#but it won't get mixed up with anything

[teaspoonofdragons]

A Claire's and a Hot Topic Walk Into a Bar (They Leave Immediately Because They're Both Underage)

Summary: The new kid's all sorts of confusing, to Amitie. They're perfectly capable of a normal conversation, hell, he's even usually rather nice, if a little prone to spacing out and, incidentally, ignoring people. But he's also got a tendency to start fights, and he's always trying to goad Amitie into one. She can't understand why he's sending her all these mixed signals-

-And he just can't understand why she won't play with him.

(made for the au in this post)

Characters: Red!Sig, Amitie, Raffina, Klug, Arle Nadja(mentioned)

Warnings: Swearing, implied past bullying and manipulation, miscommunication

Word count: 3321

Amitie's not completely sure she believes Raffina when she claims that Sig's not really all that mean. She trusts her friend's judgement, of course! It's just, well, personal experience claims otherwise.

By no means does she hate him! Amitie finds it... Difficult, to really find enough anger towards any one person to hate anyone. But he sends her an awful lot of mixed messages and she feels like he's toying with her at this point.

He's plenty nice- when he feels like it. It's not like Raffina where all her insults are made either in jest or because she's trying to get her to do... whatever rivals are supposed to do. He'll be nice, and then he'll get mean, and then he'll ask her if she "wants to take this outside," and Amitie's dumb but she's not stupid. She knows he's looking for a fight.

And she'll tell him no, thanks, they can Puyo battle inside just fine, and he'll grumble because that's not the kind of fight he wanted, but he'll do it anyways. If nothing else, he calms down a little afterward whether he wins or loses, but he still seems irritated over something regardless.

Well, admittedly, she's pretty sure that's just his face. Even when he's doing something he actively enjoys he manages to look a little annoyed. So, she can't actually be too sure on that front.

Either way! Would it kill the guy to be a little consistent?

Raffina doesn't seem to see the issue. Amitie's seen them trading blows- physically, not with words or Puyo- but they seem to be on friendly terms. More than that, really. If Raffina doesn't sit with Amitie over lunch she's sitting with Sig, and if Amitie ever wants to know something about him but doesn't want to go through the hassle of asking him to face, well, Raffina will probably do just as well.

She has learned through this method many things. Primarily that despite his very... Red appearance, he's actually rather fond of the color blue. Who'd have thought?

Arle doesn't really see the problem either. Says he's just got an "interesting" way of making friends.

Yeah, interesting is certainly a word choice alright. Amitie can't see what either of them see in him.

"What's the deal with you two anyways," Raffina asks.

"He's mean! I swear, he has it out for me!"

"He's no worse than Klug."

"Yeah, but Klug's not good at it," Amitie counters. "He usually just comes off as silly."

"And Sig is?"

When they'd first met, and Amitie had come with her boundless excitement to say hi to the new kid and introduce herself to him, he'd given her a quick once-over and asked, after she'd finished talking, if she was the reincarnation of a Claire's.

As in the store, Claire's.

And wow, that should not have hurt as much as it did, but Amitie had never felt more shot down before in her life. She tells Raffina this much, and to her dismay Raffina laughs.

"I'm so sorry," she squeaks between laughter, "you're right, that's so cruel. I'm going to have to give him a stern talking to, next we meet."

Amitie groans, looking up at the sky. After a moment Raffina manages to add, "You two could be an item. Claire's and Hot Topic."

The look of complete and utter dismay Amitie shoots her sends Raffina into another giggling fit, and Amitie is so upset by her statement that she demands a Puyo battle. Raffina loses because she keeps breaking concentration and laughing again, and Amitie can no longer show her face around her for the rest of the day, she decides.

Sig's back and forth indecision over whether to be nice to Amitie or to attempt demolishing her in a fight comes to a head on a really, really bad day for Amitie. It's not uncommon for her to wake up late, but she also forgot her homework, and her lunch, and worst of all they were practicing aiming their magic. Most of the time this was generally all good fun, a break from the monotony of normal, boring schoolwork, but not today.

Not for Amitie, who was already in a pretty piss-poor mood, who can't aim for shit, and who has a gnat in her ear goading her for every shot she manages to fire 2 feet away from the intended target.

"I'm sure Glasses would let you borrow his spectacles if you asked," Sig passively throws at her before muttering "cardinal," at his own target.

Amitie huffs and doesn't answer him. She fires off another shot- how the hell did she get it to land there?

"Careful," Sig drones, "you might hit The Tower."

Amitie has to think about that one for a second, but she does come to the correct conclusion that the joke is that The Tower is quite literally opposite of where they're currently aiming. She growls under her breath this time, and tries again. She actually gets a bullseye, and she points at Sig with a "ha!"

He lets out a low whistle. "Wow," he drawls.

Amitie can't tell if it's sarcastic. Everything sounds sarcastic coming from him.

Nothing else is said between the two of them for a few more spells, but then just as Amitie casts one-

"Miss."

And miss she does. She cringes as she watches her flare only barely singe the edge of the target. She buries her face in her hands for a second, then turns to face Sig.

"What is your problem!"

"I've got a few. Like, my arm's always too warm and it's really annoying."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it!"

He tilts his head at her like he doesn't know, actually.

"Quit insulting me!" She demands. "You're not helping!"

"'M not supposed to be."

"Well you could at least not make it worse!"

"What're you gonna do?" He bares teeth and raises his right arm, flexing his clawed fingers at her. "You gonna cry about it?"

"I might!!"

"Oh."

He lowers his hand with a frown. "Well, maybe, you'd feel better about it. If we fought."

Amitie groans. "I'm not going to fight you! I'm not going to get detention because you're being incomprehensible!"

He stares at her.

"Incorporeal!"

She is met with further silence. She sighs, turns around, and calmly asks the classmate on the other side of her, "Klug, what's the word for when someone's being stubborn, and it starts with 'in,' and has a c and an r in it, I think?"

Klug blinks at her and thinks for a moment. "Incorrigible?"

Amitie turns back to Sig and gestures to Klug. "That!"

Sig opens his mouth.

"Shut up!" Amitie interrupts. "No! No, I'm not gonna let you walk all over me anymore! Stop talking and leave me alone!"

He lets it click shut again. They stare at each other for a tense few seconds.

And then he leaves.

Just up and walks off the school grounds entirely. Of course, Klug being Klug, he shouts after Sig, and when the other doesn't turn around he tells Ms. Accord he's gone off to who knows where. She says she'll take care of it, and Amitie doesn't see him for the rest of the day.

Or the next.

He does come the day after that, and he very resolutely does not talk to her. Refuses to look in her direction, even. Amitie doesn't say anything to him either, except for some reason his silence is giving her anxiety. Maybe he's just trying to give her space after her outburst.

A lot of it.

Multiple days' worth.

Okay. Okay now she's definitely more than a little bit anxious.

She knows, realistically, she should be overjoyed! He's finally leaving her alone! But those few times that she manages to catch his eye he's quick to look away and he always looks...

Sad. Dejected? She's not sure. It's hard to read his expression on a good day, let alone when he's clearly having a bad one. Or, many. But he sure doesn't look like his normal, slightly-annoyed-by-everything self.

She's watching him eat from the far side of the school grounds, which is probably really weird and she'd be super embarrassed if he caught her, but she can't help it.

"You'd think you're worried about him or something," Raffina points out, checking out her nails in faux-disinterest.

"Is he okay?" Amitie blurts out.

Raffina snorts, lowering her hand and bringing her gaze to Amitie's. "No."

Amitie watches him flump forward onto the dirt. Now the only thing she can really see of him is a mass of varying shades of red and two little horns poking out from it. She frowns.

"I mean- I know I was a little harsh," Amitie mumbles sheepishly, and Raffina looks at her like harsh isn't the word she'd use but she remains quiet, "but it wasn't that bad, right?"

Raffina sighs, turning her eyes toward the sky. "Normally, I'd say it couldn't even be considered bad in the first place. But for him, it was bad enough."

"You'd think someone as nonchalant as he is wouldn't be bothered by it..." Amitie grumbles.

"Yes, well, from you, it meant something."

"Why?"

Raffina blinks and goes quiet. "I think... Perhaps that's something you should ask him yourself."

Amitie looks a little horrified at the idea but she knows if Raffina won't tell her the first time she's not going to spill at all, unless maybe she bribes her. She swallows, and resolutely stands up. Right. Okay. She's going to figure this out one way, or another. And by that, she means only one way, actually.

Sig has found that fighting someone is one of the best ways to get to know them.

That's what the kids at his old school would tell him, anyways, and they were right. After his right arm and eye had turned red and he'd started inexplicably growing horns under his mess of hair, he'd gotten a lot more friends.

A lot more bruises, too. A broken nose, once.

They were a little on the aggressive side, sure, but he'd found that at some point he'd started matching them in temperament. He's not sure when that happened.

He's not sure why his parents decided to move him to a different school, either. He'd spent so long without any friends and of course, it's only when people actually start playing with him that his parents decide to move. Go figure, huh.

But he's got new friends here, at Primp. Not as many, and they act a little differently, but they're friends regardless.

Raffina was very, very easy to make friends with. He knows a lot about her. She's confident, practiced, she knows what she's doing- it's not the kind of practice where she learned everything on the fly and has been working on it since, like Sig, it's the kind that's purposeful.

She's also hotheaded, though, and prone to making more mistakes if she thinks she's losing. This carries through most of the things she does, her competitiveness a constant in her personality.

Arle's another one he made pretty quick friends with. She's a little on the looser side, more in it for the fun than the glory. But sometimes, when she's cornered, she's like a wild animal. Unpredictable. Violent. She's been in tight spots before, and it's clear how she got out of them.

(She apologized for the burn on his arm, and he waved her off and said if it was anything like the others it'd go away within the day. She didn't ask what that meant.)

He tried to be friends with Klug. He seems fun. Unfortunately, while Sig had managed to convince him to take an argument to the back of the school, when he lifted his fist to throw the first punch Klug flinched and screamed and curled up on the ground.

It wasn't even his right hand. He was using his normal human one to test the waters. Unfortunately, it seems these particular waters have the depth of a puddle. Shame.

Amitie, though. He can't understand Amitie. He's not very good at reading people as it is, but she's sending him so many mixed signals and he can't seem to interpret them correctly. She follows through with the lead up just fine, huffing and puffing the whole way through, but then he tries to actually play with her and she always refuses, and she's absolutely unbending in this decision. She'll Puyo battle with him, but it's not quite the same.

He guesses he's learned some things about her that way. She's smarter than she acts, and than other people tend to make her out to be. She's just smart in a very particular area. But she's prone to picking at her own mistakes. She notices one, and the entire thing breaks down.

And, yeah, that's pretty significant. But he bets he'd learn more if she really fought him. She was the first person to really approach him, to say hi rather than lean over to her friends and ask "what's wrong with his arm?" Of course he'd want to get to know her.

"You could always just tell her you want to be friends," Raffina'd suggested to him. "That might be, I don't know, easier?"

And yeah, he could. But that's not being close. That's just saying "let's be friends." That's not genuine- there's something different, something vulnerable about biting without bark. Bits and pieces of the other person bleed through. He wonders what Raffina and Arle see, when they play with him.

The way they play feels different from the way his friends at his old school do. They're not gentler on him, necessarily, but it hurts way less. He wants to know if Amitie is the same.

But he could never tell if she felt that way too.

Guess he has his answer now.

He's laying in the grass and watching ants crawl towards the food he'd lain down for them. He couldn't stomach it. Why waste it when he could feed a colony for days.

He hears someone approach, but he doesn't bother looking up. They stop not even a full foot behind him, and seem to shift a little awkwardly.

"... Sig?"

He looks up to glare at Amitie (he doesn't even mean to glare, that's just how he looks), but it doesn't last long. He decides craning his neck over his shoulder like that is too much work, so he lets it drop back onto the grass and tracks an ant grabbing a crumb of his lain down food.

"Sig," she tries again, slowly sitting down next to him. He huffs, flipping over on his side to face her all the way. Despite this, he still doesn't really look at her. She fidgets, trying to figure out what to say, and then settles for, "Are you... Okay...?"

He looks up at her with a look she can't really decipher, and this time she's the one directing her gaze away. "Um. Yeah. I guess that's kind of a dumb question," she laughs nervously. She looks down at him again. "But, um, could I ask what it is? That's bothering you, I mean."

He lets the question permeate a little and then responds, "Why would you tell me to leave you alone if you were just gonna come over n' talk to me yourself."

"So it is that," Amitie mumbles. Sig brings his focus to the grass. Wow. It sure is green, down here.

"Why would that bother you, though?" She asks, and when he stays silent she continues, "I mean, you're all! Bitey, and snappy and bored by everything all the time, and I know I should probably be glad you're not talking to me anymore," she watches his expression change again, and this time she can take a guess at what it is.

Hurt. She cringes at the thought.

She takes a breath and keeps going. "But now you're being all weird about it so what-" she furrows her brows, watching him curl his fingers into a fist and pull out a few blades of grass. "What changed?"

"Nothing," he responds, honestly. "Nothing changed. You just..." His eyes unfocus and his tone goes distant, "You just never want to play with me."

Wah-huh?

"I never what?"

"You never play with me," he repeats. "You act like you might, maybe, but whenever I ask you to you always say no."

"Wait wait wait, back up. Fighting... Is playing to you?"

His attention snaps back to her. "Is it not for you?"

"No! No," Amitie denies, "I mean, Puyo battles are totally normal, but fighting? Why would you want to do that?"

He rolls onto his back, staring up at the sky. "Wanna be close to you."

WAH-HUH x2?

"I want to get to know you," he admits, closing his eyes, "I've never been good at talking. It's easier to understand a fight."

Amitie's not completely sure she really gets that feeling. She doesn't really know how fighting someone would help you understand them better.

"But, I mean, I get it," Sig murmers, keeping his eyes shut. "I get it if you don't wanna be friends with me. Freak, n' all."

"NononoNONONO!" Amitie exclaims, quieting down when Sig looks up at her with a squint. "That's not it. It's not- I don't- I thought you hated me!"

He scowls at her, which very much contradicts his next statement of, "I don't hate you."

She chooses to believe his words, instead of his face. "So, then, you- you were just-!"

She buries her face into her hands and screams. "Ohhhhhh my god. Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

Sig sits up in a lackadaisical manner, but he keeps his attention on her.

"This entire time I thought you were just being a, a uh," she snaps her fingers a few times. "What's a word Arle would use?"

"Asshole."

"An asshole!" She nods. "But that's just how you play? You were trying to play with me? Because you wanted to be friends?!"

He blinks at her. "Yeah," he responds. He sounds irritated, but Amitie chooses to ignore it.

"Ohhhhhh nooooo," she whines, and now she's the one laying on her back. "I'm sorry! Oh my god, and I hurt you! You just wanted to be friends, and I hurt you!"

"'S fine," he mutters, "You didn't know. Sorry for... Not communicating. Or whatever."

Amitie grumbles about how that's probably not a healthy way to form relationships and they should discuss this later. She sits up and gives him an awkward smile. "Can we start over? Please?"

Sig tilts his head at her. "Uh. Sure?"

Her smile brightens and she excitedly throws her hand out. "Hiya! My name's Amitie I heard we were getting a new kid are you the new kid? You look like the new kid I've never seen you before you look super cool is your hair dyed or is it just like that sorry I'm talking so much I should let you go huh so what's your name?"

Wow. Did she seriously memorize that entire run-off? He looks her up and down, then smirks. "Are you the reincarnation of a Claire's?"

She punches his shoulder with a disbelieving laugh and an indignant "Sig!" then responds, "No, but I get my earrings from there!"

Further off, Raffina watches the two laugh with a feeling of relief. Finally, that's one headache removed.

Unfortunately for her she pretty soon realizes that this would merely cause a different headache to later form. But it's better than Amitie complaining about Sig's hot and cold demeanor, and Sig moping about how Amitie, who definitely wants to be friends with him, doesn't want to be friends with him. Honestly, as long as they're not going back to that? Raffina thinks she can deal with this particular headache.

[jesncin]

As a "Billy Batson's a shapeshifter" truther (one of the powers given to him by the wizard is the power of Zeus, who shapeshifts all the time in mythology), I am now imagining your version of Ma'al becoming his mentor

Nobody in the watchtower is safe

he's so great with kids

[dragonbleps]

If Dal was a cat, what kind of cat would he be...?

A sleek lanky shorthair because he's a rogue-type? A luxuriously long-hair because of his, well, long hair that he's vain about? An active breed because he's a busybody who always needs work to do?

hmmm

[theparadoxmachine]

GO - S1 released: I'm in the hospital with meningitis, shingles, a UTI, and have been diagnosed with bursitis, bone spurs, and plantar fasciitis less than a week prior. DT and MS are doing an early morning talk show interview while I'm having the MRI that will show that I have a progressive, congenital neurological defect that will require brain surgery to treat.

GO - S2 is announced: I joke that I hope I'm not in the hospital this time around.

GO - S2: It's worse. The day after the season's release, one of my favorite people in the entire world dies of cancer, a diagnosis they (reasonably, justifiably, and entirely within their right) did not disclose to the public, though to my horror and devastation, I had predicted years prior. I'd go through a hundred lumbar punctures to make this not real.

GO - S3: *gestures vaguely at all that. Also an election year, the results of which could be the end of my country and legal personhood as I know it.*

I'm pretty sure there's a curse in there somewhere. You guys enjoy the movie. I'm going to be getting my affairs in order.

[dandyshucks]

okay its going under a readmore bc its messy and a lot, i'll try to keep it succinct though. CW for some discussion of the ongoing g.enocide and things around that topic

so one of the friends is someone I've really respected and admired because they're a very intelligent well-spoken and kind-hearted individual. i've really been impressed with how they think about things and with their ability to write really fantastic essays (that they often share with this friend group because they're in school and enjoy sharing their work with us because a lot of us are interested in the things they write about). about a year ago, this person went through the process of converting to j.udaism and we were all very excited (and continue to be happy) for them. they've been really happy with the process and the community they've found and it's been really good for them.

however! this person has since stated they are a z.ionist! and they've said that it just means that j.ewish people should live in i.srael, it doesn't mean they support the i.df or what is happening in p.alestine currently. but I'm just... baffled at how they can think that non-p.alestinians occupying the country could EVER be done peacefully. it has ALWAYS been colonization. it was never going to be done in a peaceful manner.

do j.ewish people deserve a safe place to exist? absolutely! but I do not think, ESPECIALLY now, that that safe place can ever be located in p.alestine. I'm not the most educated or well-read individual, I've done a bit of reading over the past few months but my memory is shoddy and I consistently forget almost everything I've read, but as far as I can tell, this has been a non-peaceful occupation (...can occupation ever really be done peacefully in reality? i doubt it.) from the very beginning. p.alestinians were being kicked out of their houses from the start.

and to add onto the messiness of this all, I am the only i.ndigenous person in the entire group. I am the only one coming at this from an i.ndigenous perspective. and because of my perspective, I am ALWAYS going to be on the side of the population that first lived and existed in a place. i am always on the side of l.and back, i am always on the side of the first peoples. anything less would be essentially agreeing with colonization.

so it is just incredibly uncomfortable to be the only i.ndigenous person in this group while the rest of the group has discussed and expressed sympathy with this person for holding self-professed z.ionist beliefs (I do not believe this person has done the right reading to fully understand what they are saying, which is so strange because they are usually so good about educating themself). and I feel like if I try to say anything to argue or simply question this person, I'm going to rock the boat too much and make Everyone uncomfortable and the entire thing will blow up and fall apart around me. so my options seem to be either: a) say something, b) say nothing and stay in the group, or c) say nothing and quietly leave the group. none of which feel like good options!

and it sucks so much because there are people I genuinely do like in this group, and I've liked this one person and respected them since I met them, but they're really .... showing themself to be an unsafe person at the end of the day. I keep feeling like maybe I'm not seeing something or maybe I'm missing something, but I've looked at this from multiple angles and while I do absolutely see where they're coming from and even sympathise with some of it, I disagree with them on a fundamental level.

(also it seems really fucked up for them to be newly converted to j.udaism and endorsing what is essentially colonization and lowkey ignoring the fact that PEOPLE ARE BEING GENOCIDED RIGHT NOW so maybe we should not be discussing "but where are all the j.ewish ppl going to live :(" until the bullets and bombs stop at the very least(????????), while I've been indigenous and dealing with the consequences of attempted (and still ongoing!) genocide and colonization my entire life)

[running-in-the-dark]

over the past few days I've switched from watching lots of cleaning videos (which was good because they made me want to clean - though that effect is still there for now) to sewing videos (which is very very bad because now I want to sew more and get a sewing machine that actually works right (I got mine used for like 50€ and it's very basic and a lot of things just keep breaking/not working (which is probably at least in part because I don't know enough about using it correctly)))

[darkdragon768]

My code cracker "helper"

[homunculus-argument]

If I had more money than I'd ever spend in a lifetime, I'd spend my life operating a pizzeria at a loss. Something with the slogan of "it ain't italian but you're hungry" - and a statement of how this is not authentic italian pizza because the owner's estranged aunt's italian ex-husband would not serve pizza in his italian restaurant because as far as he was concerned, a pizza is the "just throw that shit together" dish that you make out of leftovers, and he would not serve that to paying customers even if they wanted it. True story btw.

But I'd just like to run a place where the staff is allowed to tell rude customers to fuck off. And if they're scared to do that, they can summon me downstairs to do it myself (this fantasy involves having my own apartment upstairs of the restaurant), because you don't fucking disrespect my staff like that. Develop a reputation as a place where You'd Better Act Yourself or you get nothing, which elevates the quality of the food in peoples' minds because it's human to assume that more work=more worth, and if a pizza place can afford to simply throw rude customers out, that clearly must mean that the food is just that good that going back is worth it anyway.

Hiring enough people to get the work done in a leisurely pace and occasionally have the time to chat with each other or customers. You just do the job I gave you in the time I gave you, don't steal anything and don't watch porn off your phone anywhere where the customers can see you, you're good. Don't care if you quit school at 16 if you can still mop floor. Don't care if you've been to prison because you killed some guy, as long as you're not doing that here. Don't care if you deal drugs on your free time as long as you don't bring your business to your day job. This place is exclusively for pizza business.

Have an item on the menu called "random pizza" - and if you order that one, they'll just throw in a mix of whatever ingredients we've got too much of, like if the bell peppers gotta be used before they go bad, every single random pizza is going to have them until they're either gone or need to get tossed. If you've got dietary restrictions or allergies, you gotta specify that while ordering, because other than that, random pizza is just whatever ingredients we need to get rid of. Surplus ingredients du jour.

Building a reputation as a place that's somehow simultaneously sketchy as hell but also remarkably high quality, getting five star restaurant customer service from a waiter with blue hair and stick-n-poke tattoos, there's a homeless guy at the back of the kitchen eating an order that nobody picked up, every surface is spotless and no matter how important of a suit-and-tie you are, if you won't behave yourself the owner will personally physically fight you.

[transmasc-tabris]

More screenshots (bonus, managed to find Bull a shirt and don't know how to feel about that)

[dutybcrne]

@voidlesslove said : I'd love to see Kaeya with the traveler as his mate. They'd immediately clock his scent as Inteyvats and depending on which it is would share theirs with him. (Side note I can totally see the traveler as a beta) 『 Related to this || Accepting 』

YES! 🥹

[ratspider]

woke up from a dream about a family not accepting a trans kid for who they are to a text where my dad deadnames me :I

[bi-writes]

thinking about mob baking simon a cake for his birthday (without his prior knowledge) mm good soup

mail-order bride

"you think he likes chocolate, baby?" you ask the cats. they sit side-by-side at the breakfast counter, being good girls as they sit on their chairs and watch you mix batter. "he totally likes chocolate. big boys like daddy love chocolate, don't they, girls?"

you grease two circular pans, pouring the chocolate cake batter into them. you set them in the oven before getting to work on your chocolate buttercream. you're using the new mixer simon bought you--it's beautiful, stainless steel, heavy. when you saw in the store a few weeks ago, you gushed at it, telling simon you saw someone make cinnamon rolls, bread, cakes, all in this mixer, but when your eyes skimmed over the price, you said nothing more, just smiled up at simon and let him lead you over to where the cast iron pans were (you wanted a real one).

a few weeks later, you noticed it on the kitchen counter. sparkling silver, right there, with the whisk attachment on it just waiting for you. and in the cupboard, ingredients--bread flour, powdered sugar, cornmeal, corn starch, dutch process, baking chocolate, whole wheat flour--all for you to play with. and when you baked him the most decadent triple chocolate coffee cake he had ever had, he bent you over the same table his empty plate sat and ate your cunt out with your apron still on. when you kissed him afterwards, he still tasted like chocolate.

you turn off the mixer, reaching in with a spoon to lick the buttercream off of it. you hum with delight, setting it aside, and when the oven timer dings, you pull the cakes out to let them cool.

you wrap simon's present as everything settles. special order, a favor you called into johnny. it's in a nice wooden box, and you tie a big red bow on it, and when you go back into the kitchen, you level and stack the two pieces of cake between buttercream and use a spoon to make a fancy decoration over the top of it.

the front door sounds as you're putting the finishing touches on the cake. you can hear him coming closer, and you gasp.

"no, no, no, don't come in the kitchen yet!"

"wot?"

"just--wait a little bit in the living room, okay?"

"for wot?"

"simon--" you groan. "please? for me?"

you don't hear anything after that except for the tv turning on. when you finish putting the last candles on the cake, you light them, picking up the plate and coming into the living room.

simon looks surprised. he was concentrating hard on the tv, watching the game, but his face relaxes when he sees you holding the cake. the cats perk up from where they're laid down beside him, and their ears flit as you start to sing happy birthday.

his whole face twitches. he stiffens, his palms flat on his thighs as he grips them tight. you set down the cake on the coffee table in front of him, candles glowing as you take a seat next to him. he's still staring at the cake as you finish the song.

"happy birthday, dear simon...happy birthday to you."

you smile at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, squeezing it gently. you kiss his shoulder before motioning to the cake.

"you can blow them out now, simon," you say softly. "make a wish."

he doesn't move. he stares straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the flickering candles. you reach down and take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and hugging his arm. you sit with him quietly, looking at the cake with him, and after a minute or so, you turn back at him.

"simon?" you whisper.

he's crying. you put a hand on the back of his head, scratching his short hair, and you cup his face gently as you wipe his tears. he's silent. the tears come, but he still doesn't move, still won't meet your eyes. you smile, going over to pick up the cake, and you hold it in front of him.

"here...make a wish, simon," you say softly. he picks up his sleeve and wipes his face, leaning over to blow out the candles. you put down the cake, standing up to go get his gift sitting on the kitchen table. when you sit down next to him again, he's still staring at the cake, still trying to pretend his face isn't wet with tears, but he stops wiping them when you place the box in his lap.

he unravels the bow. when he opens the case, he lets out a little chuckle, smoothing his hand over the foam inside.

there are an array of throwing knives laid before him. perfectly crafted, in different shapes and sizes, and when he picks one up and twirls it around between his fingers, the weight of them and the ease at which they move tells him you only picked out the finest quality. they're beautiful, and it's a thoughtful gift, and when he closes the lid on the box, he still can't meet your eyes.

"i'll cut us some cake," you say softly. you busy yourself getting plates and a cake knife from the kitchen, cutting generous slices before handing him one of the plates. he picks up the fork, and when you notice his hand shakes, you take the plate back from him gently and scoop a bite onto the fork for him. you don't say anything, just hold it up to his mouth, and once he takes a bite, you set the plate down and watch as he chews.

when he swallows, you sit again in silence. you reach over and take simon's hands in your own, squeezing them gently before bringing them up to your mouth to kiss softly. when he finally looks at you, all you do is smile.

he hadn't even remembered it was birthday. he never told you when it was, but he supposes you must have been curious enough to look for yourself. he can't remember the last time someone made him cake. he can't remember when he last received a gift, especially one like this. he doesn't know when he last thought himself happy enough to celebrate anything at all, but there is no other way he would've wanted today to go.

joy. you bring uninhibited, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. the way you're smiling at him--he can already see you in the kitchen in that apron, baking this cake, talking to no one but the cats as you carefully decorate it. the way you're looking at him--he knows you dreamed about this all week, scheduling the day so you could have the cake done as soon as he got home.

and chocolate. his favorite. decadent, sweet chocolate--it's still under his tongue, and he wants another bite already, he cannot wait to devour the slice that waits for him on the table.

"happy birthday, simon," you whisper, and when you lean in to hug him, he cradles the back of your head, tangling a hand into your hair as he presses you to his chest. "i love you."

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck--

"love you, too, baby."

"what did you wish for?" you mumble into his shoulder. simon snorts a little, shaking his head.

"if i tell ya, it won't come true."

"oh, yeah," you giggle. "keep your secrets then."

he doesn't want more; the only thing he wishes for is more time. more time with you. as much as he can get. to live long enough that he gets to see your face for as long as possible.

that whatever he sees for the last time will be you and you only.

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — capitano loves teaching his darling how it feels to receive pleasure by a real man <3

warnings — inexperienced reader & naive ?? reader, petnames used: good girl, size kink/size difference, age gap ? (he's mentioned as being older), fem! reader <3

the thought of capitano teaching you about pleasure and passion was unbelievably hot to the point where you couldn't wait for it to happen again and again.

yes, he's older and more experienced than you, so of course you believe whatever he tells you and certainly won't question all of the depraved things he'd ask you to do, the harbinger obviously know better than you do, correct? these thoughts never failed to echo in your mind as you found herself alone with capitano, the strongest and mysterious harbinger whose very presence sent your mind in a daze.

he towers above your smaller frame with his dark eyes piercing through the dim light of the room, the silent command in his gaze strong enough to send an entire army to its defeat.

you couldn't lie to yourself, especially not when it came to him— and you felt a thrilling mix of fear and anticipation as he sank inside for the first time, making your pretty mouth part with a high gasp as he pressed himself through your tiny hole— first his thick tip splitting you open, then his inches rubbing through you, his movements deliberate and controlled yet never too much where it could hurt you.

although before he proceeds, his scarred hand reaches out to your face, gently tilting your chin up to meet his focused eyes.

"you must trust me, you're aware of that, correct?" capitano's deep voice resonates through you, each word a promise of what was about to come as he begins to thrust into you gently, his next following words accompanied by deep grunts and groans, "only then i will teach you on how to receive the pleasure only i can give you."

you nod immediately, eager to feel more, your heart pounding in your chest as his experience in the bedroom was certainly undeniable— not only that but it was sexy, hot as the flames of a pyro user as the authority in his voice made you ache to comply, to please him too with all you can.

the rush of excitement at the prospect of being guided by someone who knew exactly what he was doing was enthralling as your body showed him such, and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd notice just how hard and messily you're squeezing him right now, your pussy drooling and messing him up until he knows he's yours.

his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "wrap your legs around me," and begins to instruct, his voice a low growl that made your back arch up immediately.

without hesitation you obey, your legs encircling his broad waist as the closeness was beginning to turn intoxicating, feeling like minutes before you could feel true solace as you felt the strength of his body pressing against yours the more he'd add on speed and strength.

"good girl, very good," he murmurs proudly, his breath hot against your skin as one of his hands slowly slide down your sweat covered stomach before reaching your clit, "now, relax, alright? let me show you how to feel every touch, every sensation of me,"

his hand moves with practiced ease on your clit as he pinches it, tugs and teased it, rubbing over the pearl and igniting a trail of fire wherever he applied pressure the most as your body was responding to his every touch, your senses heightened by the sheer dominance he exuded.

"focus on my touch," he commands softly, your hips curving upwards so that you'd be able to get his cock to sink even further inside of you.

"feel how your body responds to me,"

capitano fucks you with purpose, tugging your hips deeper onto his cock with every grind as your legs begin to shake, the blur in your eyes making it difficult for you to see anything more than his panting demeanor— not only that but his cock was huge, splitting you apart like he's meant to do that, as if there was nothing more than this moment in your life which was deemed important.

the warmth of his drags against your walls pooled into your veins and flesh as his cock fucks and fucks and lets you squeeze his inches in and out until you end up hiccuping of being so full and satiated, almost feeling stupid as he sent currents of electricity straight to your core.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[uzurakis]

hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni Enemies to lovers with some massage therapist Bucky. Breeding kinnk, aftercare, Bucky is a secret softie, all that.

Imagine Rival Biker Bucky x f reader. A smutty, slutty little concept while I add the finishing touches to another fic, just getting this out of my system first. I just love the idea of a sexy, bad boy Bucky getting his hands on the one girl who won't give him a second glance because she's too good for him and they're from opposite worlds. Since childhood. Now he's a biker. Covered in black ink. He works in an auto shop. Owns the bar that brings in chaos. He's smoke, whiskey and leather.

She, however, is soft, pretty, smart and does not have the time to entertain someone like him. She has her degree. Working on a second. She has a career. She does not associate with the likes of him, not as the police chiefs daughter. She'll be damned if she has to even breathe the same air, especially when his gang is the cause for half the problems in the town that her father has been trying to get rid of.

Now, imagine that hours of working on her notes and papers leave her with unbearable knots and kninks in her back. She doesn't want to take a break but the pain only gets worse as the week goes by. It doesn't take long for her to shoot her regular massage therapist a message to book the very first available appointment.

-

You unclasped your bra, folding and setting it off to the side while waiting for Wanda in the warmly lit room. You could have sworn she was a witch with the way she made pain disappear; she’d also become a good friend after your many visits.

The knock at the door interrupted you as you slid your shorts off, leaving you in your panties, not rushing to jump onto the table considering it was just Wanda anyway.

“Come in!” You smiled, making your way to the massage bed as the door clicked open- “Oh my God!!” You nearly shrieked seeing Bucky walk in, a shit eating from spreading across his face as you scrambled to grab the tiny towel to cover yourself though it was a futile attempt. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

"You have an appointment, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow as if it was clear as day why he was there.

"Yeah, with Wanda, why are you here, did you get lost on the way to jail?" Your face scrunched in a mix of confusion and disgust ignoring the roll of his eyes while you snatched your shirt to better cover up.

"Well Wanda couldn't make it in but she sent me" He said with a shrug, sighing when he saw your less than impressed face, "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just training under her as part of my physiotherapy internship"

"I'm sorry, you're trying to tell me you of all people are learning how to give massages? Please"

"Physiotherapy" Bucky corrected, "You're not the only one who has a degree, princess" Bucky watched as you groaned realizing you hadn't put your bra on, opting to stuff it in your bag instead of putting it back on in front of him.

"You are NOT laying a finger on me-ow!" You hissed, feeling the knot in your back tug at the rest of your muscles.

"You're not gonna be able to do a whole lot with that much pain" Bucky smirked, only half joking. He wasn't wrong. The pain was worse than before and you needed this an you really didn't have the time to reschedule.

"Fine" You mumbled, turning away from him so you could take your shirt off again, glaring at him when you noticed he hadn't turned away. "Could you at least give me some privacy instead of lurking in the corner like a pervert"

"Whatever you want, princess" He bit his lip as he faced the wall, hearing your feet pad across the tile to lay down on the massage table.

"Alright" You huffed after covering your lower body with the towel, now laying face down, immediately second guessing yourself as he walked over.

"Let me know if anything's uncomfortable or if you want me to stop" His voice was no longer snarky; in fact he sounded professional. "Where do you feel the most tension?"

"Um-shoulders and-lower back" You mumbled out the last bit, he was going to massage you there anyway so there so no pointed hiding it. You tensed at the feeling of his oiled fingers starting to work at your muscles, he had no right to be that good. At all.

“Shit” you hissed trying to keep your voice down, ignoring the clench of your stomach feeling his rough fingers press down on the areas that were tight. Little did you know Bucky was struggling far more than you were.

It went against every bit of professionalism he had. Every moan you tried to silence went right to his cock, his hands making their way lower before trailing up again. Fuck, you sounded so pretty...

"Better stop making those sounds"

"Or what" You challenged back before you could even stop yourself.

"Princess..."

"Your attitude is what needs fixing" Bucky growled, professionalism be damned, "fuck this"

-

You have no idea how you ended up here. It didn't matter though, not when there wasn't a single cohesive thought in your brain as you wailed letting Bucky absolutely rail you. Your back didn't feel an ounce of pain as he took you on all fours, pulling your hips to slam back against him, gripping your ass with enough strength to leave you sore.

"Feel better now huh baby, not trying to stay quiet anymore, are ya" He let out a low chuckle which melted into a groan feeling you tighten on his dick, "Such a good little princess like you letting me put my dick in you, dirty girl"

You hate to admit it but the clench of your cunt betrays how much you love this. It was so wrong. You had no business fucking someone like him and yet where you were letting his precum paint all over the inside of your walls.

"What would your daddy say princess, if he knew where you were right now, what you were doin'? Thinking you're studying when you're actually all pretty and naked, letting me rub that gorgeous body up and down, bet you'd let me put my cum in you too, huh? Bet your dad would love that, his perfect little girl all knocked up with some bikers baby"

You could have said no, stayed silence, just about anything but nope. You screamed feeling his fingers reach around the massage your clit, your orgasm wasting no time hurling towards you.

"Ja-Ja-JAMESSS"

"MMMPHH I love the sound of that baby, could get used to hearing you sayin' my name, say it again princess, say my name with my cock in you, c'mon, that's it"

"Fuck-James-I-James" You were a mess and loving every bit of it, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, all the pent up stress you were feeling finally releasing. You felt your throat tighten, a sob escaping your lips as you let go, your arousal making a creamy mess on the dark curly hair on the base of his cock.

"God, you're milkin me, you want my cum that bad huh baby, want a little biker baby in that tummy of yours, I'll give it to you, give you so much I might even put twins in there-FUCKK"

-

"Shhhh" Bucky cooed, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel while cuddling up your limp body, wiping away any remnants of tears while you stayed floating in a subby, post sex haze. "I got you, you did so good princess" You only manage to let out a weak whimper, giving into his warm, thick arms that rock you.

"You alright angel?"

"Mph" you mumble against his chest and he reaches over for a glass of water that's nearby, bringing it up for you to take a sip. You're surprised at how sweet he's being, drinking up before snuggling into him again. Damn him for being so warm and comfy.

"Y'know, there might be a little Bucky in there" He whispers with a playful smirk in his voice, fingers tickling your lower belly, chuckling when you narrow your eyes at him.

"You wish" You sass back, ignoring the butterflies you feel.

"I do" He admits, biting his lip, his previous cocky demeanor replaced with a shy one, though he tries to mask it. Poorly. His cheeks are pinker than the time you threw paint on him for pulling your pigtails. When you were both 4. "I'd want Bucky jr. to have your brains though"

Imagine that incident sets off a very interesting chain of events. A confession of feelings. You both couldn't be happier, meanwhile your father is grumbling about how he knew this fuckin' day would come, God damn it.

"I never liked that boy" He struggles to keep a scowl on his face watching you giggle like you were 4 again, running to the door as soon as you hear the rumble of his bike.

"Shut up, you love him" Your mom chides, watching Bucky swoop you up for a loving kiss, heading you a bouquet of yellow flowers as he always does.

-

"I still don't like 'em" Your dad says while you roll your eyes, your arm linked with his as he walks you down the aisle.

"Is that why all the files you had to build a case against him all suddenly went missing?" You tease and your dad shugs.

"Wasn't me"

-

just an idea.