#bonus points for drinking when he says ‘y’know’ if you really want to get your stomach pumped

[franklyimissparis]

fun drinking game: watch paul mccartney interview compilations and drink every time he mentions john unprovoked and slightly off-topic

[luluia]

Love You

Summary-Zoro had a bit too many drinks and now you have to take care of him

Warnings-none

A/n-This is my first story so let me know how I did 😭🙏

It was another day on the Straw Hat’s ship as you talked to Robin about this book you both read but little did you know a certain moss head had been eyeing you

“Let’s have a banquet!” Luffy said as Usopp and Chopper smiled cheering for a banquet along with him

“For what? Morons” Nami said as they shrugged

“Don’t be so harsh Nami, I think it could be fun!” You smiled at the idea since it might be fun

“Banquets means more sake so I don’t care either way” Zoro said having a cup of sake you quickly glanced at him before looking away

Truth be told you had feelings for the swordsman as Sanji went immediately to prepare the food for the banquet after you and Robin said that you guys should have one

“Hey Robin more about that book I think that he chose the wrong girl. I mean the other girl was so sweet and they had so much chemistry!” You said

“I see your point but if you really think about it the author chose a more rich girl x poor boy approach. I mean did you even read Chapters 20-23.” Robin said she had a point “Keep it down drama Queen. I’m trying to sleep here” The green haired male said

“Y’know I never knew Cosmo had a long lost retarded brother until I met you!” I smiled as Robin giggled he shut up until the cook called for him “MOSS HEADDDD!!! HOW DARE YOU CALL Y/N-SWANNN A DRAMA QUEEN” He said as they started fighting

“Moss Head’s a cute nickname” You said to Robin as the two of you watched them fight Nami soon joined as you three began to talk

~During The Banquet~

“I’m gonna be King of the-“ Luffy said raising his glass before passing out everyone seemed too except you, Nami, Robin, and Zoro but he was restless

“I’m going to put everyone to bed” I said standing up as Nami and Robin both decided to help they were both a little intoxicated but not Zoro intoxicated as you three both carried the past out members of your crew only Zoro was left so Nami and Robin decided to head to bed smirking and giggling

“Alright. Let’s get you back to bed-“ You said stretching a bit before he interrupted you by pulling you down and onto his lap your cheeks turning a light pink

“Not yet.” He said holding you close you thought this was probably because he was intoxicated but still you felt a little spark within you light up with joy. “Y/n.” He said as you hummed in response “I love you” He squeezed you tired your face was like a tomato’s

“Shut up Moss Head!” You said turning your head away as he smiled burying his head in the crevice of your neck “Your Moss head” He smiled and you felt it

“Z-Zoro you’re drunk right now.” You replied he tightened his grip around your waist “Who cares? I love you the same drunk or not” He kissed your neck softly “And plus I like when you say my name” He running a hand through your hair “I want us to be more than friends” He said

“You’ll snap out of it by morning” You said he didn’t like that response “Don’t do that. Discount my feelings” He squeezed you tighter if that was even possibly “I’m barely friend material. Let alone more than friend material. If I’m being honest you deserve someone way better!” You replied hoping that he would finally go to bed and sober up

“Mmh but there’s no one better than you” He said before you realized he’s starting to dose off you ruffled his hair a bit as he drank some water from earlier to sober up a bit

“Do you not… like me back” He said before falling asleep. He was too heavy to carry back on your own and his grip on you left you no choice but to stay there the rest of the night

“I do love you… stupid moss head” You said kissing the side of his head

BONUS

The Swordsman woke up before you did as he blushed at the sight before slowly taking you off of him as set you down on the floor he was still pretty hungover from last night

“I… love you too Zoro” She mumbled in her sleep he wondered what she meant by too but he was happy she loved him as she started waking up

“It’s so bright” You said using your arm to cover your eyes “Morning. Did the princess sleep well or does she prefer her soft mattress” He said to you as the events from last night came to view

“Oh put a sock in it! I only did it because you were drunk and being clingy” You crossed your arms as he looked over at you smiling before leaning over you “So does that mean you’ll stay with me if I become intoxicated?” He hummed “That’s not what I- You were just vulnerable and I didn’t want anyone to take advantage is all. Plus you’re the one who said you love me”

“Because it’s true” He smiled teasing you.

[signanothername]

Burns’ family and alcohol headcanons:

Charlie: He only drinks every super blue moon. He’s not alcohols biggest fan, probably doesn’t even buy it himself, but he won’t pass a cold one on the very, very rare occasion when he’s on vacation.

Kade: Kades a character that screams that he goes to the bar to play pool with a pint. Not often though, he’s very athletic so I personally don’t see him making drinking a habit. Maybe twice a month or on special occasions. Bonus points if he’s only slightly harder to get drunk than HW.

Dani: okokok, I know that it would fit Dani’s character if she could drink the rest of her family under the table, But the irony of her being a lightweight while Blades has insane alcohol tolerance is just too good. She’d be such a Blurr about it too.

Blades: Dani, I say this as your partner that loves you, you don’t want me as a “drinking buddy”

Dani: What? You can dance, but you can’t handle a hard drink?

Blades: Know what? Fine! You asked for it

-he had to fly a very drunk Dani home, she threw up inside him, Blades will never let her live it down-

Graham: He is an engineer. He can drink. Wouldn’t be surprised if he spiked his coffee on occasion. To his credit, he’s still a responsible drinker, and when he does go a bit overboard Boulder is always there to keep an eye on him. Definitely has perfected the hangover smoothie recipe

Bonus:

Woody: There’s nothing in this planet or any other that can get this man drunk. Probably where Graham got his tolerance from. Definitely makes his own beer, bonus points if it’s really good and the only food the kids take from him willingly

OH MY GOD YESSS

Charlie is literally a single dad of 4 biological kids and 6 Cybertronian kids, he absolutely can’t afford not to be sober wheeze, tho I agree, he doesn’t strike me as someone who drinks a lot, he absolutely prefers drinking when on vacation

And I wholeheartedly agree with your headcanon for Kade, just like his dad he doesn’t strike me as the type to drink a lot and his athletic nature definitely contributes to that, and omg imagine HW and Kade being drunk around each other, disaster strikes

AND OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR DANI HEADCANON, I honestly thought of her as a regular drinker but now I’m reconsidering cause this is genuinely hilarious, she’d probably be knocked out from one or two drinks while the monster that is blades is probably on his 15’th one and is still barely affected

Ok but like this is SO Graham wheeze, y’know the really tired nerd gotta be a drinker, AND AW I LOVE THE IDEA OF BOULDER KEEPING AN EYE ON HIM VXVXVXGXG, also hell yeah hungover recipe for the win

And no like you’re so real for that Woody headcanon, and it’s literally so true this man tried so many different drinks and recipes aint no drink gonna actually affect him wheeze and yessss love that bonding point between him and the kids

Man thank you I love all these shzbbzbz

[finelinevogue]

could you do some angsty smut please??

oh hell yeah we can. this is going to be 70srockstar!harry with roadie!y/n eekkkk! okay have fun;

Being the girlfriend of the most famous, golden boy rockstar was the craziest rollercoaster you’d ever ride.

For the past 6 months you’ve been touring with the one and only Harry Styles, living your life between helping on tour, drinking endless amounts of wine and smoking a hell of a lot of weed. The job had come past you at the perfect moment. Your dad happened to be best friends with the tour manager, Jeff Azoff, who’d spoken of their being a job opening for a roadie. You were employed to help set up the musical equipment and test out the instruments before the act went on at night, falling in love for the man you roadied for was just an add on. A beautiful bonus.

It was a lot more pressure being Harry’s girlfriend than people thought though. There was so much pressure to act a certain way and present yourself another way. Harry was so idolised and craved by millions and it put pressure on you to be a certain person for him. You loved him so much and you were so scared that he might one day realise that there was so much better than you - at least in your eyes. Someone extroverted. Someone musically talented. Someone who wasn’t a virgin.

Harry had never pressured you into anything sexual unless you were ready. Of course he was notorious for being an above star rating, when it came fo sex - thanks to all the articles published by the many men and women, sometimes both together, he had slept with. The sex reputation went hand-in-hand with his rock-n-roll aesthetic, so that part of him would never change. You’d only been with Harry for 4 of those 6 months, managing to fall for him very quickly, so you wondered just how he was coping without having had sex for that long. He usually had a different person each night to take backstage after his concert to play with how he wanted, hence how he built his reputation, but since you there had been no one.

Sex was such a big thing for Harry though, so you couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Currently, you were sat on his bed on the tour bus reading an article that had been published about your boyfriend last week. Your heart strings tugged as you read one section of the interview.

Interviewer: The new album, tell me about it.

Harry: It’s coming on slowly yeah. Just want this one to be perfect so, taking my time.

Interviewer: What would you say your biggest inspiration is for writing?

Harry: Changed on every project, to be honest man. Sometimes it’s about past relationships. Sometimes it’s about issues i’m going through. A lot of the time it’s about sex!

Interviewer: Yeah, dude, I have noticed that like every other song is about sex. Is that something you’re quite open about?

Harry: I think sex can be either something so beautiful or so passionate. Don’t believe in sad sex! But, um, yeah i’m always really honest lyrically when it comes to the songs about sex and I hope others see it as that too.

Interviewer: No it definitely does! Thanks Harry for your time and, um, keep on having sex so that third album breaks even more records!

Harry: Will do man!

It was easy to understand why you were upset. Harry’s biggest inspiration wasn’t possible for this album, because you were too nervous to let him have you. All of you. You felt a burden, as if you were holding him back from living his life and creating something so amazing. His past two albums had been such hits for songs such as ‘She’ and ‘Only Angel’, which were inspired by the intimate times with past lovers. There would only be sad songs if he wrote an album without any spice.

That’s why as soon as Harry came back on the bus, dressed in shorts and a shirt that was unbuttoned to see his toned chest, you jumped him and kissed him like your life depended on him. He was taken back by surprise, but welcomed your lips nevertheless.

Pulling back he mumbled some words against your lips, “Well this is a nice welcome back gift.” He chuckled at the eagerness of your lips and let his hands roam over your body - from your neck to your waist and over your ass. This man knew what he was doing.

“Harry?” You whispered, stopping your kiss and looking at his beautiful swollen red lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“Yeah baby?” He kept himself close to you and you could feel the stiffie that he’d developed pressing against your front.

“Can we… I’m.. If you…”

“What baby? Can tell me anything, y’know that.”

“Wanna have sex with you.” You told him the most simple virgin way ever, your face heating up when you saw him smirking down at you. You’d screwed yourself over here and were getting all shy and embarrassed about it.

“Hey, no. Don’t hide from me,” He drew your face back to his and kept his eyes on yours to provide you some familiar comfort, “you sure?”

“Mhm, yes.” You nodded affirmatively.

“It might hurt a little, okay? First time means that your cute little pussy is going to be really tight. Don’t even know whether you’ll be able to take me.” He taunted you, cupping his hands to your cheeks and brushing his thumbs carefully over your skin to ease your tension.

“I w-will.” You moused out, wanting to be this person for him.

“‘Course you can. You’re my best girl and I know you’ll fit perfectly for me, yeah?” He rhetorically asked pushing you back to the bed and letting you flop there. You watched him as he discarded his clothes, following his lead, until you were both naked in front of each other. You’d been this far before, but this time it felt different. It felt more lustful and exposed and nerve-wracking.

Harry bent down and started to kiss you from your belly upwards, leaving kisses everywhere until he reached your jaw where he bit more than he kisses. He loved seeing his marks being left behind on your skin, proving to everyone that you were his and his alone. His hands found comfort ins kneading and squeezing your breasts like dough, loving the way they were so soft and yet so hard beneath his warm hands. As he found your lips and divulged in your sweet tastes, you slunk your hand down and grabbed ahold of his cock, pumping him a few times to get him primed. You felt the trickles of pre-cum drip from his tip and it only excited you even more.

Taking your lead, Harry pushed one of his hands in between your bodies and started playing with your wet cunt, paying extra attention to your needy clit. He knew you loved it when his fingers got rough, so that’s exactly how he played. His tongue was battling against yours, whilst you both stimulated pleasure to one another. The wet and beautiful sounds filled the room, heightening your arousal - Harry could feel it too, his fingers becoming wetter with every circle and pump of his fingers.

“You ready, baby?” He asked carefully, plucking his lips away from yours with a wet sounding smack. You already looked fucked out and he had barely done anything to you yet.

“Y-yes.” You stumbled, so excited yet so nervous. You were finally going to give Harry what he had been missing for so long and you were also going to let yourself go, and divulge in something new and potentially life-changing.

He leant back and rubbed his own cock for a few strokes, before lining the tip of it with your opening. He teased your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation. He smiled down at you and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ without any sounds leaving his lips, before you did the same. The head of his cock started to push in, but you didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Shit fuck, y’so tight baby. Need you to relax for me, okay?” He asked, pulling away so he could watch your body relax. You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe, reminding yourself that the best way to relax is not to think about the problem itself but oh how you’d feel when the problem’s fixed. You smiled and once Harry could see your shoulders un-tense, he, once again, pushed his cock into your opening. He hissed at the contact, obviously finding it so pleasurable even if it was only minimal contact, but you, you felt so much pain and soreness from absolutely nothing.

You couldn’t do this.

“It should just…” Harry tried a different angle, but your smile had disappeared and your whole range of emotions had resumed to flat and disappointed in yourself. “Maybe if I just..” Harry tried to hold your legs a little wider and guide his cock more firmly into your opening, but each time he couldn’t push past a certain point without your body rejecting him or your facial expressions telling him he should stop.

“St-stop Harry please.” You cried, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you let the tears flow freely. “Please stop.”

“O-okay. Just gonna…” And he slid out as much as he’d managed to get in, which was probably less than an inch. It hurt when he pulled away and your cunt felt like it was on fire. It stung and it didn’t feel right. You felt like a failure and an embarrassment.

You cried into your arms, letting harsh sobs take over your body. You chest felt tight and your eyes stung worse than your cunt did. God, you couldn’t even do one thing for him. You were the reason why he was having a hard time writing at the moment. You were the reason people would be disappointed to hear no sex inspired songs on the album. He might even have to use past experiences as inspiration, which made your heart curl with jealousy. You didn’t feel like you were enough for him, like you would ever be enough for him.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” You sat up from the bed, not wanting to look at him and his disappointed expression as he stay knelt on the bed - cock looking painfully hard still. You scrambled for your t-shirt and your joggers and then walked out of the room, across the bus’ narrow corridor, and into the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in then mirror and were disappointed at what, or who, you saw. Looking back at you was the person who couldn’t even have sex. You couldn’t give Harry what he deserved. You were a failure and it was stamped all over your body. You cried as you looked at yourself, until you couldn’t and you just slid down the wall and onto the floor. You wished for the Earth to just swallow you whole. You couldn’t stand being here when you were clearly broken and useless.

Harry would surely leave you for this. Why would he want to stay with someone who couldn’t even get their boyfriends dick in their pussy? Couldn’t give each other that pleasure? Harry had so many people in the past and surely with you gone he’d have so many people in the future. It would be selfish of you to stay. Harry had needs you completely appreciated that, but it would be just so difficult to let him go when he means so much to you.

There was a quiet knock at the door, which broke you from your cries and self-deprecating. “Y/N? Baby honey? Can I come in, please?”

“S-sorry. Yes of c-course.” You stood up quickly, thinking that he was wanting to be let in to go to the toilet or to have a cold shower go get rid of the hard-on that you’d put there. Too bad you couldn’t have taken it away.

You unlocked the door and shuffled past him, only for him to stop you. He shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you both infinitely pressed together in the pathway on the bus. He had you pressed you up against the side of the wall and kept his arms at either side of you.

“Sweets—”

“Harry, please don’t say anything. I-I know what you’re thinking and—”

“Yeah? And what am I thinking?” He asked, not moving away from you. You held your cries the best you could and took a deep breathe to continue.

“I’m a disappointment. I-I i’m not good enough. I’m broken.” You choked out, knocking your head back against the wall from frustration.

“Stop it.” Harry ordered firmly, gripping your cheeks in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The look in his eyes was so hard to read, but he looked desperate and worried and hurt. You hated to think that you were the cause of any of those emotions. “Just stop.” Harry’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears too and you brought your own hand up to catch a few of them before they could fall.

“Don’t cry, please.” You begged, keeping your hand pressed to his cheek which he absolutely adored. He loved the feeling of your skin against his. He never wanted to not have it.

“Then don’t say things that hurt me, okay? Hearing you say those things about yourself absolutely breaks m’heart flower. Just because you were a bit too tight to take me today does not mean that you’re a disappointment or you’re a failure or that you’re not good enough. It hurts to think that you’d ever think I would think that, because - fuck -,” Harry pressed his forehead tight against yours and fanned his lips lips over yours. His closeness was everything. “I love you so much it scares me. My feelings for you are so strong and so real. I want your forever and something as trivial as sex is never going to make me want otherwise. Do you get that?”

“B-but the album?” You asked.

“What about the album?”

“I-in the recent magazine interview you said that sex is your biggest i-inspiration. I can’t be that for you.”

“Is that what this is all about? Because you think that my album isn’t coming together because i’m not having sex? Did you miss the part where I said I wanted this one to be perfect and I was taking m’time with it?”

“No.”

“Well I did say that, because it’s for you baby. The whole thing is going to be for you. Every melody. Every lyric. Every song. Just and all for you.” Both of you were silently crying now, absorbed in each others love and adoration for one another.

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. This album isn’t really for the charts or the awards. It’s for you, m’heart. I love you for a lot more than your body and its’ pleasures.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, taking all his words in and realising how irrationally you’d acted out afterwards.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For even thinking that you’d be so shallow and cold-hearted.”

“You didn’t think that though, baby. I know you and so I know you didn’t. Your thoughts were based around your own insecurities, not to do with your small-thinking over me.” He explained to you, making you nod and kick your lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well then we don’t deserve each other.”

“But i’ll keep you forever if you’d let me.”

“Looks like we’re together forever then, baby honey.”

[voiceless-terror]

Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair. 

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves.  It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction. 

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.” 

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels. 

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine. 

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious. 

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat. 

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence. 

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk. 

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction. 

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then. 

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

[obey-mc]

Could you do the undatables (minus Luke) reaction to having MC drunk dial them?

Bonus points if MC accidentally confesses their love, or says something equally embarrassing that they’re going to regret the next day.

oooh drunk calls are fun!! thank you for requesting dearie, i hope i did it justice!!

»————-　★　————-«

Undatables (Minus Luke) Reactions to MC drunk calling them!

warnings: MC being drunk obviously,

┍━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━┑

𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖑𝖔:

“Oh my, what a surprise this is!”

He’s happy to talk to them, but also mostly amused.

Humans are so weak to their own alcohol, but not to demonic drinks, and it’s something that never fails to make him chuckle.

If MC confesses their love, he’ll just laugh and play along. Whether they remember it or not, it’s endearing to him.

If MC takes a more embarrassing route, however...

Any sort of comment on his figure (i.e: chest, butt, arms) that implies MC holds attraction for him will make him flustered, but phone calls are easier to deal with than real people so he can just fake his way through

But if MC makes a flirty comment about his demonic form?

He just.

Accidentally hangs up?

He’s blushing so hard though holy shit.

MC’s gonna get chewed out by Lucifer for calling when they’re drunk, but Diavolo might perhaps be tempted to step in and spare them.

You know.

As a courtesy.

𝕭𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖘:

He was absolutely expecting this, don’t let him fool you.

He just answers calmly as if it were a normal phone call.

“Hello, MC, how are you?”

*unintelligible drunk garbage*

“I see, I see. Do you need assistance?”

He wanted to make sure MC was safe when he knew they were going out that night, so he just skimmed the futures a bit and this was a likely one.

While he didn’t look far enough to see MC confessing their love, statistically that was also very likely to happen, so he didn’t worry about it.

“I appreciate your affection.” Headass 💀

Odds are that flirting won’t affect him that much. He’s seen so many futures where MC chooses him that he knows how to respond.

MC really needs to catch him off guard.

“If you have two tail-tips meeting in one tail in your demon form, did your dad fuck an Espeon or something?”

Yeah like that.

He’s so shocked that he just freezes for a moment, before laughing. He wasn’t expecting that future out of all of them.

He won’t use it as blackmail, but he will bring it up from time to time to embarrass MC.

𝕾𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖔𝖓:

Poor angel man is Concerned

Especially with how out of it MC seems to be.

They keep trying to profess their love for him???

“MC! Are you alright? Do you need some help?”

Listen the confession on it’s own is bad enough to make him stutter.

You partner that with some compliments? He is g o n e.

Just don’t let MC embarrass themselves by hanging up with a “Love you, Chicken Wing.”

(He’s very sweet about the whole thing, though, and will not hesitate to come find MC if they ask for him or his help.)

𝕾𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖒𝖔𝖓:

Oh this is So Much Blackmail.

He will use this, and he will use it often.

RIP MC

First of all it’s very bold of you to assume that he wasn’t out with them when they got drunk.

Humans gotta stick together, y’know?

Secondly, he was literally right next to MC when they called.

As he was watching them talk about how much they loved him, he just.

Stood there.

Right next to them.

“Oh, you love me? Should I be flattered by that?”

Little asshole is what he is.

After the love confessions stopped, MC had gone on to mimicking his magic over the phone, complete with sound effects.

They both got kicked out because he was laughing so hard.

MC finally figures out where he is, and he takes them home, but not without a good laugh and some memories for their trouble.

┕━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━┙

[taegyuun]

random habits txt have with you

genre: fluff

pairing: txt x reader

word count: 530

♡ — CHOI YEONJUN

makes you your favourite drink

it can be anything

literally as complex as you’d like it to be

he’d learn it

he thinks buying it would be “not romantic and him being a bad boyfriend” his words not mine

he finds it really cute ? nothing like crazy it’s just a drink but it still means a lot to the both of you

especially to you bc hes managed to learn your favourite drink off by heart and if you ever go to a cafe or smth he will always know what to order for you

rest of the boys under the cut !

♡ — CHOI SOOBIN

baby would play with your fingers

he finds your hands super pretty and cute

no matter the size or if any fingers are missing or even if the hand is missing- ok now i’m just missing the point but you get what i mean

he finds it comforting

he likes holding hands so playing with your fingers is simply a bonus

especially when you guys are cuddling and he’ll be playing with them and tugging on some fingers or intertwining and un twining is that even a word💀

he will literally do this anyway especially bc it isn’t *that* noticeable so he can do it discreetly too

♡ — CHOI BEOMGYU

tugs at your hair

LMFAO HES SO ANNOYING AND HE LIKES TEASING PEOPLE so this is a perfect way to do it

if your hair is too short or don’t have any he will tug on your clothes

he likes walking past you when you’re doing smth and tugging on a small piece of it gently and then pretending like nothing happened

hell deadass do that whistle thing where he puts his hands behind his back look away and whistle LMAOOO

or he’ll be like “what?? me ?? nooooo never !! i told you this place was haunted”

hes annoying but i love him and you should too >:(

will love it if you do it back he finds the competition fun <3

♡ — KANG TAEHYUN

basically always lets you choose what you want to do

food? you choose. movie to watch? your choice

literally no matter what it is hes letting you choose

except if you’re indecisive then you’re gonna have to compromise somehow

another habit i think he’d have is brushing your hair or doing your hair for you

ofc is you don’t have any then he’ll choose little accessories for you to wear that day !

pls omg he looooves seeing you wear small rings or earrings that he chose

even if they don’t exactly fit with the outfit hes happy bc you’re wearing it !! and it stands out just a little bit

♡ — HUENING KAI

just like with the rest of the members hed pay your tummy

he loves it what can i say

once he gets comfortable with a person and gets close to them y’know damn well that’s what hes gojng to be doing

whenever hes happy or you did smth you’re proud of youll feel his hands wrap around you and pay your tummy

if you’re not comfortable with that he’ll give you head pats!

he finds them just as cute <3

[bosspigeon]

not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

[suzuki-violin-school]

Eijiro Kirishima Drabble

Late Night Thirst

In which the reader has a quirk inspired by Aphrodite. Everyone who looks at them sees their own perception of beauty, they have the ability to make people fall in or out of love with them

Masterlist

Content: enby!reader, soft kirishima, self-consciousness, little bit of self-loathing (quirk-loathing? idk)

Kirishima opened the fridge to grab a glass of something- Juice, milk, water, he really didn’t care at this point. He woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Y/n’s silhouette outside, sitting on the stairs up to the dorm. He abandoned his drink escapade to go check on them.

“Hey.”

“Kiri? What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Kirishima said, walking over to Y/n and sitting down next to them. “Can’t sleep?”

“I... Haven’t even gone inside since the end of the school day. Haven’t even tried to sleep,” Y/n said, chuckling. Kirishima could hear the emptiness in their laugh.

“Something’s wrong. Do you need to talk about it, or do you just want some emotional support?”

Y/n smiled.

“Well, you’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?”

“Well, I care about you!” Kirishima defended. “Of course I’m gonna wonder what’s up when you’re upset!”

He leaned over, resting his head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Ei...”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Y/n sighed, leaning their own head on Kirishima’s.

“Maybe... I’m just so fed up with my quirk,” Y/n said quietly. “I hate it. I hate this. I hate everything about it!”

“Alright, and what specifically is bugging you about it tonight?” Kirishima asked softly, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s waist and pulling them closer. It was cold out. They’d really been out here all night? Alone?

Y/n turned and buried their face in Kirishima’s chest as their eyes started watering.

“I can never be loved! Not properly! Not really! I’ll never know what I look like to someone, and I’ll never know if it’s my fault if someone ever does love me! No one’ll ever be in love with me...”

Kirishima just wrapped his arms around Y/n again, holding them closer. Carefully, he pulled them into his lap, resting his chin on their shoulder as they kept their face buried in his shirt.

“You’re scared your quirk won’t let anyone love you?”

Y/n nodded, crying almost silently against Kirishima.

“...I love someone,” Y/n said quietly. “I can’t handle it. We’re friends, but what if he only likes me because I’m pretty, just like everyone else does?”

“Wait, what?” Kirishima said, confused, pulling away from Y/n to look them in the eyes. He wiped a few tears away. “You think people only like you because you’re pretty?”

Y/n shrugged halfheartedly.

“Why else would they? I’m not that interesting,” they said. “If someone’s not interesting but they still have friends, it’s only ever because they’re attractive. Or rich, I guess, but I’m not, so...”

“Well, I think you’re super interesting!” Kirishima said, smiling. “You’re one of my best friends, and it’s super not cool to be that shallow, y’know? It’s totally not manly to focus on looks that much! Even if I was blind, if I couldn’t see you at all, I’d still wanna be your friend.”

“...Thanks, Eijiro.”

Kirishima’s face flushed red, he’d never get used to Y/n calling him that.

“Y-Yeah! No problem. ...So, who’s this person you love?”

“O-Oh, um... Well, he’s really nice, and super supportive,” Y/n said quietly, looking up towards the moon. “Sometimes I wish I knew what I look like to him.”

“...Are you sure? I mean, if I had your quirk, I’d never want to know,” Kirishima said, grimacing. “I mean, what if the person they saw was totally different from how you actually look? I think I’d hate knowing that the person I loved didn’t see me as I am.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you get used to it,” Y/n said, sighing. “No one’ll ever see me like that. No one’s concept of pure beauty is someone who looks like me.”

“Don’t say that! I’m sure there’s someone out there who thinks you’re beautiful,” Kirishima said. “The real you, I mean. ...What does the real you look like?”

“You seriously want to know that?” Y/n asked. Kirishima nodded. “...What if I tell you but you see someone completely different? ...What if you stop seeing me the same way, and you don’t-”

“You don't have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Kirishima said quickly. “I was just curious. I mean, I know Bakugo sees you as some pretty blonde girl, and Kaminari sees some slit-eyebrow, nose-piercing dude, and Mineta said you’re-”

“...Mineta said I’m what?”

“He just called you a ‘big boobie girl’,” Kirishima finished quietly. “So, everyone really does see you differently, which made me want to know, since I see you as a s/t, h/c-haired, cute-nosed beauty.”

Kirishima reached out and booped Y/n’s nose, then registered the shocked expression on their face.

“That’s... Me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My skin, my hair... Maybe my nose,” Y/n finished, reaching out to boop Kirishima’s nose right back. “...So, you think I’m the definition of beauty.”

Man up, Kirishima. You can say it.

“Well, I’m super into you,” Kirishima said, trying his best to hide his nervousness. “And like I said, even if I couldn’t see how beautiful you are, I’d still really like you. I think you’re great! Being gorgeous is just a bonus.”

“...Eijiro, you like me?”

Again, Kirishima’s face reached a level of red that could rival his hair.

“Uh, y-yeah. Yes, I do.”

Y/n adjusted the way they were sitting in Kirishima’s lap and buried their face in his chest again, wrapping their arms around him.

“It take a lotta guts to confess to the person you like,” they said. “That was pretty manly of you, Kirishima.”

Y/n laughed, but Kirishima could tell there was feeling in it this time.

“Thanks, I guess,” he said, holding Y/n close to himself.

“Y’know, I’m really glad you can see the real me,” Y/n said, slightly muffled by Kirishima’s shirt. “You said it would suck if the person I love didn’t see the real me, but you do!”

“...Wait-”

[madswritingvoid]

Say You’re Sorry

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Words: 3k (oops haha)

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, swearing, slight choking, first time writing smut should probably be a warning itself, sexism, Max Phillips is a warning probably.

You knew it was a bad idea. Well, actually, no you didn’t. Not fully. The voice in your head was just screaming at you to stop - there were other ways to get his attention. Other ways to make Max feel bad for what he did during the Synersavers presentation that didn’t require you stooping this low. Fuck it, you figured, if he can go around and do whatever he wants to get his way then so can I.

Fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror one last time, you went back into the office looking for the desk you usually avoid like the plague. Max Phillips, fuck you.

Earlier That Day

“So you see, Mr. Jacobson, our third quarter projections have us coming in on top by two million dollars and the fourth quarter is looking even better. I mean really champ, if these numbers were anymore amazing they’d be as hot as your associate there in that fetching skirt,” Max winks at the woman taking meeting minutes for your potential new client, causing her skin to blotch, “fucking unreal. Pardon my French,” he finishes, earning a big laugh from the CEO of Synersavers, the new bullshit placebo pill that was supposed to alter the brain’s natural neural pathways to promote synergy. You weren’t sure what dreams synergy was helping pathetic humans to achieve, but it meant a bonus if they signed on so you made sure that PowerPoint presentation was the best slides of your career.

You scoff, worried that if you roll your eyes they’ll get stuck. You know Max Phillips was quite the charmer, you knew better than anyone in the office. This past year saw him go from being just your hot vampire boss you had a crush on, to your hot vampire boss that was now your boyfriend. 

While you never made an official statement to your coworkers, you quietly signed the papers Amanda in HR needed signed and let the sound of you screaming Max’s name in his office while he was balls deep inside you let the rest of your coworkers know of your relationship. Overall, Max was a great boyfriend. Better than expected even - attentive, caring, protective to a fault, all while still being that loveable (?) piece of shit frat boy extraordinaire he had been at the beginning. 

You knew he still had to lay on the charm to close sales from time to time, never actually violating your relationship in any way, but after the fight you had this morning you didn’t think flirting with the only person in the meeting who did not actually control whether or not this partnership was going to happen right in front of you was the best move.

“Mr. Phillips,” Jacobson says, once again only acknowledging Max and completely ignoring you as he had been for the entire presentation, “you got quite the silver tongue. But I like that about ya, I think you get what our product is all about and I wanna make this partnership work. I’m surprised your presentation is as good as it was, because if you’ll pardon my French, if my secretary looked as delicious as yours does I’d be too busy fucking her left, right, and centre to even think about the fourth quarter anything!” He laughs and claps Max on the shoulder and you tense up, sure that Max is going to say something. Not even because he’s your boyfriend, but because he landed the sale and doesn’t have to be as sleazy as this dickhead is. 

“See that’s where you’re wrong Jacobson, it’s almost like I’m working double to avoid her. Just doesn’t get the mojo flowing, y’know? Maybe we should switch, what do you think sweetheart?” He looks over at the still flustered secretary, “Come on and work for me and we’ll work on some new ways of making synergy happen,” he wags his eyebrows and you’re surprised this poor woman hasn’t slid right off her seat. You’re stunned. Even as Mr. Jacobson laughs and brings a laughing Max into some sort of capitalist bro hug, you can’t bring yourself to move. It isn’t until you hear the squeak of the wheels from the chair Mr. Jacobson’s secretary was sitting against the shitty meeting room carpet that you snap back to the present and shut everything down. By the time you finish everyone is long gone, leaving you to stew in your rage.

A hesitant knock on the meeting room door makes you jump as you’re met with a sheepish looking Evan in the doorway. You were never a big fan of Evan when you started, kind of thought he was a wimp but he was nice enough. After getting with Max and learning their shared history, you couldn’t stand Evan, but were able to be far more professional when needed until Max.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here after Max and the Synersavers people left,” he shrugged. “What the fuck do you mean Max left with them?” You asked through clenched teeth. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Evan took a deep breath before telling you, “yeah, um. They left for a late liquid lunch from what it sounded like, Max said you would be too busy learning how to make a paper clip bracelet to join them… Sorry, he’s such an asshole. You don’t deserve that, especially not from that bastard,” He couldn’t meet your eyes. Even though he still tried to tell you to leave Max every single day, you appreciate him being there this time.

There were many things you could be mean to Evan for, but deep down you knew he didn’t deserve the wrath of your anger this time. 

Later That Afternoon

After taking the elevator up to the office to mentally cleanse his mind from that mindless lunch with that absolute creep Jacobson, Max was trying to come up with the best apology for you. He knew he didn’t have to be so forward flirting with that secretary, what the fuck was her name anyways, in order to win the sexist CEO over. But he was feeling petty after your fight while you were getting ready for work he figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind you that many other women find him quite the catch.

“You’re lying! You have to be lying!! There’s no way that happened oh my god,” Max stops dead in his tracks as he hears your giggles from inside the office. “It is! I totally saw Tim practising the dance moves the day after that Kelly Clarkson concert in the men’s washroom. I didn’t even know she had dancers, but from what I saw it really must have been a hell of a show,” Evan says as you throw your head back and let out another over-the-top cackle. You’re sitting on top of Evan’s desk, resting your hand on his shoulder as he sits in between your open legs, clearly enjoying the attention. 

You’re hamming it up, he knows that, he knows that’s not what your real laugh sounds like - the laugh he gets to hear when he really does something that you like. He knows you don’t mean it but he’s immediately flooded with anger and guilt. He obviously didn’t realize how much the day had taken a toll on you and now you must be really mad if you’re going to Evan to get back at him.

“Oh my god Evan that’s too funny,” you giggle and place a hand on his shoulder, “you just made my day! I won’t tell Tim anything, it’ll be our little secret,” you wink. Evan’s blush deepens at the touch, maybe you weren’t so bad after all and if Max (and Amanda at this point) didn’t look out he would maybe ask you out for a drink sometime soon. Bring you back to the land of the living.

Deciding he’s absolutely had enough, Max quietly comes up behind Evan and slaps both hands on his shoulders after seeing you move yours back to your lap, causing him to freeze and let out a little squeak. “Slugger, I’m sure whatever’s going on here is just too funny, but didn’t I ask you to finish up that presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with NuevaWeight?” he pouts, “I really thought you were taking this job seriously buddy, but maybe I should just get Andrew to take over…”

“N-no Max, sorry. Yeah the presentation is almost done, it’ll be ready before the end of the day,” Evan stammers. Max finally meets your eyes and smirks, “and you can meet me in my office. Apparently you think you can stop doing your job and distracting my employees.”

You can’t even speak, your jaw set and eyes burning from the absolute rage you feel right now. Yeah you’ll meet him in his office, but it won’t be so he can lecture you about whatever bullshit he’s already thought of. “Of course Mr. Phillips, meet you there,” you manage to snap back, calmly making your way to his office. Anyone walking by you immediately gets out of your way, your anger coming off in waves making your undead coworkers shiver.

Clapping Evan on the shoulder one more time, Max saunters over to his office, ready to make you beg for his forgiveness after that little stunt. As soon as he opens his office door he realizes that won’t be happening.

You’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk in a way that makes your skirt ride up and expose more thigh than what HR might deem office appropriate. “Ah, Mr. Phillips, so nice of you to make it,” you smirk. “Sweets, I think there must be some sort of misunderstandi-'' you cut him off with a dark look and stand up. Walking up to him you close his office door and push him against it, “No champ,” you sneer, “I think you’re confused here. I’m not the one who decided to be a very, very bad boy by flirting with someone else and insulting me in front of new clients.” Chest to chest, your hand slithers up to grab Max’s throat. Even though he is a vampire who could toss you around like a ragdoll, you know he’s letting you be in control. He likes it.

“While you were out entertaining I’ve been thinking about what I could do to make you really sorry, baby. You were already on thin ice from this morning, but now you’re drowning,” you squeeze a little harder on his throat making his eyes roll back. “What are you gonna do? I’m so sorry,” he whispers. You take a moment, just looking into those eyes you love so much, before answering.

“Maybe I’ll sit on your cock. Let you fill my pussy up but not let you cum, because only good boys get to come, you know that Maxie. Maybe I’ll just use you like my own walking, talking dildo. If I’m so replaceable you won’t mind not getting to fill me up? Right?” You smirk again as he whines, his hands clenching because all he wants to do is make you feel good now. 

“You wanna run that mouth, Phillips? You wanna make everything think you’re so fucking special when I know you’re really just a scared little vamp, huh?” You say with a pout. Grabbing his hair, you force his head up so you can look right into his eyes that are now almost completely black from lust. “Come on big shot, if you wanna be a big boy then you gotta show me that mouth can do something other than just spew bullshit, slugger.” 

That’s all the permission he needs. He hoists you up in his arms and thanks to vampire speed you’re now sat on his leather couch, skirt up around your waist, underwear ripped clean off, fully exposed to his hungry eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he pouts, “let me make you feel good. I just want you-” You’ve heard enough, pushing him down so his mouth finally reaches your core. Moaning at finally tasting you, Max wastes no time taking your clit and sucking hard, already teasing your entrance with one of his long fingers. 

“Y-Yes Max, fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum just like this,” you moan and clench around the finger inside of you, knowing you’re absolutely dripping onto the couch underneath you. He adds a second, then a third, making you arch your back until you’re almost sitting up from how good he’s fucking you with his hands. His mouth doesn’t stop, sucking and licking, spelling out his apologies against your body. Knowing you’re close, he starts focusing on that spot inside of you that drives you wild. 

“Oh! Oh, Maxie yes. Such a g-good boy,” you pant, meeting his hand thrust for thrust trying to reach your high, “make me feel so good please please please baby I’m right there, I-” you can’t finish that sentence as your vision goes white and all you can do is let out a strangled moan that sounds like his name.

Once your legs start shaking you pull both of you up, undoing his belt and pushing him onto the couch so you can straddle his waist. You wrap a hand around his neck and start nipping at the area, rocking your soaked pussy along his aching cock that was now free from the confines of his dress pants a few times before sinking down on him. A wicked grin stretches across your face as his moans get louder. He chokes when he feels you gush around him, not expecting you to come again so soon but you were still sensitive from his mouth, the hair above his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, but you wanted more still. 

Picking up the pace, you squeeze around his throat again and start taunting him, “You gonna replace me baby? Yeah? You gonna find a pussy that takes you this good? Be my guest. Go right now and find something better, or show me how goddamn sorry you are.”

Granting him permission to take over, Max flips you on your back, making sure your head is supported by one of the couch cushions. He immediately wraps your legs around his waist, angling one leg to let him sink even deep inside of you, your moans mixing together as you both revel in the feeling of him finally being inside of you. Wanting to prove himself he wastes no time pulling out just to start slamming back into you. 

You moan and clench around him, making him hiss and he doesn’t let up. Watching him disappear inside of you over and over again, he starts babbling his apologies. “N-Never baby. Could never replace you. Never gonna find a pu-pussy this fucking good. Look at you, so perfect, so so perfect taking my cock like that. I’m sorry. You’re so good. I don’t deserve it, it’s- fuck it’s so fucking good. Best pussy of all time,” he moans as you clamp down on him, your third orgasm ripping through you. 

“Yes - yes Max, that’s fucking r-right. I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have,” you moan again from being so full. You know he’s sorry so you decide to let him finish after all. Taking your hands off his shoulders, you start tangling your fingers in his hair and bring his face close to your so your lips are almost touching, “you did so good Maxie,” you coo, “you cock made me feel so fucking good I know you’re sorry now.” He shudders at your words but keeps his steady pace, trying to make you cum again, still holding back his own impending orgasm. “Thank you baby, ‘m so so sorry, I love you and I just wanna be good for you-” “shhh shhh Maxie, I know I know. You did good baby, now show me how good you are and cum inside of me.” 

That’s all he needs. 

Something between a groan and growl comes deep from within Max as he finally lets go, pushing himself as far as he can inside of you as he starts painting your walls. Coming down from his high, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you start peppering him with kisses wherever you can reach, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I’m really sorry baby,” you hear him mumble into your neck, “I love you.” He kisses along your throat and you hum, moving your head to give him more access. “I know Max, I love you too. I forgive you. But try that again and I’ll cut your dick off in front of the whole office,” you laugh.

He chuckles too, continuing to shower you with love. “As much as I want to stay right here forever baby, let’s go home and I can keep showing you how sorry I am,” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows to earn a giggle from you, “sounds good Maxie, you’re lucky I’m just sooooo forgiving.”

Untangling from each other and making yourselves as presentable as you care to be, you leave the office hand-in-hand, ready to see what the rest of the night has in store.

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] College!AU Zoom University Headcanons

For the 7 Demon Brothers + Solomon

Scenario: Headcanons about how you interact with the demon brothers online during online lectures via Zoom (an online video platform that universities have been using to teach classes) and their habits using it

Notes: gn!MC, Considering most universities (including mine) are all online AGAIN fall quarter and we’re going to be using Zoom forever……. i kinda wish i DID have online classes with the demon boys (and Solomon) 

--

Lucifer

Video off, mic off, no profile pic just the typical first and last name, so you don’t really talk to him but you do see his name pop up in the Zoom chat to ask clarification questions

Accidentally has his mic on sometimes

First time you interact with him is when you private message him “hey, I think your mic is still on” because everyone can hear his brothers arguing in the background

The mic is soon turned off and you get a response back “thanks. Sorry you had to hear all of that”

“Yeah no prob. How many brothers do you have anyways?”

“Too many.” 

Thus starts your relationship with him as zoom buddies, asking each other privately what the professor just said and some clarification questions

If you’re shy about asking stuff, he has no problems asking for you; never makes you feel dumb about your questions

first time you hear his voice during midterm season when the professor doesn’t see your messages (“you’d expect them to know how this all works by now” he messages you dryly) and he asks his question out loud before the professor can move on

(lowkey think he’s hot just from his voice) 

Then highkey finds out he’s hot when his video is accidentally on for a few seconds when he’s distracted with Asmo or Mammon in the background 

Bonus points if you tease him about it 

Shows up at office hours when the TA is late and you just talk to him, exchange emails and numbers ;) y’know for homework help

If you’re going to do group projects, he seeks you out first-- god forbid he’s stuck with someone who doesn’t do the work ONLINE

Mammon

Mic is ALWAYS accidentally on until the professor mutes him or tells him to mute himself 

“Oh, sorry prof!!! My b!!”

Private messages you on purpose to ask a clarification question because he doesn’t want to seem dumb asking it to everyone or to the professor

You wonder why he chose you but then you realize it’s because you had asked a question yourself earlier in the lecture or answered a question 

It becomes a recurring thing-- like EVERY lecture

If you’re not annoyed at him, then you might suggest that the two of you share a document for notes or tease him about just having you teach the lecture if he’s confused

“Actually, that sounds great!” he types to you before you could say jk “that’d help me a lot, thanks!!”

Smh why did you sign up for more work for yourself but oh well, he seems like a nice guy

Is also a very attractive guy, you realize, when you schedule a zoom meeting with him and actually see his face

Realizes why he keeps asking questions is because he plays card games on a split screen instead of paying attention to lecture (same tho)

Invites you to join him by private messaging you a link to join (and you do eventually when lectures gets boring)

Sometimes sends the invite link to the whole class by accident 

He admits he wouldn’t even attend lecture and would just watch the recording but you’re always there so he goes 

Which means you suppose you should keep going to lecture if anything to have him go as well 

Leviathan

Already the master of online classes tbh and has no problem with the format

Finds it kind of annoying when there’s technical difficulties, but he just quickly switches to a tab to watch anime 

Probably is just watching anime on another tab if the lecture gets boring or slow anyways

He’s always the first one to answer forum/discussion posts because he’s just very tech-savvy and good at replying to people

First interaction is probably him answering one of your questions on the discussion question and from then on after you start messaging him privately during lecture when you have a question you think he can help with

A little hesitant on helping you, but you’re also just really nice to him so he’s okay with helping you, I guess 

Give him your email? Why? So he can send you the book pdfs and previous practice tests of course, why else?? 

O-Oh, you want to add him on social media? Just to ask for homework questions right? Okay, yeah, sure! o////o 

If video is on, you see the reflection of anime in one of his mirrors and casually ask him which episode he’s on

Has never been so shook or attentive in his LIFE 

Satan

He is a godsend during every breakout room because he ACTUALLY TALKS instead of leaving you in a quiet room alone with three other strangers

You think you’re lowkey in love with him when he has no problems volunteering to present to the professor and putting his thoughts into words so eloquently

He also appreciate you talking during discussion too, and enjoys the conversations the two of you have while you’re not even sure the other blank profile pics are even there anymore 

He’s the one to suggest making a shared doc to share notes and study together-- the man is productive and efficient about this, what can I say?

Manages to convince you to go to office hours with him and meet up for studying hours and ooooh he’s hot 

He’s actually a very good study buddy, especially when he’s teaching you something you’re confused about, but also just good to study together with (when you’re not too busy staring at him) 

The only reason why you’re focused during class because he’d look disappointed at you if you weren’t-- that’s on you for caring about what he thinks, but he’s just so PUT TOGETHER how do you NOT look up to him?

Finds out that he’s actually just a mess like everyone else when his brothers come in during one of your study session and he says “excuse me,” mutes the mic and goes off screen; you can see some shadows in the back as satan shoves his brothers out of the room and manhandles them till they leave

Is kind of embarrassed he forgot to turn of video too but you just think it’s funny because you relate to the lack of privacy of online classes (and perhaps annoying siblings)

Asmodeus

How the hell does he look awake and lively at a 9am lecture class????

Is that make up??? Is he… wearing PANTS??? (you don’t remember the last time you put on actual pants)

The most functional-looking person in the entire zoom lecture, asides from the professor 

Has video on all the time-- because honestly why wouldn’t he? He actually looks good

Definitely not paying attention most of the time, and you see it on his face 

Messages you first when you actually wear something nice for once because you’re going to go to the supermarket afterwards

“Ooh, where’d you get that accessory??”

The two of you end up not paying attention AT ALL and instead just gush about each other’s outfits

Definitely is not afraid to ask for your social media so you can follow each other and ask for homework help I guess but MAINLY to talk to each other because online classes can get sooooo tedious 

Really really wants to be able to meet you in person someday when it’s safe (“we’d look so cute together!!!”) but settles for facetime or zoom meet-ups 

Really does not hesitate to make friends and make the best out of social situations despite remote format bless him 

The only time he doesn’t turn on video is after a night of drinking with his brothers (“it was mammon’s birthday” he types into the chat with you, “ugh i’m probably going to go lie down, let me know how lecture goes”)

Beelzebub

Always eating-- even if this wasn’t online, he’d also be the one to bring snacks-- his whole LUNCH to class to eat so this isn’t too surprising 

You think it’s hilarious when he actually brings his laptop or phone (whatever he’s using zoom with) to the kitchen and literally makes dinner during the lecture

Sometimes you watch his tiny video of him putting stuff into the oven than the lecture slides and you bet your entire class is doing that too 

Sometimes you ask him jokingly what he’s cooking and you’re surprised when he pauses and answers your question mid-dinner making

“Lasagna. You want some?” 

“Yeah send it over through mail bro”

You don’t actually know if he’s actually retaining any lecture information, but apparently he’s doing decent enough-- still, if you offer to share your notes, he’d be so grateful

“Where do you live?”

“Ldfjalskjd why are you going to send me food?” 

“Yeah. What’s your address? I’ll send you a box of cookies or something.” 

Basically he just does NOT care what the entire class sees him doing; he could be cooking, eating, working out-- he’s listening to the lecture out loud but he’s giving you a show (whether it’s a cooking show or a work out video depends on the time of day)

Belphegor

If the lectures are recorded, you’ll never see him, especially if the class is early in the morning LOL

If you do see him during lecture and video is on, he’s always in his pajamas or sleep clothes, a pillow in front of him 

During discussion, if video is required, he probably has a screenshot of himself awake as a profile picture so he can snooze away pretending like he’s actually there 

You definitely notice because he’s the first video to show up in your gallery and his video is like never moving HAHA

You finally message him when the TA splits you all into breakout rooms when you’re all supposed to be finding the answer or discussing something to be shared later

Kind of awkward at first because he’s like… asleep, but when he wakes up blearily, he does participate-- if only for your sake and for discussion points 

“Hey… wake me up if the TA or professor asks us any questions, will ya?” he says as he puts his head down and sleeps 

Since you and him are now officially breakout room buddies, you message him when you have a question and know that he’ll probably respond to you by the end of class because he actually knows the material despite sleeping through half of the class

Is actually very appreciative of you that you volunteer to speak on behalf of your breakout room if no one else does because that means HE doesn’t have to do it

Bonus:

Solomon

The one to make the groupchat/slack link and send it to everyone in the class so we could actually help each other in the class

Shares a link to a google folder with resources

Highkey more useful than a TA sometimes 

Super helpful, efficient, and charismatic… but suspiciously so

Like where did he get all these pdfs? Where did he get all these 100% test from previous years? And-- is that an answer key??? To what???

Video isn’t on ever, so you have no clue what he looks like… until you’re in the same discussion as him and he turns on his video for breakout rooms

He always, ALWAYS sits at the island in the kitchen and sips coffee whenever you have discussion with him 

Responds back to you almost immediately if you ask him questions during lecture (because honestly, why not-- he seems smart and has his life together) but if anyone messages him in the groupchat, surprisingly takes a while to reply… maybe he’s busy?

Anyhow you’re not gonna question it; you’re gonna pass this class and Solomon is carrying everyone to an A+

[basicjetsetter]

Part V

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Fluffy scenes, anxious moments, cliff-hanger

▹ Words: 3.3k

▹ A/N: We are reaching the eye of the storm. Happy reading!

“ ‘Kay, so there’s no way they’re gonna win this game without him turning into the Wolf, right?”

“Finish watching it, Peter.”

Peter musingly shakes his head, mouthful of his fourth slice of pizza. “There’s no way.”

You level a patient smirk at him and point to the television, wordlessly telling him to see for himself.

The screen’s brightness fills your otherwise dark living room, casting shadows along the angles of Peter’s concentrated face. His body is sloped forward, and if he didn’t possess the body control of an enhanced being, he’d fall face-first into your carpet.

Tonight’s movie selection was your choice, and you didn’t want to disappoint. So when Peter said he’d never seen Teen Wolf, you were over the moon. Usually, you’d watch every single second of the classic film, but with Peter sitting cross-legged next to you, his hip pressed against yours as your crossed leg rests on top of his, you spent the entire time covertly peeking at his fascinated expressions.

Well into the third month of your friendship, Peter’s presence in your apartment remains to be an odd sight in a good way. Out of your ordinary. His first time in your apartment came on a day you both chose to escape the sun’s sweltering heat with A/C and ice cream, and like your first conversation in Hal’s, he never made it weird.

It was effortless. Every moment with Peter was like breathing.

If anyone else suggested Friday-night movie nights, you’d have spared no time shutting them down. But your yes to Peter harbored no resistance.

“No way!” An excited smile spreads across Peter’s face as Scott steps to the baseline to take the game-winning free throw shots. “Is he seriously gonna make these?”

You seal your lips, choosing not to spoil the moment, but Peter doesn’t see. His eyes never stray from the screen, and his lips slightly part from the nail-biting suspense. As the last shot falls through the hoop, Peter’s whole jaw drops.

When the end credits roll, he slowly claps. “That was awesome. Like I’ve got some serious chills. How am I going to top that?”

“Eh, you probably won’t,” you reply with a boastful grin. Hidden joy thrums through your body from his excitement. “Might as well call a wrap on movie nights.”

Peter playfully nudges you with his elbow, then checks his watch. “Ah, man, it’s late. I needed to be on patrol half an hour ago.” He’s up in a flash, slipping his shoes on and chewing up the rest of his pizza.

“Do you have to go?” A hint of sadness tinges your words. 

“Yeah, the city would be a mess without me,” he jokes, but you weren’t remiss of his undertone sincerity. “Oh! That reminds me. Some bad guys are out on a robbing spree lately, tailing people at night, so if you work late, can you ask Chris to walk you home? Y’know, just in case I’m not there.”

He does this every time he’s over. Each week, there’s a new thing or group to be leery of, and each time he asks, you immediately nod to erase the gut-sinking concern in his brown eyes.

You rise from the couch and follow Peter to the door. He turns just as he’s about to twist the handle, stalls for a second, then envelopes you into a small, reluctant hug, leaving his arms lax just in case you wanted to pull away. 

Hugging is new, something you’ve only done about five times. The first was an unplanned disaster featuring a hard shove, repeated apologies, and a long, awkward moment of silence. 

You didn’t mean to push him away. It was one of those moments where, even though the urge to reciprocate was there, you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in such an innocent gesture. You weren’t ready. He respected that.

You knew your rash reaction bruised Peter more than he let on, but he learned to ease his way into your comfort zone with small touches. An intentional brush of his hand against yours, scooching closer to you on the couch, hi-fives with minimally laced fingers.

It took a while for the second hug-attempt, but you were cautiously prepared when it happened.

This time around, you return the gesture, winding your arms around his middle and setting your chin on his shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle your nose against his warm neck. His closeness frazzles you, even more so when he diminishes the gap between you, holding you tighter to his chest before releasing you and clearing his throat.

“Be safe,” you warn softly.

He puffs out his chest. “I have nothing to fear except fear itself.”

“That confident, huh?”

“Comes with the job. You get knocked down enough times, you get pretty confident once you realize you can always get back up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And yet you still have a fear of heights.”

“Never said I wasn’t afraid of falling. Just that it gets easier getting back up. ‘Sides, most of those petty offenders scare easy. All I gotta do is say I can plant eggs in ‘em.” He shudders at the idea himself.

“Please, Peter,” you implore, a smile sullying your stern frown.

Peter’s grin, always so wholesome and calming, blankets over your nerves. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I think Spider-Man needs someone to worry about him, sometimes. Even if he can get back up. Just… let caution work alongside confidence.”

He heeds your words with a more allayed smile, curtly nodding. “Vigilance. I can do that.”

You’re tempted to wrap him back into your arms to protect him from whatever dangers lie outside of your apartment. Instead, you exchange simple goodnights and shut the door once he reaches the stairwell.

The room and your shirt preserve his crisp evergreen scent long after he’s gone. It lingers as you crawl into bed. An aromatic reminder of his caress and warm skin.

As far as friendships go, you’ve never had one quite like this. The line you drew in the sand moves. Accommodates. Shrinks. Whether he’s aware of it or not, the time you spend cracking jokes with Peter at Hal’s, listening to his adventurous feats, becoming comfortable with his physical proximity, seeing his smile and the way his eyes light up when you smile at something funny or interesting he’s said, you fall just an inch.

He's growing on you. His presence. His laughter. His beaconing smile. His tentative touch. His uncanny ability to endear himself to your foreclosed heart.

It was easier to deny the connection when you didn’t know Peter. But now that you do, every moment you’re with him intensifies what you’ve painstakingly tried to avoid.

You’re falling in love with your Soulmate.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

Once again, it’s the Saturday brunch rush, and once again, Hal’s is up to its neck in bloodthirsty customers. All the booths are packed, as well as the stools. Some of the parties compact a seat meant for two with four people, and the aisle clogs with those who just came to grab a cup of coffee and conversation.

Chris is in his element, swinging from one booth to the next like a controlled tornado collecting orders, while you and Wendy are the unfortunate bunch who have to clean up desecrated tables and feed the greedy.

“If someone asks me what the specials are one more time, I’m going to rip my hair out,” Wendy grouses behind the counter as she puts away five menus.

You grumble back the same sentiments. Menus exist for a reason. And most of these people aren’t new to Hal’s, so the fact that they always have to ask grinds your gears.

11:30 a.m. is your saving grace. If you can hold on until Peter gets here, you’ll be fine.

Chris stops by the bar, pocketing what appears to be a twenty-dollar bill. “Lighten up, ladies. At least you’re off tomorrow.”

Wendy, in her 5’3’’ stature, looks feral. “I want to be off now.”

A rowdy group of high-schoolers sitting in the farthest booth is holding a contest to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest, and the two unlucky contestants shriek like banshees from self-inflicted brain-freeze. All three of you wince.

“We don’t get paid enough for this.”

Hal shouts from the back. “Order up! And stop slackin’ off out there!”

Wendy’s eye twitches as she marches to the back to pick up the orders. You’d have acted the same way if you didn’t have something to look forward to.

“They’re not going to tip me. I just know it,” Chris says to you, despondently looking over at the teens’ table again.

“They’ll come around. No one can resist this moneymaker.” You lightly bump him on the chin to indicate his smile. Heck, his whole chiseled face is a moneymaker, but that exuberant smile sells it all.

Over the last three months, just like your friendship with Peter, your friendship with Chris has improved. Even with Wendy. You aren’t at each other’s throats nearly as much as you used to be. Last week, she complimented your hairstyle, though it was immediately followed up with a snide comment: progress, either way.

Chris laughs. “And here I thought my friendly personality racked up all the tips.”

“It’s a bonus.”

He chuckles again, then blows out a hesitant breath. “So, Y/N…”

“So, Chris…”

“There’s, um, there’s gonna be another music festival in Cunningham Park tonight, and I was wondering if, y’know, you and Peter might want to come and hang?”

You and Peter… As if you were a pair. An item. A couple. To unsuspecting eyes, you knew you and Peter seemed to be just really good friends. Not even Hal questioned why you spent half an hour talking to him every weekday. If he had an inkling of who Peter actually was to you, he’d have confronted you by now.

Chris, on the other hand, kept a sharp eye on you when Peter was around. As meticulous as you were about keeping up pretenses in public, sometimes you’d slip. Your smile would be a tad too bright when Peter walked through the door and took his usual seat. You’d giggle at his jokes too loud. You’d stare into his eyes too long. Signs too blatant for Chris to miss.

You’re just waiting for him to put the last piece in the puzzle.

“I’d… I’d have to ask Peter.” You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But, yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Sure. Sounds like it’ll be fun. What time is it?”

Chris lays a hand on your forehead. “Temp seems fine. Pupils aren’t dilated. How many fingers am I holding up?”

You swat his hand down with a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Look, I know you probably don’t want me saying this out loud, but I’m glad you met Peter. We all are.”

“Why?” Evidently, you’re not that great at hiding your feelings as you thought.

Chris leans against the bar top, keeping an eye on the door just in case customers walked in. “Well, for starters, you literally just agreed to hang out with me for the first time since you started working here, which was—what—two years ago. And… you… I don’t know. You’re more open, y’know? Smiling and such.”

“I smiled before,” you say, a little defensive.

“Not like you do now. Before, it was all—,” Chris screws his mouth up. It’s strange. Alienated and wire-tight. The corners of his lips don’t fully come up, and it barely reaches his eyes. You instantly recognize it—the smile you hid behind.

Did you really smile like that? How is it that you never noticed how off-putting it was? If a server ever smiled at you like that, you’d assume they wished you disappeared off the face of the earth. Is that the smile people saw? More importantly, when did you stop putting it on?

“Two more strawberry milkshakes over here!” shouted one of the brain-freeze victims.

Chris hops to it. Always the perfect server. On his way to make the shakes, he says, “7 p.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

You weren’t going to confirm for Peter until he was there to answer for himself, but he doesn’t show. 11:30 a.m. and the rest of your shift flies by without a sight of him, which is strange, but not uncommon. Homework might have him tied up. September is a pretty busy month for schoolwork, and mid-terms are approaching, so he might be buried in assignments.

Worry doesn’t settle in until you’re getting ready for the music festival at 6:30 p.m., and Peter still hasn’t sent so much as a voicemail.

Evening summer sunlight filters in through your open window, the active sounds of Queens’ busy streets and subway station not allowing your room to fall quiet. Nights like this are perfect for outdoor festivals because it’s warm enough to sit in the grass and not bring a jacket.

Rather than enjoy the idea of getting out for the first time in years, your mind remains hooked on Peter.

It’s not like him not to leave a text if he’s caught up in other things. He’d make sure to tell you where he is, how far away. Since the beginning of this friendship, starting with his little notes, Peter’s constant communication wasn’t something you expected. But now that you do, this behavior just doesn’t match what you’re used to.

You pace the floor of your small bedroom, back and forth, wall to wall, abusively chewing your lower lip and turning your phone around in your hand, working up the nerve to call him, summoning up the will to voice your concern if he did answer.

When you do call, you get his voicemail. Trying again, you end up with the same result. Okay. He’s not picking up his phone.

Fear foregrounds your frustration. It bleeds into your words as you leave your fifth message. One after the other, they morph from mild concern to despairing panic. As the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon and the orange sunlight dwindles, so does your desire to go out.

Because… maybe you shouldn’t go. Maybe you should search for Peter. Finding any trace of him at all would be a stretch, and Chris might be upset about you ditching your plans the next time you see him, but you can’t possibly go out knowing something may be horribly wrong with Peter.

No. No, you won’t cancel plans like that. Peter is fine. Of course, he’s fine. He’s Spider-Man. His duties as a hero come first, no matter what. And he wouldn’t want you to stress so much about him.

Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he is okay. He’s alive. You feel it.

Somehow, you break the trance of your pacing and convince yourself to grab a cab ride to the park. When you arrive, the festival appears to be at a content standstill. It’s not as crowded as you assumed it would be for a Saturday night. Many of the attendants, ranging from all ages, are sitting on the grass, soaking up the fading rays of the sun while the bands finish up prepping. You’re greeted by the distinctive smell of hotdog vendors intermingled with ripening leaves.

There is nothing truly scenic about Cunningham Park, aside from the interspersed trees and trails. You’d been here a handful of times when you were younger, hanging out with friends during summer break, and one thing you loved about the park back then is how the sun shone through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow on nature.

You’re more appreciative of its beauty without the sun’s effect.

It wasn’t that hard finding Chris. All you had to do was look for the person most likely garnering friends from other groups. He’s on a blanket, seated in the center of the crowd and chatting with a group of three people.

When you’re close enough to be spotted, Chris’s face mouth out into a wide smile.

“You came!” Then his eyes roamed around. “Where’s Peter?”

You try for a carefree grin but let it fall when the effort became too much. “He couldn’t make it. School stuff.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine.” His smile drops fractionally, less joyful and more sympathetic. “I’m really glad you made it. Hey, guys. This is Y/N, my friend from work.”

You wave a little and hope for a genuine smile to grace your lips as they all scoot to make room for you on the blanket.

Chris introduces them all. He points to a buff, curly-haired guy named Dez, who you wouldn’t have guessed would be the type of guy to enjoy small park festivals. He looks like the kind of person who regularly crowd-surfs at huge concerts and somehow always winds up with a VIP pass. The next person is a slender girl named Asha, who has thick black hair knotted into a messy soccer bun and a glowing smile. 

The last person Chris introduces you to is his Soulmate. You knew just by the way he said his name. Resounding. Reverent. Borderline fanatic. His name is Quint, and unlike the others, he wraps you up in a surprising hug. What’s even more surprising is you hugging back.

“Nice to finally meet you.” His voice is richly robust, exactly how you would expect someone with his Adonis-like face to sound. Two gorgeous, outgoing Soulmates just seems unfair.

“Nice to meet you, too.” You can’t help looking from Quint’s face to Chris’s, then back again, and wondering if this is what people see when they see you and Peter—a perfect match. “Chris has told me a lot about you. All great things.”

“He better,” Quint says, jokingly gazing at Chris as a blush flared across Chris’s cheeks. “And he’s told me a lot about you and Peter.”

There it goes again: people pairing you two. It’s hard not to notice how natural that sounds, as though you two were meant to be spoken about as an inseparable whole.

You brush off your startled expression as best you can and ask, “Good things, right?”

He nods, then shares a smile with Chris. “I would’ve liked to meet him.” You roughly translate that to mean, ‘I would’ve liked to meet you both.’ The blush on Chris’s face deepens into an embarrassingly bright shade of red when he catches your eye.

A plucked, low-pitched guitar string echoes out to the crowd and effectively commences the start of the music festival. You must’ve missed the band's introduction because they got right into their music, playing a melancholic pop song that sounded pretty good. You were more interested in the guitar riffs and melodic piano notes than the lyrics, but they’re no doubt about love.

Halfway into their set, your stomach growls, and you remember that you didn’t have anything to eat since you got off work. The whole thing with Peter staved off your hunger. He’s still in the front of your mind, but you’re doing your best to enjoy the night with Chris and his friends.

Standing up, you tell Chris, “I’m gonna get a hotdog.”

He tilts his chin up in acknowledgment, then goes back to swaying his head to the music.

You got up just in time to beat the line. There are only two vendors in the park, and they’d be slammed once the music hits its intermission. The one you’re at resides near the outskirts of the crowd, closest to where you left the group, and two people are in front of you.

You wish Peter were here.

Your hand touches the outline of your phone in your back pocket while you wrestle with the idea of calling him again. Maybe he’ll pick up this time.

You’re just about to unlock your phone when you hear someone calling your name—a girl.

The voice gets closer and more breathless, like they’re running at you full speed ahead and couldn’t reach you fast enough. You turn to the sound just as the body slams into you, yanking you out of line and clutching you to their frame.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You pull away and stare straight into her face, not trusting your own eyes. “Manda?"

...

Taglist: @alexandria-euphoria​

[allhailthewicked]

Random JATP Headcannons: Reggie’s Allergies

Hi hello I wrote most of this a while ago and lost the motivation to finish it but I found it again and I finished it up. So there is a chance the writing styles in this could have changed a bit. Also, I know that Reggie is a ghost so he can’t have allergies, but this is my headcannon that I wrote for fun and not to be taken seriously so.... ALSO ALSO trigger warning for food mentions, allergic reaction, dread and panic attacks. Anyway onto the story

Reggie loves food, that’s a common fact about him. Everyone knows that. Honestly at this point his love language is giving and receiving food. So when Ray found out about the ghost band and how they’re now somewhat corporeal, he immediately accepted them into the Molina family and the boys were ECSTATIC, especially Reggie. And Reggie being Reggie (lovable and caring) decide to show his love for Molina family by cooking them a spectacular dinner (even though he couldn’t eat it). Reg decided to make the family a nice lobster and steak surf and turf with mashed potatoes. All was going well to well some might say (is this some foreshadowing??? nah, I would never). Reggie first had to kick the whole Molina family of the kitchen a frustrating task, but there were some many S-Tier moments like: 

“ Don’t worry Ray I promise your kitchen is in safe hands. I used to cook myself all the time in the 90′s, especially when Mom was visiting Gran in the hospice and my old man was at the bar. Don’t worry about me, Dad I’m fine, and I promise I won’t burn down your kitchen … Wait why are you- why are you looking at me like that? … WHAT NOOOO no I totally don’t see you as a father figure, Mr. Molina... oh... I can call you Dad.... noted... Dad!”

“... yes even you Ms. Julie. Why don’t you go find Luke? He was doing some serious pouting earlier because you were busy painting my nails he said something about me being your favorite. I mean he’s right but what if you go paint his nails too!!! I feel like navy is really his color.”

“Don’t be sad little dude tomorrow I’ll make some pancakes, and you can film for your channel and be all like ‘My Kitchen is Haunted By a Pancake Ghost (3 am challenge) *Almost Died* *EMOTIONAL*  See all your YouTube lessons taught me something. Well is that a smile I see now little dude? We love to see that now get out of the kitchen, so I cook you dinner.”

Anyway as I said before all is going well. Reggie hummed the newest song that they band was working on as he peeled, chopped, and boiled the potatoes before moving on to seasoning the rib-eye with salt, black & white pepper, and garlic powder moving his hip to the rhythm. He sliced the onions, mushrooms, and asparagus before sautéing them and going back to mashing the potatoes. Reggie did make the mistake of putting the steak in a scalding hot pan. It didn’t burn the steak or the kitchen that bad, but that wasn’t when things went wrong. It was when he grabbed one of the lobster when things got funky.

The second grabbed one of the swimmy bois he felt that something wasn’t right. He looked down at his hand, widening his eyes as red blotches and streaks started to spread across his hands. His hand rapidly start to swell and double in size, with a burning feeling started to arrive. 

Oh Shit.

How the hell after 25 years did I forget that I’m allergic to shellfish. Reggie thought to himself. I can even make a simple dinner right. It was the only way I could repay them. I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid. I’m so...

His vision started to blur from the unwiped tears, forgetting about his pain as he started to openly sob. He sunk down to the floor (after double-checking to make sure that the burners are off) and put his head in his hands as he ignores the itching and pain starting to appear on his face. 

Reggie sat in that position sobbing for who knows how long until he heard a voice, “Mijo? Are you okay”

Reggie's head shot up at the voice wiping away his tears. “Oh yeah I totally fine Ray onions just me cry. Don’t worry about me,” Reggie said, plastering on a fake smile he is used to putting on that was immediately undermined by his voice being watery and crackling with every word. Reggie followed Ray’s concerned gaze to his hand which swelled up to twice the size

“Reggie, you know you can tell me anything. I won’t be mad, I just want you to feel comfortable around here. I just want you to be safe,” Ray said, trying to comfort the ghost boy.

Immediately Reggie broke down again at Ray’s compassion, “I just ruined dinner because I forgot that I am allergic to fucking shellfish. How the hell does someone forget that.”

Ray pulled the crying boy into a hug rubbing his back as consoling him. “Hey hey hey mijo you didn’t ruin anything. The food looks and smells amazing you do not need to blame yourself for things that are out of your control. Okay, you did an amazing job.”

Reggie looked back up at him with big eye, “Really?”

“Of course! I am so proud of you. I couldn’t a meal like this even if I tried. You know I didn’t know that ghost had allergies,” Ray nodded examine Reggie’s hand. “Do you have your EpiPen on you or do ghost work differently?”

“Hey Reggie, Luke kicked me out of the garage and told me to hel- HOLY SHIT,” Alex shouted rushing over to Reggie. “Hold on I have a spare EpiPen in my bag”

After panicking from Alex and more hugs from Ray, Reggie was able to finish dinner. And it turned out to be a delicious after all.

Bonus:

When Reggie and Luke were in 5th grade, Luke thought it would be a good idea to catch bumblebees in their hands. Let me just say it definitely wasn’t. The caught and release about 3 bumblebees before the incident happened. One stung Reggie hand and immediately his hand swelled up, as hives started to appear on his skin. He tried to stand up before he doubled over in pain and had to sit back down. Luke started to FREAK OUT and ran to a teacher who was helping a baby Alex (by baby I mean like 10 year old) with his math homework. The teacher jumped up to to notice Reggie curled up in a ball breathing heavily, stabbing him with the EpiPen in her bag and sending another teacher inside to call the ambulance. And that was the first time Reggie rode in an ambulance.

When the boys were alive Reggie has mild reactions to a lot of food and he doesn’t realize it a lot of time. He just thought that everyone’s tongue goes numb and tingly when they eat kiwi. So one day Reggie passes Alex is eating a fruit salad and he asks him why he’s eating so much of it without stopping because of all the burning and weird tingles. Alex stops eating puts his for down and is  like Reginald, what do you mean by you feel burning when you eat fruit salad. Now Reggie knows that this is bad because Alex never busts out his full name unless he is trying to cheer him up or trying (and successfully) scolding him. Reggie goes on to explain that sometime when has fruit salad some fruits are spicy so he has to stop every once in a while to have a drink of water and goes a way brief, but the numbness is still there. The band decided to take time out of rehearsal and take him to the doctors and that is when they find out that’s Reggie is allergic to apples, pears, mangos, kiwi, and pineapple. Y’know, along with bees and shellfish.

A/N: Wow, it’s been a while since I wrote something for this fandom. It’s definitely not my best work but I enjoy the concept so much. Also, I’m sorry if some of the dialogue is cringe I’m tired and I really wanted to post before I lost motivation again.

[duskholland]

omg blurb night!!!!! what do you think about haz spending time with a female costar and maybe some rumours go around and reader gets jealous/upset and just loads loads of angst! (bonus points if it's all pinny and they aren't a couple, but ofc up to you!) 💛

this idea...omg. I got so into it. thank you so much for requesting!

warnings: alcohol consumption

-- continuing blurb night --

You know you have no valid reason to be upset, but as you spy Harrison chatting with his newest co-star across the club, it feels like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.

He’s got his head thrown back as he laughs, the sound muffled out by the banging tunes streaming through the nightclub, but it’s a noise you’re so familiar with that you can hear it rattling through your skull anyway. Harrison seems to lean in closer to her as she pulls out her phone and starts to show him something on the screen, and the sight of him bringing his hand up to rest on her shoulder makes you clench your fingers around your drink.

You might be a little bit in love with your best friend. Just a little bit. And to see him laughing and touching his friend so freely feels like you’ve had the air knocked out of your lungs, and suddenly you’re so jealous you can hardly breathe.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You glance to the side, managing a hard smile as you see your friend Harry there. Concern drifts through his stare as he nudges your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice chipping around the word.

“Liar.” Harry settles beside you, his eyes following the line of your gaze until he sees the offending figures of Harrison and his co-star, huddled up in the corner. “Ahh. I see.”

“What do you mean, you see?” You respond, gulping. You tear your eyes away from the heartbreaking scene playing out across the room to glare at him. When Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you, you scoff and down the rest of your drink.

“I know you think you’re very discreet, Y/N, but I’m not an idiot. And neither is Harrison.”

Your eyes round out with fear as your jaw loosens, a sudden feeling of dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. Harrison doesn’t know, does he? You’ve always been so careful, so intent on keeping your budding feelings under wraps so he didn’t find out and get all... weird about it. Because Harrison is your best friend, above everything else, and you would never do anything to jeopardise your relationship with him.

“What do you mean, neither is Harrison?”

Harry shrugs, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite trace. “I’m just saying, if the two of you actually talked to one another, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here looking like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I do not look like that,” you bite back. Your eyes shift back to Harrison, and you see he’s now moved a little further away from his co-star. The sight makes you relax. “Did you see the paparazzi shots, though? She was wearing his jacket.” You always used to be the one who got to wear Harrison’s jacket. “You can’t tell me that there isn’t something there.”

Harry just shrugs, and lands a chipper hand over your back. “I won’t pretend I know what his feelings are, but I do suggest that you buck up and just come out with it. And if not, at least try to look like you’re having fun, alright?”

You manage a weak smile. “Fine.”

The hours slip by, wasted away in the shitty West London club with sticky floors. You do everything in your power to avoid bumping into Harrison, which is dumb because he’s your best friend, but it hurts to look at him now. You spend a while fighting with your mind - analysing every single word you’ve said to him over the last month, regretting desperately that you hadn’t told him the second you felt something romantic for him, because now it appears it’s too late, and no matter what Harry says, you’re almost certain that Harrison feels something for his co-star. He’s by her side all night.

It’s not the best coping mechanism, but you decide to down a line of shots and dance the night away. 3am comes and you’re still going strong, despite the rest of the cast slowly peeling off and calling it a night. But you know that all that awaits you at home - in your flat, which you share with Harrison, of course - is loneliness and your thoughts, and you really don’t want to confront those, so more shots is your magical solution.

“Y/N, where have you been all night, I haven’t seen you?”

One moment you’re spinning around with Harry, the next Harrison’s face is drawing into focus. You grin lazily as your eyes take in his sweaty blond curls and his bloodshot eyes, but you frown as you see he’s staring at you with concern embedded over his beautiful, flushed face.

“Eh? I’ve been right here,” you shout out, voice barely cutting across the music. You giggle as someone bumps into your back, and your hands go out to land on Harrison’s shoulders. His fingers move up to hold your waist securely, and you stumble further into his arms. “You’re so warm, Haz, y’know that?” Your face presses into his shoulder as your hands trail along his biceps. “And strong. Have you been going to the gym?”

Harrison laughs heartily, and the sound is like music to your tipsy ears. He hugs you closer, and it makes your heart pang in your chest.

“Thanks, love,” he says, and you can hear the confusion in his voice, but instead you focus on the way he’s gently passing his hands over your back. When he speaks next, it’s directed to Harry, “How much has she had?”

Harry throws out a number that sounds remarkably too high, but you’re too content clinging onto Harrison to really care to correct him.

“Y/N. Hey, look at me.” Harrison’s back, his lips at your ear, and reluctantly you let him pull you out of his shoulder. “We’re gonna go home now, yeah? You’re sloshed.”

“But it’s gonna be cold outside,” you complain, eyebrows furrowing as you stare into his icy blue eyes. His gaze fills with mirth, and you bat at his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, Harrison. I’m gonna get cold.”

“Then you can use my jacket.”

Your grin sours immediately. “Ha,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You step back, Harrison’s touch falling away from you completely. “I thought you’d already given your jacket away.”

His face is the picture of confusion, but Harrison reaches out for you anyway and winds his arm around yours. “It’s checked in the cloakroom?” He says, gently guiding you towards the exit of the club.

“No, no, not that one.” You don’t even know if he can hear you, over the noise of the club, but that thought comforts you. “I’ve seen the photos, Haz. I know you gave your other one away.”

You’re in the cloakroom now, and you’re the only ones milling around. Harrison sits you down on the bench in the middle as he begins to trail through the line of fluffy jackets, his gaze continuously being pulled back to you.

“Those photos are bullshit,” he mutters. “The media see one thing and take it completely out of context.”

“But you let her wear your jacket. That means something.”

“Does it?” Harrison turns his head to you, a small grin widening over his face. “I let you wear my jacket. Hell, Y/N, I let you keep my jackets, and my hoodies. Your wardrobe is full of my shirts. What does that mean, eh?”

Suddenly you become very interested in playing with your fingers. “So… You don’t like her?”

“Not romantically.”

You breathe out a large sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Harrison pulls you up from the bench carefully, and he wraps you up in his oversized jacket. You snuggle into the sleeves, and he stays standing in front of you, his warm hands travelling to your face. You freeze under the touch, your lips parting as you take in the way he’s looking at you so intently it feels like he’s drawing your heart up your throat.

“If you weren’t so hammered right now…” He starts, but he trails off with a sigh, and bites his lower lip.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harrison moves one of his hands away from your face and tidies up a few strands of your unruly hair. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“What were you going to do?”

He’s looking at you softly, and he tilts his head to the side. “I was going to tell you something. A secret.”

“Tell me now,” you whine. He looks so pensive and reluctant, but beneath that, there’s something like adoration floating around his eyes. With a smile flickering out across your lips, you lean in nearer and add, “I promise I won’t remember in the morning.”

And Harrison sighs, but you know from the way his eyes deflate that you’ve worn him down. He links his hands with yours and says slowly,

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. The only person I want to be with is you.”

And it doesn’t matter that you’re beyond drunk, because you know that there’s no chance you’ll be forgetting those words any time soon.

[cno-inbminor]

request: “for akaashi (fluff preferably) based on la la lost you by niki?” for anon

a/n: this ended up being a mix of angst and fluff, mainly bc the song itself is pretty bittersweet. i tried my best, i hope anon still likes this though! 

genre: angst, fluff, gn!reader.

warnings: mentions/implications of sex and alcohol 

song in reference: la la lost you - niki 

-

Akaashi Keiji was one of the kindest souls to ever grace your life.

You distinctly remember the first night you met him. You and your friends had gone out to a bar in Koreatown on a warm October night. Bokuto, who was dating one of said friends, had invited his own to join. “The more the merrier!” He had howled and you had playfully rolled your eyes at him, but you were curious. On multiple occasions, he had spoken of his best friend and roommate who seemed endlessly busy and “never had time for fun”, and how much he wanted for you all to meet him. This was the one night that he would show, as he had just completed a massive project and felt that he deserved a night out.

Your fingers had been swirling the straw in your rum and coke when Bokuto’s eyes lit up at the person who had walked through the door. “Yo, Akaashi!” He had yelled, waving his arm around so flamboyantly that no one would miss it. And Akaashi Keiji had appeared.

He was ethereal.

LA was a hub for fashion, full of beauties walking down Sunset Boulevard as if it was their own runway. Yet this man before you was dressed in nothing but black, ripped skinny jeans, a black button down over a grey V-neck t-shirt, and you felt that he had stolen the show. His hair had been stylishly disheveled, but even the dim lights of the bar couldn’t hide the color of his eyes. Cobalt blue had stared into your own – you could’ve sworn he was looking right into your soul, but the contact was short-lived as Bokuto stood and pulled him in for a bro hug. The tiny smile on his face had conveyed that he was content in being here, and he left to go get a drink from the bar.

When he returned, the only available seat was across from you. One by one, Bokuto rattled off your names, to which you all had either waved or shook his hand. You settled for the latter with your brightest smile, and when sparks of electricity coursed through your vein at the contact, you did your best to hide its effects on you. Perhaps he had felt the same, but you’ll never know now.

It had been a fun night. Your nerves were getting the best of you, going through your drinks a little faster than usual. On your third glass of rum and coke, Akaashi had taken the liberty of getting a glass of water for you, even ordering a couple of appetizers for the table. “You never buy me food!” Bokuto had cried out while stealing some of the kimchi fries.

“Idiot, who does most of the cooking at home?”

“Okay, maybe, but still! What’s the occasion?”

“I’m expecting a big bonus after this project,” Akaashi had pointed out, though perhaps the tips of his ears were pinked. “Take advantage of my generosity, it doesn’t happen very often.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re always nice, and you know it.”

Akaashi had purposefully placed the basket of onion rings in front of you, gesturing for you to take the first one. The rest of your friends had curiously watched the interaction, their knowing grins widening when Akaashi watched you intently bite into the fried appetizer and smiled when you expressed your approval.

Akaashi had been the one to take care of you that night, though you were adamant in walking around first to sober up. He had no problem driving, only a couple of beers in his system, but you wanted to ensure that it was completely safe for him. At the time, you also just really wanted some pastries from the nearby bakery and Asian bakeries were practically heaven -- nothing could convince you otherwise. With little inhibitions, you had taken the plunge and linked arms with him, practically dragging him in the right direction. You had missed the blush on his cheeks, and to most others, you two looked like any other couple enjoying the night.

He had indulged in your rambling and broken thoughts, carrying on an easy conversation with you. He had even paid for the slice of a chocolate Swiss roll cake you wanted, getting a cappuccino to-go for himself.

“You have to let me pay you back,” you had grumbled in the passenger seat of his car: a dark grey, modest Toyota Corolla that was a few years old, added to the picture you were trying to paint of him. “Even if you’re expecting a bonus, I wanna make it up to you.”

“Take my number then,” he replied without missing a beat, his eyes bored into his phone while typing out your address into the navigation app. “Or Venmo, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t try to return it to you.”

“So I have to make excuses to see you then,” you mumbled under your breath. But Akaashi must have the hearing of a bat, because right after you had said those words, he had chuckled and looked over at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You don’t need to.”

And thus began a wonderful three-year relationship.

-

You honestly wish it had been a more painful break-up. Perhaps it would’ve made you miss him less.

Akaashi had been watching you sleep, your naked body wrapped in his sheets and his finger lightly tracing circles on your arm. The action must have woken you up, your body stirring and eyelids fighting exhaustion. Akaashi’s heart melted at the smile you offered him – as much as you had referred to him as an angel, he felt that nothing was more beautiful than the sight before him shrouded in the rays of the California sun. “Good morning, love,” he cooed.

“G’morning, Keiji,” you mumbled and snuggled into him. His arms wrapped around your waist and he planted a kiss on your nose, causing you to giggle. If he could have you here for eternity, he’d trade over his soul in a heartbeat. “What’s our plan for today?” You sleepily asked.

“I can make some breakfast, if you’d like. Or we can go get some dim sum?” He proposed.

“Hmmm, as good as dim sum sounds, I want to make breakfast for you, y’know. A little thank you for last night.”

“Enjoyed it that much?” He smirked, eyes drinking in the number of love bites he had left on your body.

“Don’t get cocky,” you teased, booping his nose with a finger before you rolled out of bed. Akaashi appreciatively watched the scene before him, especially as you bent over to pick up the button down he wore the night before and discarded on the ground. You rifled through his drawers to grab some clean underwear you purposefully left there, sliding it on before leaving for the kitchen.

About twenty minutes later, Akaashi had wrapped his arms around you from behind, watching you flip pancakes. His chin rested on your shoulder and his lips occasionally left kisses on your neck. The sinking of lead in his heart began to grow heavier, even as you handed him a plate, butter and syrup already put on just the way he liked it. It wasn’t until you were almost done eating when he had broached the topic.

“They’re giving me a promotion.”

You had paused in sipping your coffee. “Keiji, that’s amazing! You’ve been working so hard for this, I’m so proud of you!”

“I know, it’s great to finally be acknowledged. But…they want me to move. To New York City.”

“Oh.”

Akaashi gnawed on his bottom lip in anxiety, watching all the emotions process on your face. He watched you struggle to find the right words, and his heart dropped when you mustered the best supportive smile you could.

“Let’s make the most of the time we have left then.”

In those few months, Akaashi began to understand the different measurements of time. No longer was it measured in just seconds and minutes. Akaashi began to measure it in the number of days he could still hold your hand, the number of times he could pull you in a hug, the moments when you would lean over the back of his chair to observe his work. How many more kisses could he leave on your cheek? How many more smiles would he see in person before they were just in an electronic screen?

In all fairness, the two of you had tried to make it work. But with his promotion, he had been busier than ever, completing projects, building rapport with his new team, getting used to the city. Coupled with your own hectic life, a 3-hour time difference was just enough to drive a nail into the coffin. There was no fighting, no screaming. Just calm acceptance that perhaps, this wasn’t going to work out.

“I’m so sorry,” he had whispered over the phone, nearly on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay,” you had softly replied and Akaashi wanted to explode. To you, there was nothing he could do wrong. Everything was always okay with you when it came to him, and for once, he wanted you to tell him it wasn’t. He didn’t have the gall to voice his frustration – after all, wasn’t it his fault anyways?  “Keiji, just…let me know if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you.”

“You’re too good to me,” and that was his way of acknowledging you. The phone call ended with gentle goodbyes, yet it took every cell in his body to not fling the phone against his apartment wall.

5 months later, you find yourself driving down Highway 1 on a fall afternoon. Though it’s full of curves and loops, the journey is freeing and calming with the view of the ocean right by you. There is serenity in the waves that crashes against the cliffs, and nothing is more beautiful than a California sunset. Even though the wind often howls over the sea and blows your hair into a disarray, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Your hands steer your car into a resting spot and shift the gear into park. The keys leave the ignition and you collapse into the back of your seat, eyes turning to appreciate the view in front of you. Just like the many other days since, your mind drifts to thoughts of Akaashi.

Does he regret breaking it off? Does he miss you as much as you do him? Does he wish that he had fought harder for your relationship?

You almost laugh to yourself – Akaashi had always loved driving to places with you, one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel. The number of times he had taken you to the Malibu beach to watch the sunsets was astronomical in your three years. Yet he had traded it all for the shadowy undergrounds of the New York subways, his car sold to help with moving expenses, and walking through the crowded streets. The closest he would ever get to driving was sitting in taxis, but stuck in traffic with a stranger was, perhaps, less than ideal for him. New York City is charming in its own way, you agree. But LA was different, and LA was where it had all begun for you two.

Akaashi often gets tagged in pictures with other women, their grins wide and skin glinting from the flash of the camera. Whether they’re co-workers or new partners in his life, you can’t help but wish for his happiness. There was little reason to be bitter, to hope that he experiences the pain of missing what he lost. You only wished that New York City had truly welcomed him into its embrace, treating him with the same love you had given. After all, it was very unlikely that he would ever return to the city of angels. Your inner demons would become solely yours to deal with, nothing for him to worry about any longer.

And for the first time in months, you felt at peace. You were ready to take the leap and regain the last piece of closure. Fishing your phone from the cupholder, you felt lucky that you still had a couple of bars of signal – it’s not too late in New York, and Akaashi would most likely still be awake. Your thumb taps and scrolls across your screen until you find his number, hesitating slightly before hitting the call button. Too nervous to hold the phone to your ear, you turn on the speaker and hear the dial tones echo in your car.

There’s a pause, a click, a rustle of papers, then, “—hello?”

A small smile graces your complexion, your eyes catching the view of the sun setting over the horizon of the ocean. The pang in your heart was akin to the feeling of missing a platonic friend rather than an ex-boyfriend. You were healing.

“Hey, Keiji. How are you doing?”

fin

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here are my personal top five pat gill videos | a 2.1k word long post where i rank and review pat gill’s videos for just way too long.

Right around the tail end of April, 2020, I fell into the rabbit hole of my current obsession; Polygon Dot Com Video Content. As a consequence of this was being introduced to the phenomenon of Pat Gill. A dire consequence of that consequence was me slowly, deeply, irrevocably, finding myself attracted to this marionette of a man. So, I enjoy his content and I think he’s hot and that combined with the fact that some of my friends bully me over that latter fact has inspired me to do this: rank my personal favorite Pat Gill videos in a post that’s entirely too long.

Before I get straight into the rankings, I need to explain my process. 

First, I needed to narrow my scope. Polygon has a lot of videos. Polygon has a lot of videos with Pat Gill in them. If I didn’t narrow my scope, I would either go bonkers yonkers or have a list that would be kilometric in length and thus miss the entire point of ranking altogether. So, for my sanity, I am excluding any videos that are a part of a Polygon video series. This means no Overboard, no Gill and Gilbert, no Video Game Theatre, etc. If I included these, I would cry. I do not want to cry over Polygon Dot Com Video Producer Pat Gill.

Second, I need a criteria. If I just ranked videos with no system, I would find myself endlessly rearranging my list based on whatever thought comes out on top in my mind at the given moment. I am a disorganized person, so I need rules. I have decided that I will rank Pat Gill videos using the EEEH criteria. 

Entertainment. Do I smile, watching the video? Do I chortle? Am I filled with the embarrassing urge to show this video to my sister and derive glee from her laughing at the exact same moment I laughed? Entertainment is key.

Education. Did I come out of this video knowing something I originally did not know? More importantly, was I engaged in the learning process? I come from a family of teachers, so I have high standards when it comes to education. If I am to learn, I must learn well.

Exaltation. This is a bit of an oddball criteria, but it is important to me. The word “exalted” is defined as “elevated in rank, character, or status.” This criteria refers to how good it is at exalting, elevating, pulling me out of a depressive episode. That is to say I’ve been in a depressive episode for the past month and whether or not the video made me stop crying and brush my teeth is essential. Polygon video content has been integral to my serotonin production lately, and thus the video’s ability of acting as an audiovisual antidepressant for me factors into the rankings.

[BONUS POINTS] Hotness. How Hot Is Pat Gill In It? I felt bad, morally, ranking videos based on how good looking I thought Pat Gill was in it---because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that, and people don’t exist to be beautiful, they just are, and I agree---so I’m relegating this criteria as a bonus point. Standard is 0, because he’s always hot in my mind, but he gets plus points if he is exemplary in the hotness department.

The maximum score for each of these criteria is 5 points, making the perfect score a 15, but because of the bonus points, a 20 is, hypothetically, possible. 

With that out of the way, let me dive right into it. 

5. The fastest interview ever with Ben Schwartz from Sonic the Hedgehog

Entertainment: 5 Education: 2 Exaltation: 2 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 11

Pat Gill is a good interviewer, he’s engaging and fun and keeps the interview interesting, but this interview is particularly special because it seems that, and let me quote Youtube user AudreyN who left a comment on this video stating “ben schwartz consumed all seven chaos emeralds prior to this interview.” Pat Gill and Ben Schwartz’s dynamic is amazing, and by “dynamic” I do mean “Ben Schwartz absolutely just fucking dunking on Pat Gill for 14 entire minutes.” and it is glorious.

For Entertainment this scores a solid 5. Quite honestly the funniest interview I’ve ever watched in my entire life. Just the sheer beauty in the exchange [Pat] “You would use Sonic’s power to gaslight me?” [Ben] “Just you.” In terms of Education, I guess I did learn a bunch of things about the Sonic movie that I didn’t know before, but the avenue by which it was portrayed in was not exactly the most engaging, more like I was absorbing it via watching two experts discuss on a webinar. I would have given just 1 point to Education but I made it 2 because of the wonderful knowledge that Pat Gill can draw a pretty good Sonic in a few seconds. When it comes to Exaltation, I must admit that while this video got quite a few laughs out of me, it didn’t make me want to get out of bed and take a shower. 

BONUS: Pat is +2 hot in it. His short hair makes him look very handsome. He’s a spiffy boy, in this video. Very, very good.  

4. Pat Will Not Tweet at Nintendo This Week Because He is Resting at Home — PLEASE RETWEET, Episode 12 

Entertainment: 5 Education: 0 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +1 Total Score: 11

I know I’m breaking a rule I set for myself a few paragraphs earlier by including an episode of Please Retweet, which counts as a video series, but this is my post and I can do whatever I want. More importantly, this video is so fucking funny to me, it feels like it would be a crime not to put it in this list. 

Solid 5 out of 5 for entertainment. Pat Gill, alone in his apartment, drinking six cans of what I think is beer silently while the intro music plays. That scene in itself should win an Oscar. Sadly, a solid 0 for Education, because I learn nothing in this video except for the fact that Pat Gill is the type of person to put out a coaster and then just completely not use it. I quantify things as educational if I can maybe answer a trivia question with them, and unfortunately, this fact does not pass that test. In terms of Exaltation, seeing Pat Gill lie down on the floor next to his cat made me get out of bed to do the same with my dog, and with myself thusly out of my bed cocoon of sadness, I was able to actually complete tasks on the day I watched this video. Perfect 5.

BONUS: Pat is +1 hot in this because there’s something very beautiful about him being a little bit miserable. However, I do miss his beard when I watch this video. It is one of my favorite things about him, and it is not present here.

3. Pat and Simone Play Human: Fall Flat

Entertainment: 5 Education: 1 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: 0 Total Score: 11

I very much enjoy Polygon’s gameplay streams. I often play them in the background while I’m doing other stuff like doodling or origami, but this stream is special. It is special because of the moment at 24:00 when Pat Gill, in game, swings a stereo into a glass window, shattering it, while saying, “Actually, y’know what? Let’s talk about trauma.” and then proceeds to tell a horrible and embarrassing story from his childhood where he had to do a rap about Ancient Egypt. 

5 points for Entertainment. This is partly because of Pat’s tragic childhood story about the Egypt Rap (and, segue just to point out 33:22 the incredible moment where you can hear Pat’s feral panic when Simone finds the lyrics to the Egypt Rap) but also because Pat and Simone just talking to each other is so deeply entertaining to me in a very comfy way. I’m starved for human interaction, in this quarantime, okay. Let me enjoy listening to other people have conversations while playing video games. Education scores a 1 because, again, nothing in this video will let me answer a trivia question, however it does get 1 point and not a 0 because the Egypt Rap’s lyrics are in the comments and I did end up learning stuff about Ancient Egypt that I didn’t know. A perfect 5 for Exaltation because this video showed me that talking about trauma can actually be cathartic, given that you’re trashing a video game living room at the same time, and I think that message of not bottling up your experiences really helped me, in these trying times.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for the entirety of this episode, so he scores the standard 0. I’m sure he was hot. We just couldn’t see him.  

2. Why Bloodborne and Muppets are the same thing

Entertainment: 4 Education: 4 Exaltation: 3 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 12

Ah yes, one of Pat’s “x is y because of z” videos. He’s made a number of these and they’re all very good but this one is my favorite among them and earns a spot on this list because 1) I think puppets are cool and 2) I fucking love monsters. 

This video scores a 4 on Entertainment, just shy of perfect, because as funny as it is, it also gives me the vibe like I am being lectured by a professor who’s just a little bit off the shits. And we all know that lectures are supposed to be taken seriously. Which brings us to Education, which also scores a 4. I learned a lot in this video! Watching Pat Gill explain to me that children’s puppets and these horrifying viddy game monsters use the same character principles in different ways is not only very educational but is also explained in a streamline and easy to understand manner that I WISH some of the shitty professors at my old university could emulate. As for Exaltation, while this video did give me enough energy to have a meal, I did eventually end up back in bed for the night at 8pm crying myself to sleep, thinking “I’m like the slime scholar. Used to be a scholar. Now they’re slime.” 

BONUS: Pat Gill is +2 hot here. He’s rockin that basic ass monochromatic aesthetic and I love his look dearly. 

1. Preparing for Big Boy Season in Red Dead Redemption 2 

Entertainment: 5 Education: 3 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +3 Total Score: 16

Here we are. My favorite non video series Pat Gill video. The video where Pat Gill tries to make Red Dead Redemption 2 protagonist, Arthur Morgan, large. 

Perfect fucking 5 for Entertainment, which I’m sure many may find odd. Afterall, this video is told in a serious investigative tone reminiscent of Vox’s videos on current issues. But that’s the glory of it. The complete and utter ‘playing it straight and serious’ for a ridiculous issue in a video game. It is high tier comedy in a subtle, understated way that sings to my comedy loving heart in a melody so lovely, so wonderful, that it urged me to give this video 5 points for Entertainment. It scores 3 on Education, because I have never played Red Dead Redemption 2, nor will I ever, but now I know things about it. The information was also relayed to me in a very interesting style, via something like a crime procedural, and thus it was engaging for me to absorb all this new knowledge. Exaltation scores a perfect 5 because of this video’s beautiful end about existential smallness. No joke, but hearing Pat Gill say “Our bigness isn’t measured in pounds, but in the impact we have on the people with whom we shared the world.” deadass made me want to talk to my friends again after conversationally isolating myself for 3 days. Preparing for Big Boy Season has a special place in my heart. And there it will stay.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for most of the video but he does appear for like 15 seconds in the middle of it, and guess what. He’s hot. +3 hotness. Good beardage, good hair, all in all, good Pat Gill. 

So there you have it. My five favorite Pat Gill videos. If you read this whole thing, holy shit. You’re welcome, I guess.