#if you got so much spare time do something productive and explain to me how math works

[andr0nap]

very problematic to ship vash and wolfwood. wolfwood is like 12 and vash is 150+ years old. gross. its giving pedo fantasy!

congrats anon on being the first one to send me hate! i hope it makes you feel as warm and fuzzy inside as it does for me 🥺👉👈❤️��🔥

to celebrate this very important milestone i have drawn vashwood making out sloppy style just for u

[kaiserposting]

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 0.9k TYPE: Meet-ugly (community service 💀), Crackfic WARNING(S): None? Dick jokes ?

There is a pair of shears in your hands and an ugly man to your left.

Actually, he’s not that unfortunate looking, but he seems like he should know better than whatever that excuse of a hairstyle is supposed to be.

You snip away at your government-assigned bush little by little while humming and stroking your chin in fake artisan appreciation, eyes darting between him and the shrub. Though you’re supposed to be working on this together, he hasn’t been doing much aside from pretending to prune whenever the supervisor passes by.

“Do you think I could shape it into a penis?” you ask, flicking a leaf with your finger.

The guy spares you one hateful glance before he crosses his arms, perhaps to signal that this is your battle to fight alone.

“I know they want them to be squares, but I’m into abstract art. Like really into it,” you say, lying.

He doesn’t respond.

You cut a dead branch and throw it at him, which prompts him to evaluate you like one might examine a particularly watery piece of shit out on the street. “So what’re you in for?”

“I’ve been ignoring you for fifteen minutes,” he snaps, picking up the specific stick you tossed at him from the ground and aiming for your eye when he returns the favor, possibly trying to blind you. You dodge with a smile of mild contentment. “Stop talking.”

“I imagined you to be the kinda pedantic asshole who’d argue that maybe penises aren’t abstract, or about how technically we’re not in jail, so I shouldn’t act like we are.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you imagined,” he says before ripping out another dead branch with his bare hands (even though he also has gardening scissors like you do), immediately ruining the minimal progress you’ve made. “And you’re doing this way too slow.”

You nod, not bothering to inform him of how unhelpful he has been in this endeavor. Not that it matters. You’re not here to be productive. You just have a set of hours you need to fill out.

After a short while of mundane passivity, he realizes your chatter, while irritating, at least provided something to stimulate his mind, meaning an excuse to be annoyed. He says, “I got a parking ticket.”

“Really? Community service just for one parking ticket?”

“... I got sixty parking tickets.”

“Well, sounds to me like your parking is more in the style of post-impressionism than realism, but what do I know, I’m not a doctor.”

He ignores the twine of bullshit you just strung together, asserting himself above the usual game you fall into with people where they run around in circles riling themselves up trying to explain to you that you are talking nonsense. Instead he takes it in like it is natural and asks, “And what did you do?”

“Fraud,” you say, lying a second time. In reality you tried to shoplift a mop, although apparently both you and the item were not as inconspicuous as you believed.

“Since when do they give community service for fraud?”

“Hey,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, “it was a small-time fraud.”

“Yeah, whatever that means.”

“It means I ball like Milken,” you say.

“I don’t know who that is.”

You feel generous enough to elaborate, “Michael Milken.”

“That wasn’t an invitation for you to keep talking,” he rolls his eyes with the attitude of an invisible camera capturing his expression and turning him into a gif for people who describe themselves as ‘sassy’ to use, “nor is it helpful to anyone who doesn’t concern themselves with trivia about American scammers.” The way he says the word ‘American’ makes it sound like some kind of malaise.

“What do you concern yourself with, then? What’s your name?”

“That’s cute, but you don’t need to pretend you don’t know who I am.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together and wrinkle your forehead in an ugly manner as you struggle to conceive of what he’s on about. “Know you? Have we met before? I admit I went to that lame piano bar once, but I don’t remember anyone from there.”

“Do I look like you met me at a fucking piano bar?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Michael Kaiser.” There is a cadence of importance in his tone, so maybe he thinks his name means anything to you, which it doesn’t.

“Mike Kaiser.”

“No, not like Milken. You know how. You heard me say it.”

You turn around to go back to your gardening, deciding to work on your penis shrub project. Of course, it’s not coming out successful — there is not even a hint of a phallic shape, but even so, you must persevere.

This ‘Michael Kaiser’ watches you for a while. “You really don’t know who I am.”

“No, Mikey.”

“You’re fucking irritating,” he says. After some consideration, he adds, “Give me your number. We should go out sometime.”

“Maybe,” you agree noncommittally.

“Alright. Here’s what you’re gonna do. If you can come up with a way for us to get off community service early, I’ll give you my number,” Kaiser tells you, acting like you’re the one who came up with the idea of you two seeing each other again, or as if you’re begging to go out with him on a date.

It is very audacious. He’s standing there with a smug smirk on his face, arms still crossed. You think something’s wrong with him.

Either you’re falling in love or his display of unmedicated mental illness is arousing you because you’re suddenly feeling compelled by his advances out of nowhere, but one thing is for sure:

You’ll never really be able to trim the shrub into a penis.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

birthday countdown 2024, day 1: post-clash snippet

we are officially one day out from birthday! 🎉 it seems fitting to offer up a snippet related to my first one piece fic, clash of the four emperors—though, yes, that does mean i’ve written an epilogue to an epilogue here. what can i say, people in the comments on things to do in sabaody seemed interested in the further adventures of semi-retired shuggy, so i thought i’d try to indulge them! (and myself, lbh.) so, today i have for you some real grade a buggy pov sap, but you should be expecting that if you’ve read the above fics:

Shanks kept giving Buggy rings that didn’t meet his standards. It was always done apologetically—“Sorry, Buggy, I know this one isn’t nearly flashy enough,” or “I know, I know, it doesn’t have any diamonds…”—but he still did it!  Wasting Buggy’s time with subpar product! Eventually—once he’d been given enough almost perfect rings for every finger, with two more spare—Buggy got fed up. “If you want something done right…” he grumbled, and on the next island wealthy enough to warrant a full jeweler’s workshop, he bartered and bargained his way into getting access to a workbench, normally set aside for apprentice work.  It was easy enough to do, when he promised the owner first dibs on the scraps.

(600 words below the cut)

Shanks kept giving Buggy rings that didn’t meet his standards.

It was always done apologetically—“Sorry, Buggy, I know this one isn’t nearly flashy enough,” or “I know, I know, it doesn’t have any diamonds…”—but he still did it!  Wasting Buggy’s time with subpar product!

Eventually—once he’d been given enough almost perfect rings for every finger, with two more spare—Buggy got fed up.

“If you want something done right…” he grumbled, and on the next island wealthy enough to warrant a full jeweler’s workshop, he bartered and bargained his way into getting access to a workbench, normally set aside for apprentice work.  It was easy enough to do, when he promised the owner first dibs on the scraps.  Combining material from a dozen rings into one masterpiece of the form took an age, but Shanks didn’t question it when Buggy insisted they linger on this island a week longer than planned, then two.

When they hit the third week of postponing their travels, though, and Buggy was returning to Shanks most nights with a storm cloud brewing overhead, Shanks became a little concerned.

“I’m not telling you to stop, if you’re having fun,” he told Buggy, “but if you’re just fiddling with little details to draw things out… maybe it’s time to call it done, and move on?  To another project or another island, I don’t really care which.”

Buggy resented being told what to do, however nicely… but of course, Shanks was right.  The precise angle of the position of the accent diamonds didn’t really matter as much as the amount of time he’d spent on it would suggest, and before he sold the leftover metal and gemstones to the jeweler there was one more project he wanted to tackle.

And so, the three week delay became four, but Buggy was smiling and humming industriously to himself whenever he returned to Shanks, so Shanks had no complaints.

At the end of the month, Buggy presented Shanks with the fruits of his labor, and Shanks had nothing but good things to say.  He made all the right impressed sounds at the craftsmanship of the ring, complimented the way it sparkled in any lighting, admired how nice it looked on Buggy’s hand.  Shanks always knew the right words to say, in moments that weren’t all that important.

Then Buggy pulled out his second project, and Shanks was gratifyingly speechless.

“I went with a flush setting, so the ring shouldn’t ever snag on your clothes, and the stones won’t pop out if you get all noble and interfere in bar fights like you used to,” Buggy explained.  “And since you don’t care half as much as me about treasure, I kept the design minimal, as boring as I think that looks. Just the two stones, and an engraving on the inside.”

Shanks immediately stopped staring at the stones—a ruby and a sapphire, side by side, obviously—to tilt the ring so he could read the engraving.  Buggy flushed—it had been a spur of the moment decision, and an uncharacteristically sappy one at that, but he was pretty sure Shanks would like it.

Shanks let out a soft, wondering laugh.  “You really can’t just say what you’re thinking, can you?” he said, a hint of tears in his eyes.

Ha! Buggy, triumphant, said, “You like it, then?”

“I love it.  I love you.”  Shanks kissed him softly, tenderly, in a way Buggy was surprised to find left him breathless. (Or maybe that was more to do with the words he’d just said, ones Buggy had thought them too old and worn-down for.) He held out the ring—silently asking Buggy to put it on him, he realized.  “Please, please marry me?”

Buggy slid the ring on his hand, smirking.  “Stupid.  Didn’t I just ask you?”

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

Here we are, it's finally monday and we can hope again in having a good, productive week (please let it be a sunny one too I can't hibernate in April I need my photosynthesis).

I'm wondering what do you think of this little work of mine, so if you feel like it you can write me whatever comment/question/any various and possible magical shit.

Have a good chocolaty day ⁓

DISCLAIMERS: little bit of touching and hints about sub/dom relationship! Finally my kinks are emerging! (evil laugh); Ghost-who-needs-to-make-peace-with-his-brain x Reader-who-needs-to-learn-how-to-shut-up; "How to be a psychologist without a degree" (by John Price); embarassing mission I hope does not exist in reality, but i needed it for plot's sake; little bit of wounds and scars (Doc.'s gonna tie you and Ghost up to a chair for the rest of your life); yelling and fighting and arguing (you're used to it by now).

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Fourth part here:

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«Why the hell you've let her-»

«MacTavish»

Price swallows through the smoked breath, clenching his fingers around the consumed cigar just to distract himself from the willingness to punch a wall, or the Sergeant's face.

«I've already had Ghost yelling at me for half an hour. Spare me»

«Then explain yourself, Cap.»

«I can't. I've no explanation. She'd done it by herself»

«She's no insubordinate»

«Not in that sense». He sighs. «I told her no. I knew it was too much for a rookie». He chews the extinguished cigar for a while, taking his time. «Laswell agreed. But that goddamn girl managed to convince Kate, somehow»

«How come?»

«Dunno. But she's already feeling bad enough, and she was the one who's got to rescue the girl»

«Laswell?? Ye serious?»

Price nods, eyes locked at the door in front of them. The doc entered almost one hour ago.

«And» Soap dares to ask «is Laswell…uhm…»

«She's ok» the Captain anticipates him. «Nothing broken. But the rookie…». He sighs again, scratching the bridge of his nose, pushing lightly his digits on the eyes. «I don't like soldiers wasting their lives like this. Especially good ones»

«The mission had to be done anyway»

«We could have waited for a better plan»  

He takes a last chew on the cigar, spitting it on his glove before squeezing the leftover crumbles in his fist. He throws everything in a trashcan, then gazes at Soap.

«We've got shit to do, Sergeant. We'll come to check her later»

«They've done something bad to her». That wasn't really a question, even if Soap hopes to be wrong. «Am i right?»

«What came up in that bloody lil' head of yours?»

Three gunshots in your arm (the right one, 'cause luck kicks you in the ass as always), one blade wound and various bruises, just to complete the masterpiece. Doc sent you out of the bed with a promise: to try to not touch the medications.

One in particular.

You didn't even want to eat, but you need to. So breakfast has started, with chocolate scent, closed stomach and two pairs of gaze on your red face. You've tried to avoid contact with every human being in the base, but someone's got a good sense of smell for you. And you eventually end up with Soap and Gaz surrounding you with their (legitimate) questions.

You're blushing like hell, stirring oatmeal crumble in the mug with your eyes drowning into it.

«…I've thought…i could be helpful»

«You're a brave kid, but that was-»

«Stupid» Soap ends the sentence. «To say the least». He finishes his coffee in a sip, swallowing the hot liquid in a rush. «It wasn't a rookie's work, ye should've known» 

You nod in embarrassment. «I did know»

«Then why?»

«'Cause…» you swallow, burying your eyes more into the mug, scratching the cuticles skin out of the nails. «…a girl was required. For the mission»

«Hold on» Gaz grabs your shoulder, lowering his voice. It was a confidential subject, not the one to speak about in a crowded dining room. But he keeps on with his curiosity anyway. «It was about weapons traffic, wasn't it?»

You nod.

«Then why a girl?»

You're about to answer, your mouth's already open even if you're not sure if filling them with a temporary lie, or just spit the truth.

Another sudden press on your shoulder takes you off from every doubt.

A big hand grabs you firmly, squeezing skin and bones underneath your uniform. Your body instantly shivers, tightening under the hold. You raise your head a little, but you know whose mask you're gonna jump into.

Ghost has the magical power to bring back the silence. He doesn't even have to speak, just a glare of his is enough. His look hits Soap and Gaz as to say: shut your bloody mouth; and they just roll their eyes at the ceiling, as to say: but we wanna know 'bout her mission, damn it.

Then he lowers on you just that tiny bit that's needed to let you feel his body heat closer, so warm against your cold limbs.

«Your presence is required» he says quickly, almost murmuring against your ear.

And here you are, walking behind his massive figure with eyes lowered on the ground, following his feet at a security distance through the base. He stops a couple of times to talk with someone, moments in which you play camouflaging with the wall; then you two reach a door, and you're so into not-seeing in front of you that you don't even look at where you are. 

He closes the door behind you, and only after a few seconds of embarrassment you find the bravery to mumbling:

«W-who required me?»

«I do»

Your heart skips a beat before your ears could collect his voice and your synapsis could elaborate its meaning. That's when you suddenly raise your sight, finding him clinging on the desk while looking at you through the mask, and even if you can't see his face it's pretty clear that he's judging you. You can read it on the skull, as there's an imaginary -but very perceptible-  neon writing saying: You're a bloody stupid gnome.

Voice escape through your lips automatically: «I'm sorry»

«'Bout what?» he kinda calls you out, pressing with his sternness on your pathetic whimpers.    

Your eyes lower again.

«…causing trouble-»

«Just that?»

You nod. You don't wanna talk about what kinda trouble; but he does.

«Take off your shirt»

Your brain flashes a sudden error signal, allowing you to shiver and wrap your arms tight around yourself. 

«…sir?»

Stupid question. You know why he's asking, the goddamn doctor had probably told him.

«Your shirt» he repeats, not moving from his place.

Two days ago, you would have started a war about this, yelling at him without regrets, brave enough to fight against your superior like two children between one small bucket. 

Not now. Now you just stand in your special spot in the office, allowing your body to move just what is needed to breathe, eyes locked on the floor. You feel him growing impatient, sighing through the mask as you're disappointing him.

«'K. If that's so…»

The sentence remains hanging in the air, and in a matter of seconds, without getting aware of how fast he came toward you, his hands are on your shoulder. You instantly panic but you're too small to fight against his weight that's pushing you against the door, pinning you still with an hand on your breastbone while the other runs to your shirt's hem.

You grab his wrist in a stupid attempt at stopping him, but he lifts the shirt up in one movement, revealing bruises, a bloody bandage, and…a little scar slightly under the belly button, fresh from the oven and still shiny from some medical gel: the writing made out of fire burns on your skin in an elegant gothic style. 

He stares at it, contemplating that swallowed piece of tattooed skin. Your face becomes so red you could spontaneously combust in this exact moment.

«Who made it?» he burst out, whispering harsh words.

You swallow hot air, digging your dry throat and hoping that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth will be the most sensible as possible.

«It's…it…traffic wasn't just 'bout weapons»

«Humans» he talks over immediately. 

You nod your head, specifying with a swallow: «women» 

«You've sneak in as a good to be sold»

«There was no other way to-»

«And they've marked you» his voice's not that high, but you're whispering enough to make it easy for him to have the upper hand on you. You become quiet, avoiding his sight, with your hands still wrapped around his wrist.

«Are you proud?»

The question wasn't expected, spitted roughly through his mouth. You clench your digits, digging in his gloves.

Then you nodd.

«Yes» the answer is a breath, warmth by your boldness and the consciousness that you've done what had to be done. And none would have taken that awareness from you. You eventually lift your sight a little, meeting his mask, letting the skull shape fill your eyes.

«Yes, I am»

You know he's looking at you as if he's got an idiot under his sight. You feel him judging, investigating your behavior, interrogating your posture. And you, trapped between a scary giant and a door, with his cold glove pressed where your belly still hurts, you dare to stare at him for one whole minute.

It seems enough: he lets you go, shaking your hands away from his wrists as he stands in all of his height against you.

«Good soldiers come home alive, little gnome»

«…it's a curious scolding from one who lives a dangerous life»

«I've already told ya: you don't know me»

«But i'm neither deaf nor blind»

«Buy a bloody mirror then». He takes two steps back, letting you breathe freely for the first time since you've entered the room. «Ya can say you see us clear, but speaking of seeing yourself…I can't say the same»

«I know me»   

«It seems not»

Blood starts to rush to your brain as the embarrassment turns into a mixed spoonful of anger and bitterness. You follow him, still at security distance, toward his desk. «Why? 'Cause you've caught me touching myself once and I made one bloody moan?»

«'S not that, and we've already talked enough 'bout it» he mumbled, pretending to not pay attention as he looks through some documents on the table.

«Oh, oh sure! Now we've talked enough about it» your arms end up crossing on your chest. «after you've ripped my elbow»

«It was just a nerve»

«Judicially irrelevant» 

«Shut your bloody mouth»

«Why? 'Cause you've told me s-»

«Yes»

You freeze; that was a cold, hard stone order. He's got his knuckles clenched on the table, his back's muscles are visibly breathing under the pressure of maintaining a glint of calm. 

«You» he turns at you, pointing a finger at your freezed face «you are a goddamn idiot, one of the worst species. I've tried to convince myself you weren't actually so stupid but, damn god, was i right in the first place»

Guilt assaults you with a knife at your throat, for reasons you don't know. And you find your eyes lower, your spirit evaporated, your anger extinguished under his glare. You try to mutter:

«I've just done my duty-»

«You threw away your life»

«The mission had to be done, that was our last possibility to catch that damn illegal traffic» you rush, raising your voice to grow some confidence in your speech «Laswell needed a woman and i just did my damn work!»

And he almost barks back, raising stern and furious eyes at you: «than what 'bout asking someone more experienced, you bloody asshole?!»

«'Cause it was needed a woman with-!». You suddenly stop, biting your inner cheek as a last word slips, almost like a whisper, through your lips: «…inclinations»

He's left speechless for a while, standing in front of you with the finger still hanging toward your figure. You swallow; you know he's going to ask more, and that's just 'cause you can't keep your mouth shut.

As if you've called it, he spit out a terse: «Explain»

You sigh. This would be a great time to sink ten meters underground.

«I» you start gesticulating, drawing figures in the air with your hands «I am…i-»

You expect him to joke about your incapability of connecting two words together; but he remains silent, looking at you almost with curiosity. And you're forced to keep on talking.

«…I like certain things people don't usually…agree to do» you force words outside your mouth, with cheeks on fire and eyes buried on the pavement.

His conclusion wastes no time to come:

«You're a submissive»

It's not a question, it's a truth and it hits you like a brick in the face, as if he'd already understood your particular nature till the beginning. There's no need for more explanation: you know what kind of submissive he's referring to, and he evidently knows just enough about the subject to grin, just a little, under the mask.

«The target was known for his…peculiar sexual tastes». The additional clarification was not necessary, but he gives it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle, almost like he's having fun thinking about it. «I can't believe that Laswell really rely on this stupid trick»

You would really clarify how much Laswell fought against your will to volunteer for that risk, but your voice is gone under the embarrassment. Your digits are digging into cuticles again, and you're about to pretend to not exist, turn your heels and just go away.

And you don't even notice he's got closer again, till he forces your face up by roughly grabbing your cheeks in one hand. 

The disappointment is palpable.

«You've run into that perv's den alone, risking yourself for a mission you knew you couldn't handle…just to satisfy your throbbing cunt?»

That hit you worse than every other thing he's thrown at you till now. Your cheeks catch fire in his hands, guilt choke air in your lungs and poisonous butterflies eat your stomach, whispering through the entrails: he's right.

But you don't want him to be right.

«I've just decided to put every weapon I've got at your service» you spit out.

His grip gets tighter. «Sure thing. And what have you gained? Apart of a saving operation that wasted everyone's time, of course»

«Mission was completed»

«We would have found another way to do it, rookie»

«But I did it» you grab his wrist, trying again to escape from his hold. «And i'm alive, so why the hell are we even talking about-»

It happens all of a sudden: he pushes you again against the door, harder and roughly enough to make your spine squeak on it. You hold a yell, and one second after you can't breathe anymore.

He holds you by your mouth, pushing on your face with his whole hand open, while the other runs down right under your belly, squeezing on your crotch like it's made of play dough.

«This is no playfield». His voice is almost a growl murmur in your ear as he lowers enough to overcome you with his bigger body. «Soldiers have morals. And dignity. Maybe 's not clear to your pretty little brain. So: watch» and he speaks slowly, growling coldness with tongue maid of sharp metal, his eyes on you with that goddamn mask supply (and you're sure you're gonna dream about his sight forever) «your. Bloody. Mouth. Kitty» 

The nickname, the grip on your pants, the fact that you're breaking your personal apnea record…just burn your brain. And, in a loss of breath, trying so desperately to find a way out of that embarrassment while freezing your hormones that are already running too low on your body…

You bite him.

You sink your teeth in his glove as hard as you can, ripping off that goddamn dignity he was speaking about, letting the residual rage work as a fuel for your mouth. He suddenly jerks with a step back, catched by surprise, tearing his hands away, and to do so…he pushes with the other hand on your lower belly.

On your goddamn freshly engraved and barely healed tattoo.

On the scar the doc pleaded with you not to touch.

You spit his glove out of your mouth, yelling like your vocal chords have turn into a megaphone.

Ten minutes later, you two are waiting outside of the infirmary.

The knock on the door doesn't distract him, too focused pretending to find his paperwork attractive.

Price gets in without invitation.

«Just a word» he sits at the desk, usual hat at his place and cigar climbing from his lips «between me and you»

Ghost doesn't lift his sight.

«I've talked with doc-»

«I don't need to be scold 'bout it, if that's what ya'r here for»

Price sighs a low, maybe a little bit too paternal: «Ghost-»

«If you two» Simon raises his voice a little «believe in trusting every goddamn rookie, sending them risking their bloody neck just 'cause they've told you how good they are at shaking their ass-»

«You've already yelled about it, give my ears a rest. In any case, Laswell made the best choice in her position» Captain talks over him. «And I agree with her. We couldn't lose that opportunity, Simon»

«She didn't even managed to end the mission alone»

«But the rookie did a great job. Only problem was taking her out of that shit»

«You can't seriously call a kink exploitation one "great job"»

«She's a soldier. We're not here to babysit, risking our life 's part of our contract»

Silence. 

Price starts to get nervous, feeling some mixed emotions that he really can't stand at six in the evening. He suddenly stands up, patting both hands on the desk, taking a deep breath before exhaling a long, almost exhausted: 

«There's nothing bad in making friends with your allies…»

Ghost is already rushing an "i don't need friends" kinda sentence, but Price anticipates him:

«Me too, i've made friendships on the battlefield that i hope will last as long as my bones will walk on the dirt. Then, we could die together and be happy in whatever hell God'll decide to send us. But» and his "but" was final «i know what you're doing here. Stop it. It's gonna be draining, for the both of you»

Ghost spits out: «I'm doing nothin'», too rushed, then muttering: «Don't even like her»

«I don't care who you like. You can marry whoever you want, you've got my approval»

«For fuck's sake Price-»

«Wanna delete her from your eyesight? Just look straight in front of you from now on. Wanna keep an eye on her?» John raises his hands, throwing Ghost's embarrassment in the air while admitting with the most honest attitude: «Sure. Ok. I keep an eye on you all every goddamn minute of my life. She's not a princess, though. And ya'r not a bloody knight»

Silence becomes again the king in the office. Price is still fixed in his extreme openness, ready to give his Lt. the best suggestions on how-to-not end up again at the infirmary with that goddamn rookie (before the doc kills the both of them).

Then Ghost finally raises his gaze.

And Price has a bad sensation in his guts, almost like he'd said something he shouldn't have.

«Keeping…an eye on her» Simon repeats, lost in thoughts.

John nodds, hesitating before leaving the office.

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[mickgaydolenz]

ASIA I HAVE MORE THINGS TO ADD ONTO THIS! AXS just posted an interview clip with Micky on their twitter, and the interviewer asks some actually REALLY good questions because what i got in return was total enlightenment in response. lo’ Saturn Pisces, thank ye for thy assistance!

first off, i’ve forgotten something very important when talking about his emotional needs towards his career and that’s from when i heard him say “i’ve been blessed to have been a part of it [the monkees]” and that had me reeling back the times i’ve heard him say that over & over, and then i realized, and correct me if i’m wrong …he doesn’t talk about the process of that. he’s happy to have experienced the rewards that came to him, yes, but not the actual work does he ever speak up on. it’s SO subtle that you could miss it. 

moreover, the mainline element between all three earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) is their enjoyment of work -- earth signs are productive folks who live to work, basically. so to differentiate them i explain it like this: Taurus enjoys the building process of its work, Virgo enjoys the routine of its work, and Capricorn enjoys the rewards of its work. 

so with his natal Moon in 10H Capricorn, there’s an added emotional fulfillment in reaping the rewards of his hard efforts, even if it wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed doing within the moment. i mean with how raybert treated them all i really don’t blame him. Obviously you would know, asia, thee keeper of Micky knowledge; i know for sure he’s talked about the work process in his autobio.

this is not the end of this ask, per se. during more digging i've discovered something really grim soooooo. up to you if you want me to share that and maybe ruin your day. i'll spare you from the impact and just leave it at this, because i love and care about you + everyone who reads these and god forbid i put y'all in a frantic panic 👍💕 peace and love on planet earth !!

KALE NO YOU ARE LITERALLY SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS!!! so okay micky very rarely gets into the details of the actual work process, and especially his part of it. that ties back to the whole modest or downplaying of achievements he does where he tends to brush over things that edge into too personal territory, so uh yeah this tracks so fucking hard. he talks about the rewards of having the experience, but not so much the details of said experience. the most i’ve ever heard him get into it was 1. on the head commentary where he talks about how he struggled with acting in the movie and felt very self conscious of his performance, 2. the little bits of information he talked about when it came to filming the frodis caper and 33 1/3 revolutions per monkee on the commentaries, 3. the very small bits he talks about in his book (which are really….not a lot), 4. this candid interview he did where he kind of got more into working as a director and coming back to work in the u.s for the 80’s tour, and 5. the two episodes he was on of gilbert gottfried’s podcast where he touches a bit on head and also talks about how as a director in england he kind of got a reputation for being very quick when it came to shooting which actually wasn’t as good a thing as people thought (with the implication being he felt like the quality of his work suffered). i know in the 80’s and even into the 90’s he was very almost defensive? i would say of his career post monkees, but even then he was saying it more as a selling point (and probably as a way to soothe his ego) and less as an avenue to open up. so yeah again it’s the being open without being open, valuing his work but still downplaying his achievements or brushing past the details. ALSO dude fucking hit me with the grim discovery, i want to suffer 💖🙏😭

[thetruearchmagos]

So-

@theprissythumbelina do you remember that intelligence analyst 'category' of character I mentioned a long while back?

Well, for some reason it came to mind the other day, and I've been thinking more about the sorts of characters I'd hope to use as POVs in my WIPs, and I've made a small change in a certain character from Swift Seas And Whirlwinds which I thought might really add to the perspective they offer.

The character in question is Lance Corporal Piki Ngata, UC Marine Corps, and since I've got a character intro for him in the works I'll save the details for later. Basically, though he's semi active pre-War (AKA the 'first' book) where he offers us a look into life on the soon to be invaded island of Paeroa, Ngata really comes into his own once war breaks, where he'll appear in the fight to defend his homeland and birthplace from the invaders. Theoretically not too convoluted, though I have some spanners in mind to be thrown into things...

But that's not the point! Of this post, that is.

You see, Ngata actually began life as the product of one of those "Wouldn't it be cool if..." sorts of daydreams that spawn half the shit I write. The Scene that he firsts appeared in has him as one of the crew of a 'coastal missile battery', waiting for a chance to strike at the invasion fleet offshore, before a mass air raid wipes out most of the batteries and their 'radar' sites.

Now, that's all well and good for a one-off brainflash, but as I've been fleshing out his relationships with his fellow locals, his colleagues, and his superiors, I realised that the role I've given him was frankly a bit of a limiting one. For Plot Reasons Too Long To Explain Here, the coastal missiles don't really play much of a role past this very early scene, and even there they don't really have much of an impact on events since they're just getting shot at without any chance of fighting back. I reasoned that if I'm going to give Ngata the honour of being a proper Perspective character in SSAW then I'd better make it an interesting one with serious potential for development.

So, I put him in Air Defence!

... which I can assure you is a lot more of a change than that little quip might suggest.

You see, while I've been thinking about all this, I've also spared a few side thoughts for how the air war for Paeroa goes, which made me quickly realise that putting Ngata here leaves him straight up relevant for a lot longer. The idea of UC coastal missile batteries was always an iffy one for me for Worldbuilding reasons (because I am incapable of considering any others apparently), but air defence is very much something I felt I could do more with.

The idea for this change also brings up some opportunities for what I considered 'interesting emotional developments', AKA Shit He'll Seek Therapy Over. As part of the fragile and utterly outmatched air defence grid protecting Paeroa, Ngata will at least get to shoot back at his attackers, but every lost battery or shot down friendly fighter is a gruesome loss he knows they can't afford to take, while Nouvoloian warbirds come in day and night and seem to crash upon his comrades no matter how badly he wounds their numbers.

At the same time, his duties leave him physically separated from the worst of the fighting on the ground, where two companies of marines fight for every hill and patch of jungle against a full Nouvoloian brigade. Casualties streaming through to the rear hammer in how comparatively privileged his circumstances are to the boots, and he knows every aircraft or missile that slips through his watch means another body on a stretcher or in a bag. For this marine, it makes for a strange kind of guilt.

And... that's about that. Considering how much weight I put on a fair number of characters to tell their stories through their own unique perspectives on events greater than themselves, you'd think I'd be more thoughtful about how I handed out POV Character status. Then again, I think turning a daydream into a chance to tell a distinct and unique narrative isn't a bad way to go about writing. Now that I've mentally straightened out my thoughts on Ngata, I'll see if I can rationalise and ground the Perspectives of some other folks...

After I'm done with his Intro!

Also, for the character lore, Tagging @athenswrites @caxycreations @hessdalen-globe

[wakuseicloset]

ranting about everything post 😶 i will spare you all unless you would like to opt into my suffering

Sorry this shit is literally so embarrassingly #long omg i feel fucking wacko but i had to get it out so here is my unhinged rant

I kinda feel like i'm only now recovering from this weird burnout/depression slump i've been in for the past year and i'm glad i'm getting motivation back before i have to do my QE or whatever but man

I just have so much to do every day and like i feel like there aren't enough hours in the day 😭 like technically if i was willing to do work for 12 hours or whatever i could be ahead of schedule... But like i'm literally not capable of doing that. I can be on campus from like 10-5 and then go home and squeeze another 1-2 hours of productivity from my body and then i literally just cannot do anything else like i can't focus

It's just like... Man i know that's a completely normal way to feel as a human being but like there is just so much going on right now that it's hard to keep up... Like i gotta write my qualifying paper, start my dissertation proposal... Teach 2 discussion sections every week... Grade 70 homeworks every week... Revise this paper for this journal... Contact my committee members... Meet with people... Hold office hours... (that last one is a joke nobody comes) and at the same time i haven't even been thinking about my career after graduating and transitioning into industry and i barely have attended any conferences and i'm so behindddd

I just have this weird resentment towards some other people in my cohort sometimes like why are you guys on top of your shit. It's not fair lol. And sometimes i literally am just lazy or too anxious to do basic things i need to do but . YALL... STOP WORKING SO MUCH PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU PLEASE

Never mind the fact that whenever i see certain ppl from home theyre like "So when are you done" and none of them even know what i do or care at all 😭😭😭😭😭 like oh my god and when i try to explain it's like "im too stupid to understand" no you just don't give a fuck! you want me to move back home asap and don't care to learn anything about what my actual life is like down here!!!!!!!!!! bro!!!!!!!!!!!!

i swear like they'll be like "so are you gonna move back here when you're done" and im like "idk it depends on where i get a job! i might stay in CA!" and theyre just like "well im sure you can find something in seattle" idk it's well meaning but i havent lived up there for 7 years and i honestly just don't have the attachment to being there beyond it being where my mom family and grandma lives. like i got friends everywhere. im the friend master. i could live anywhere. im like a geography chameleon. im sorry i just have other things to prioritize

Idk it just all boils down to doing a phd is really hard and nobody knows how hard it is except people who are doing it or have done it. That's not to say it's objectively harder than other types of work it's just its own special brand of hard that is not relatable and nobody cares about. AND IT SUCKS!!!! CARE HARDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wildjuniperjones]

Sere, one of the MCs from Bonds of Trust, is actually at a magical trade school! She's a grad student, essentially in a magical domestics engineering degree.

Her discussing her current job and future with Anya, her housemate:

“Well sure, but I’m not going to be doing this for the rest of my life,” Sere replies, pulling a packaged meal from the icebox built into the countertop. “Eventually I’m going to graduate and get a job in my field– don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

“It’s not gonna make you nearly as much money-” [Anya started to say.]

She stomps around the corner to face them. “You. Don’t. Know. That. The person who scaled down the size of facets made a fortune-”

“And you’re working on a domestic degree! How do you know you’re not going to be stuck in a boring ass office, trying to make an icebox one degree colder?” Sere takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing. “I don’t, but neither of us can see the future, so there’s no point in arguing about it. Again. This is what I want to do. Lusti is just a way to pay the tuition costs, as you pointed out when you pitched it to me last year,” she says before returning to the kitchen.

Her explaining her research project to Leo, her friend:

“So what got you into Albertus, then? I’m guessing it’s not language.”

“Well, this, actually,” she says, pulling her bag off her shoulder and setting it between them. It looks like just a regular leather purse, but given that she’s some kind of mage, he’d bet there’s more to it than that. “This is an extra-space bag. They’ve been fiendishly difficult to make, but I made this one as my senior project for undergrad.” She reaches inside to demonstrate, reaching past where the floor should be and pulling out a book that should not have fit in that bag. “I theorize that they can be made more simply, by sacrificing some of the interior space. It’s a matter of materials and the high rate of accuracy needed for the sigils used in its creation. Now, normally we can rely on auto-painters for sigil replication, which has sped up production for wards and even moving advertisements. But in the case of the extra-space bags, the space required for the enchanting circle is larger than standard, and requires fine-tuning across the outer rim of runes to account for variance in the materials– I’m sorry, this is probably really boring for you.” She finishes, looking at him sympathetically.

A peek at life in undergrad and how magic is integrated into everyday life:

“[...]I’ve got a change of clothes for emergencies. Alchemy, y’know,” she says, patting her bag[…] “…I don’t know, actually. It’s not something I have a lot of experience with, although obviously I use the results of alchemy regularly.” Everyone does, really. Feystones, semi-permanent spells for keeping food cold, water running, and lights on, even landautas [sentient vehicles] were originally the creation of alchemists and other magical artisans. He had probably just used security sigils to trigger the wards for the doors and windows, which would only permit entry to himself or [his boss]. But few people understand how magical crafting works. After all, if it ‘just works,’ what need is there to understand it unless something goes wrong? And it was the job of newer alchemists like herself to refine processes, reduce the errors, improve the longevity and quality of the spells, and come up with new applications or even new spells, should they prove needed or useful.

“Well, when I’m working at the lab during the school year, there’s always a chance that something’s going to go haywire and explode everywhere. It’s useful to have a spare set of clothes in your cubicle at all times, so you don’t have to run home half-naked–” her gaze wanders as she talks, [...] and it isn’t until she gets to the end of her sentence that she notices him looking at her with a horrified expression. “…Explode?” He’s blushing again, a cute affectation. “Yeah? It doesn’t happen often at the grad student level, but in undergrad back in [our hometown], it happened about once a week. But that’s what warded lab coats are for.” “Warded? Like how I closed up the studio just now?” “Kind of. It protects your exposed skin from burns, acid, projectiles, that kind of thing. It was kind of a trend for the folks in undergrad to come up with the most over-the-top swimsuit that still met school requirements.” She chuckles and relates the memory of one particular student showing up in a swimsuit with holographic palm trees that appeared to sway in the breeze from the ventilation– and how each tree had fallen over when they got hit with an exploding potion.

And a brief bit about the difference between alchemists and wizards:

“Um, what would you have done if you weren’t an alchemist?” [Leo] asks[...] “Well, probably study proper magic. Alchemy is useful, necessary even, but I was always more interested in pure magic, without the props.” “Alchemy isn’t proper magic?” It certainly seems like it is. “Not really? It’s like applied, commercially viable magic. I’m talking like… like spells that change the weather, or crack open mountains like eggs,” she says, gesticulating with excitement, then slackening dejectedly. “But I couldn’t afford the tuition, even back in [our hometown], even with my scholarships. Becoming a wizard is pricey.” “I’ll have to take your word for it. I barely made it out of high school.

Later chapters deal with the rather cutthroat world of academia, shitty advisors, tenure, etc.

Anyway, just wanted to share that this is something authors think about from time to time!

A thing that bothers me about wizard schools in popular media – outside of the magic-grade-school stuff, anyway – is that they're typically depicted as being basically magic universities, but their actual curricula and pedagogical approaches look much more like those of a technical institution. Like, buddy, that's not a wizard university, that's a wizard trade school. You can't just slap university student culture on top of trade school pedagogy. It doesn't work like that – the one emerges from the other!

[titanicfreija]

Names

"Ghost."

"Empress!" Sunny chirped, happy to be approached.

"Do you have a name?"

"I'm Sunny!" she chirped. "Freija named me after a few months of being Risen. We wanted to wait for something to sound right."

"And your guardian is Freija," she said. "How are names given?"

"That's very personal and individual, and I'm pretty sure every single one of us has a different answer, even the ones who still use Ghost. I wanted my guardian to name me from very early on. We got Freija's after being caught in a spare library. The priestess that caught us was overwhelmed half the time, but she helped us pick out Freija."

Caiatl's stance rocked back and her shoulders squared. Sunny guessed it was satisfaction with the answer.

After some thought, Caiatl said, "Another question; Who is in command?"

Sunny giggled, bobbing as she rolled over every answer she could give. "We all have different relationships with our guardians," she explained. "For me and Freija, we go back and forth, depending on what we're doing. If it requires brain, me, and brawn goes to her. For obvious reasons. But I wouldn't even say we're in charge so much as getting our parts done. Sometimes we argue, and we compromise. I know Rex would have his guardian on a leash if he could, and more than a few go completely unheeded. It depends."

"Yes. This is all, today. Thank you for your time," Caiatl said stiffly, thundering through the room and out the door. Sunny could only wonder if it was something she said....

~

~~

~

End of Lightfall Spoiler heavy

First approach

Names <-You are here

Third chat

Making friends

Nature of the connection

Will you help

Saint

The other Titans

Zavala talks to Freija

Truth Dawning

Truth in daylight

Cleaning up a mess you made

Epilogue

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 10

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam helps you out in planning for the launch while Bucky is away.

Word Count: 4.2k (woopsies)

Warnings: SMUT is back, angry unprotected sex, spitting, a tiny hint at scratching and choking, some hurtful words thrown in yada yada yada, kinda intense asjkcackansk

A/N: STRAP THE FUCK IN BECAUSE WE BOUTTA RIDE A DAMN ROLLERCOASTER OMG I’m nervous for this because I found this part very intense while writing it. And I hope it comes across as that to y’all as well because my fingers ached from how hard I was typing this part lmfao. Team Bucky vs Team Reader/Team Sam here we goooo sksksk enjoy

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You didn't accept Sam's invitation to connect in LinkedIn. Not yet. But it did give you several ideas, like maybe submitting a resignation letter? Get away from Bucky and his toxic ass? He has Mackenzie now, he can easily have her take over your position anyway.

However, you were also torn because you loved your job at Bucky's company. It paved way for you to improve your skills and you experienced a lot of growth too. And well, Bucky's there too but god, you hated him right now. As much as you wanted to wave the white flag, you didn't feel like it was the right thing to do.

You wanted Bucky to learn that not everything he wants, he can easily get. And Mark was right, that you weren't just a trophy employee or whatever. You were so much more than what Bucky probably thinks of you.

And you were going to prove him that.

-

"Hey, Bev. Can you ring up your boss for me? Tell him I want to go over some of the plans I made for the launch before I discuss it with Mackenzie tomorrow." you asked.

Beverly was about to lift the phone up when an unexpected visitor arrived. None other than Sam Wilson himself.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop but did I hear you correctly? You've already made some plans for the launch?" he asked with interest.

You chuckled, "Sort of. Well, it's a rough draft of my ideas. I just thought it would be nice to get a headstart." you admitted.

Sam nodded and was about to say something when Bucky stepped out of his office, his brows furrowing upon seeing you and Sam conversing. Bucky eyed you before glancing over at Sam, patting his shoulder gently as a greeting.

"You checking up on us or what?" Bucky teased with a chuckle.

Sam shook his head, "Not really. Well, kinda. I figured that another presentation would be unnecessary, I mean. I'd love to work on the launch with your team instead of being on the sidelines for approvals." he admitted.

You shrugged, "I think that's a great idea too. Less time to waste, less back and forth." you pitched in.

Bucky frowned a bit, his jaw clenching at how you backed up Sam immediately. "That's fine, but I have a meeting in a few. Might last the entire day. Mackenzie won't be here until tomorrow too." he said.

"She and I can discuss her plans today and maybe I can pitch in some of my ideas too. She can present them tomorrow to you and Kenzie." Sam suggested, gesturing over to you.

Bucky stared at you and Sam alternately, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You could see his internal struggle about leaving you and Sam to discuss about the launch, without his presence.

You lifted up the folder in your hand, "I wanted to go over these plans with you but I didn't know you have a meeting. Sam and I can just refine these today, would save us a lot of time. We don't want to be rushing anything for this project at the last minute." you told him.

Bucky swallowed but nodded anyway, albeit with hesitation, "Yeah. Of course. I'll just catch up on the both of you later."

And with that, Bucky walked away but not without sparing you and Sam one final glance. His eyes met yours for a brief moment and you weren't sure, but you saw a flash of worry in his eyes before it was immediately replaced by his usual stern, ice-cold gaze.

You turned to Sam with a smile, "We can discuss in the conference room." you said and led the way.

-

The planning was seamless and you were surprised that you had so much fun exchanging ideas with Sam, to the point of almost forgetting about lunch break. It was quarter past noon when the both of you realized that it was way past lunch time.

"Do you want to grab lunch or order something instead? I honestly hate working lunch, just so you know." Sam said with a laugh.

You groaned, "I hate that too, honestly." you admitted with a chuckle.

Sam nodded, "Great, we can head out for a quick lunch?" he asked.

It didn't even cross your mind to hesitate, so you immediately agreed and even asked if you can take Beverly with you. You'd grown somewhat attached to her in the short time you've known her. Poor kid was being treated like an outcast by the other office girls. She always waited for you to have your lunch break too, especially that Mark has been pretty busy lately.

Sam was kind enough to agree about including Beverly for lunch. The two of you were about to head out of the conference room when Beverly peeked in, worry etched all over her face.

"I need your help." she whined, "I think I messed up Sir James' schedule. Mister Nakajima is on the phone and said that he's going to be an hour late for a meeting today. I forgot about Sir James’ meeting with another company today!" she explained, almost close to tears.

You rushed over to her and held her shoulders, "Hey, calm down. Did you tell Mister Nakajima?" you asked.

"I did and he got mad at me! Today is his only free day and he said that if he doesn't meet up with Sir James, the deal is off." Beverly said, stomping her foot on the ground.

You heaved out a sigh, knowing that the deal was very important. Mister Nakajima owned an auto manufacturing company which produces world-class materials for cars. Bucky had been working on convincing Mister Nakajima to be his permanent supplier for quite a while now. Big fucking deal.

You looked back at Sam, "Hey, I'm sorry. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" you asked with an apologetic expression.

"Take your time." Sam nodded with a smile.

You went over to Beverly's desk and took over the phone call, without knowing that Sam trailed behind you. He watched you carefully as you talked to Mister Nakajima, your demeanor calm yet confident.

"Hi, Mister Nakajima. I'm the company's Marketing Head and I would like to apologize for the mix up. Bucky has been working really hard on improving the quality of our products, he's been in meetings in and out. That being said, would it be alright if I take over this afternoon's meeting instead? Bucky worked on an amazing presentation and I honestly would love to go over it with you and just show you how this partnership would be beneficial for both our companies." you asked.

Fortunately, you were able to appease Mister Nakajima while also saving Beverly's ass for her honest mistake. As soon as the call was done, you reassured Beverly that everything was fine now and that you'll take care of Bucky. By the time you looked back at Sam, he was merely smiling at you.

"You're really good with people."

-

Lunch break passed by quickly, with you, Sam and Beverly engaging in all sorts of conversations. Even Beverly felt comfortable being around his presence. He mainly talked about his experiences at his first job, giving Beverly a couple of tips on how to navigate through the corporate world.

Sam was very kind.

The planning resumed after lunch and by the time Mister Nakajima and his associates arrived, the launch plan was pretty much refined with a lot of details. Sam excused himself to give you time to meet with Mister Nakajima, however, he said he'll be staying until Bucky comes back.

Presenting to Mister Nakajima made you nervous as fuck, especially that he didn't really work closely with you which might affect his decision. Luckily though, you knew Bucky's presentation like the back of your hand due to the fact that he had gone over it with you for a couple of times back when the two of you were still, well, fucking around.

Ah, the good old days.

The meeting with Mister Nakajima went perfectly well because as soon as you were done with the presentation, the old man simply asked for the contract to seal the deal. Although it wasn't you who actually worked on the deck, you had a sense of fulfillment. You were proud of yourself and you couldn't wait to dangle it right in front of Bucky's face.

"Thank you so much, Mister Nakajima. We are excited for this partnership." you said happily as you led him and his associates out of the conference room, just as when Bucky arrived.

He looked confused when Mister Nakajima greeted him happily, shaking his hand and telling him how good his presentation was. Bucky looked over at you, as if asking what the hell was going on. You merely shrugged and headed back inside the conference with Sam.

Bucky followed shortly and for some reason, he looked agitated. He was about to speak up when Sam beat him to it, giving him a hard pat on the back.

"The launch event is gonna be really good." he said confidently before glancing at you.

"You're lucky to have her, Bucky." he said before bidding goodbye, giving you one last look and a wink as well, something that Bucky immediately noticed.

When Sam left, so did the light atmosphere inside the conference room. Bucky turned to you with a scowl, his footsteps rushed and heavy as he approached you.

"What the hell happened with Mister Nakajima?" he asked gruffly.

You smiled as you handed him an envelope, "The partnership is a go. He signed the contract and his team will be keeping in contact with us and our factory soon." you explained proudly.

Bucky took the envelope from your hand and went through the contract before placing it back on the table. "I thought my meeting with him isn't until Friday."

"Beverly mixed up your schedule and before you even reprimand her, give the girl a break. It's her first job and with the amount of meetings you've been having, mix-ups are inevitable. What matters now is that I took over the presentation and Mister Nakajima signed the contract." you explained with nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head, "The end does not justify the means." he said. "Beverly should have been careful. My schedule is not a joke and if I miss another important meeting, that can fuck up the entire company."

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Beverly surely learned from today's mistake. It's done. The deal is on. Everything is peachy. The launch details have been planned out, Sam is happy with it. All I have to do is to secure your and Mackenzie's approval for it and then we can start with the execution. You're welcome." you said all in one breath, handing Bucky a USB containing the details of the launch.

You brushed past Bucky to leave the conference room but you were immediately pulled back with his hand around your arm. He looked down at you with an angry look on his face, almost fuming. You couldn't understand why the fuck he was so aggravated with you today. Sure, he had been testing your patience lately but it was the first time he actually looked like he was going to snap.

Not at the situation, but at you.

"Are you trying to impress Sam? Taking on my responsibilities while he's around?" he asked, eyes narrowing at you.

You scoffed, unable to believe what Bucky was accusing you of. Pulling your arm back, you took a step back and looked at him with disgust. "You're unbelievable, Bucky." you said.

"Had I not stepped in, we would have lost the deal. You promoted me for a reason, and I believe part of it is my leadership skills. And no, I'm not trying to impress Sam. I'm simply doing my fucking job." you hissed and tried to side step Bucky, only for him to block your way.

"Did he offer you a position in his company? What the fuck was the wink all about?" Bucky accused yet again.

"Oh my god, Bucky! You're blowing things out of proportion. He didn't. We talked about the event. That's it." you explained, pinching the bridge of your nose because Bucky was getting on your very last nerve.

Bucky had been fucking with you too much now and you could feel the last bits of your composure slowly slip away with every word that was coming out of his mouth. Coming for your job was one thing, but accusing you of flirting your way to another company? That was a low blow.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the notification on your phone the other day. Seems to me like Tinder matches don't work for you anymore, you moved on to LinkedIn now to find connections instead?" he asked and that particular statement struck a certain nerve.

You let out a bitter scoff, "Do you even hear yourself, Bucky? At least Sam was being professional and didn't use Tinder to hire a fucking consultant to threaten my damn job!" you slipped, unable to hold back.

The look on Bucky's face was a whirlwind of emotions-- shock, wrath, exhaustion-- and you felt like you were supposed to get scared. Gone were the blue orbs that used to make you feel safe, his eyes only held anger in them. And the thing was, your eyes looked the same as you held Bucky's gaze.

You were so fucking tired of everything, of Bucky.

"How did you-- it doesn't matter." Bucky said, shaking his head. "How much did Sam offer you?" he asked.

Your jaw dropped at the implication of Bucky's statement, "You are a fucking asshole, Bucky. Sam didn't offer me a fucking job. You really don't listen, Bucky. You never listen." you huffed out exasperatedly.

"Okay, maybe he hasn't laid down his offer yet. Perhaps, you let him fuck you too?"

Your vision blacked out upon hearing that and by the time you regained your senses, all you could feel was how your palm stung. You had walked up to Bucky and slapped him right across the face, hard enough to make the corner of his bottom lip bleed. Your entire body was trembling from rage as you stood in front of Bucky.

He tilted his head as he wiped the blood off from his lip, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. And then his hand gripped your neck, tugging you close for a bruising kiss. You grunted against his mouth and pushed him away, slapping him again. Before Bucky could even recover, your fingers wrapped around his tie pulling him down to you for another kiss.

Walls crumbled down, tension was broken and needs were being fulfilled. The rush of emotions blurred the line between fury and lust with the latter obviously winning. All you could think about was the throb that you suddenly felt within your core begging for relief.

Relief that was denied from you for the past few weeks of playing cat and mouse with Bucky.

And with the way Bucky was kissing you, you knew he felt the same. It had been too long and both your minds were too hazy to even care that it was only five in the afternoon and that there were employees working just outside the conference room.

Was the fear of getting caught going to stop you? No, not now. Because you needed release and you were sure as hell going to get it. This wasn't like the other times you and Bucky fucked. You didn't care about Bucky at the moment, how he felt or what was going on in his mind. You just needed to release all your pent up emotions and you were going to use Bucky to get what you need.

Bucky pushed you against the table, your tailbone hitting the edge with such force that made you groan from pain.

"Yeah, why don't you make some noise so everyone can see how fucking needy you are for me?" Bucky growled, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as his other hand bunched your skirt up to your waist.

You let out a chuckle, "I'm not the one going to make noise here." you warned before reaching down to palm his erection.

Bucky hissed and bit his lip hard to prevent himself from eliciting a moan. His jaw ticked as he squeezed your face tighter, forcing you to open your mouth as his eyes scanned your features.

"Watch your fucking mouth, baby. I still own you, you're fucking mine." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes lidded as he looked down at you like a predator.

You kept your mouth closed but as soon as Bucky's fingers found your damp panties, you weren't able to stop your whimper. Bucky took the opportunity and spit in your mouth before crashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss. It was all tongue and spit, the way he kissed you as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear.

He kissed you like he owned you.

"I'm not yours, Bucky." you said as your hands quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his hard cock from the confines of his boxers.

The groan that reverberated from Bucky's chest as you stroked him made you smirk. His hand on your face slid down to your neck, holding you tightly as he pushed aside your underwear and then he slid into you with no prior warning. The lack of foreplay made it hurt when he bottomed out, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure when Bucky started moving his hips against yours.

No words were further exchanged from then on. Only soft whimpers and hushed grunts could be heard. However, it was clear that even up until now, there was competition. You didn't want to make noise, didn't want to lose to Bucky. You didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how fucking good he was making you feel right now, with how each drag of his cock was making your toes curl inside your heels.

Your hands held onto his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the table, the fabric of his suit bunching up against your fingers. Bucky kept his gaze on you and not once did you falter, not even when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, almost punching the air out of your lungs.

Bucky held the back of your thighs and lifted you up, sitting you on the edge of the table and bending forward so he could angle his cock in a way that you would feel it deep within you. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, one of your hands scratching at his jaw as he continued to pound your sopping cunt.

"God, fucking missed this pussy. Can feel you clamping down on my cock, you gonna cum soon?" he asked, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the wanton moan that Bucky pounded out of you. Not wanting to be the only one to make noise, you clenched around him hard. Bucky let out a growl at how your walls squeezed his cock, his balls tightening as his own orgasm approached.

"Cum for me, Bucky." you whimpered, tipping your head up to lick at Bucky's mouth as your legs tightened around his waist to pull him deeper into you.

Bucky exhaled heavily through his nose, the veins on his neck popping out as he fucked your harder on the table. He kept his hand wrapped around your neck while the other held onto your waist so tight, you could feel his fingers digging deep into your skin. Even with your clothes on, you were sure that you'll be getting bruises from how hard his grip on you was.

"Go on, Bucky. Want your cum inside, want to feel you fill me up again." you moaned against his parted lips, darting your tongue out to taste his mouth.

The needy tone of your voice sent Bucky to the edge first. He uttered a string of curses under his breath as ropes of his cum painted your walls with their warmth with triggered your orgasm. Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure ran through your veins, starting from your fingertips down to your toes. Bucky kissed you and swallowed your moans as his thrusts slowed down.

It took a while for the both of you to recover from the intense fucking. Bucky nuzzled your neck with his nose, his heavy breaths warming up your sweaty skin. There was a short moment of peace that followed, the tension gone and was replaced by a heavy feeling.

You swallowed hard and slowly regained your senses. The release cleared your mind and the memories of the heated exchange from earlier were quick to come back. Bucky's accusations echoed in your ear and they were so clear it almost felt like he was saying them to you again.

Suddenly, you doubted Bucky's intentions when he promoted you. Was he really impressed of your skills at work or was it because you let him fuck you?

"Get off of me." you said, pushing at Bucky's chest until he straightened up.

Ignoring the emptiness you felt when his cock slipped out of you, you hopped down from the table and started fixing yourself. In the many times you had slept with Bucky, it was the first time that you felt disgusted with yourself.

You turned your back to Bucky as you adjusted your underwear, pulling down your skirt and pressing your palms against the fabric to iron out the creases. Your breath was heavy as you processed what had just happened. And just like that, your reserve broke and the strong facade you had built crumbled down into pieces, leaving you vulnerable.

"Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Bucky suddenly asked when he heard your sniffing, the darkness in his features gone.

His eyes were back to blue and there was nothing but genuine concern when he saw the tears in your eyes. Bucky tried to approach you but you quickly backed away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself as protection.

"Did you hurt me?" you scoffed. "In more ways than one, Bucky." you quickly added, wiping away your tears hastily with the back of your hand.

You were about to walk out of the conference but decided that it was probably time for you to actually speak up about everything. How you felt for him and how much you hated him for coming at you like that.

"I was going to admit that I like you. I thought about it and figured that I was too proud and a bit selfish for not considering your feelings when I rejected you." you explained.

Bucky blinked in confusion, "What? When?"

You shrugged, "The day you brought in Mackenzie. And I was more hurt than mad that you did that. Because you knew how much this job means to me and you had used it against me. You basically took advantage of my weakness, for what? To get me to cave in? Even when I clearly told you how fucking scared I was of the consequences of whatever kind of relationship we have?" you huffed out.

You didn't allow Bucky to speak, not yet. Not until you were done making him understand why you had been so hell-bent on keeping things professional.

"I wasn't born into a rich family like you, Bucky. I had to work my way up to where I am. Unlike you, I have a family to support and if I lose this job, it's not only me who would suffer. And it won't be easy for me to find another one, not after the reputation I'd have once we get busted." you further explained.

"I told you about it so many times and I wish you listened. Because maybe we could've figured shit out. Or I don't know, maybe the fucking was too good and you only wanted me for that." you shrugged.

Bucky quickly shook his head, "No. God no, you're more than that."

You chuckled again, a fresh wave of tears flooding the corners of your eyes. "It most definitely felt like it when you accused me of fucking Sam."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Let me explain, please? I didn't mean to, I was too--"

"No, Bucky. You didn't listen to me when I told you how I felt about us. Now you're going to know how it feels to not to get what you want." you sternly said before walking over to the door.

You turned back at Bucky and refused to let his expression get to you. He looked devastated, his eyes glassy from the tears he had been holding back, his lips parted as he finally realized what he had done.

"Expect my resignation letter by tomorrow. As soon as we're done with the launch, I'm out."

-

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi​ @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

[leviasu]

levi and satan with a fem s/o who is kinda obsessed with sanrio or just cute things in general, and also she keep chanting "ruru" or "toaruru" the whole day out of boredom ｡◕‿◕｡

I have a few works up ahead but I couldn't stop myself once I saw that you requested SANRIO...(/pos) I love sanrio so much ahhhhh you don't understand.. (note at the end of post) n also I got carried away with Levi’s part, so sorry 😭

Sanrio Lover S/O (+ cute things/Fem!MC)

Leviathan

“Toaruru...” “Ruuuuruuuu..” “toaru..” -

Gaahhhh what were you doing to Him?! First you were wearing your cute (favourite character here) hoodie! and now you're making cute little sounds that Levi can't handle because of how cute it is?!?! Would it be rude to ask you what is you're chanting? Even worse, would it make you stop?! I don't think Leviachan’s MC meter can take it anymore ..

Okay, okay... In all seriousness, Levi finds it cute, really cute. especially when He heard it for the first time... He firstly thought you were just chanting the Subtitles of what you're currently watching or playing out loud, until it had hit Him that it was only out of plain boredom or you might’ve explained it to Him instead.

Don't get me wrong, He genuinely finds it cute but it could be a little distracting when He's playing games. But since now He knows that you're doing it out of boredom He gets you a spare controller, indicating He wants you to Join Him with His game! Or He might give you manga instead, but in all honesty He'd choose the game. Your intimacy level with eachother in the game needs a few more levels until you both unlock marriage anyway.

Or if it's a single player/online game, Even though this’ll make it hard to concentrate- He wants to hold you. So... Inorder to do so, He'll catch your attention firstly by making a few small clicks and “pssst”s. if His attempts work, He'll gesture you to sit on His lap while you watch Him play games. (He won't deny that He'll be red as a tomato when you sit on His lap. and will even get more redder when you stare at him to the point where it'll even rival the colour red itself. So... Keep your eyes locked on the screen for His sake of not overheating...)

He'll also love hearing you ramble about your interests and love with cute things! Levi would often ramble aswell about His interests, and He doesn't mind when you do it aswell, Infact, He loves hearing all about it!

He'll often see you scrolling through your DDD looking at cute and sanrio themed items while doing so, He couldn't help but see that you couldn't help but see a cute product on sale on Akuzon, making you slightly frown due to the price but later on kept scrolling.

You then proceeded to get an Akuzon package on your bed, seeing the same product that was decorated in your phone screen.

Since Levi is a huge Akuzon connoisseur, He'll often buy you Cutesy/sanrio figures, accessories, treats even going as Far as getting you a Hoodie of your favourite character everytime He's on the Site. Even if Lucifer scolds Him sometimes due to the sudden rise in Akuzon Boxes in the House of Lamentation. your happy face makes up for it, It fuels Him even more to do so! (he'll tone it down if you tell Him too, but He'll still sneak in a Teacup-themed choco box...)

But, Let's not forget His talent for sewing too, He puts it to good use as He sews you little plushes of anything cute and your favourite characters, clothes... His favourite thing was sewing you both a pair of Matching Lolita and Ouji style-outfits of His and Yours’ favourite colour combined. His Devilgram icon changed along with yours, matching with the cosplay that you both did together.

Image just in case you don't know the concept of Lolita / Ouji style.

But overall, He loves you so much !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~➢

Satan

Another day in the house of Lamentation, pure peace and quiet. Something that Satan thought vanished long ago, and Now... What’s better than living life, pure bliss reading one of His Favourite Novels while a cat is resting on His head, and being in the same room with His Cute Significant O-

“Ruruuuu.....”

What the

He's in shock, the cat is in shock. The woman on the front cover of the Novel is shocked

Okay, enough fussing around. But Satan wouldn't deny He got caught Off-guard at the Sudden noise that you made, He couldn't keep it to Himself and asked you, after a couple seconds of brief context. He offers to let you lay next to Him while He reads the book aloud, or.. you both could dress up the Cat laying in between you both?

Satan would find your traits and interests a Charming thing about you, He absolutely adores seeing you show Him cute decor or items of your liking! He especially liked it when you showed Him Sanrio, His favourite characters are the Cat ones obviously, but In all favour... he adores choco-cat alot.

He would argue with people that say books are boring, but you're an exception. If you're bored and continue chanting the same words that Satan is familiar with, He'd try to give you a book, or an E-book of your liking! But... If he has free time, you both are gonna explore His Go-to spots to have Fun, and most importantly... For you to know more about Him!

Also did I mention Satan absolutely love the way you put on cute little accessories when going out? You just look so cute...!!! You both were once at a Cat-Cafe for a date and to soothe your Boredom. Yet He suprisingly didn't pay attention to the cats. Instead He paid all His attention towards you instead.

He'd buy you both matching cat ears, no buts! You guys will be wearing them together, while aiding the Cat Satan snuck into the House of Lamentation. You're now officially a mom of a cute cat, and you're now the wife of the adoptive -father of the cat.

.

.

.

GODDDD I am in a Extra good mood today. I had so much fun writing this... Especially because I love Sanrio and Levi and Satan, Alot. But then i’m quite sorry if this doesn't match... Some few parts of the Request(?) or overall just missing a few things. I really just free-styled(???) this without thinking much since I was having too much fun. 😭 (But I'll try to add a few more things when I'm gonna edit posts. <3 )

[luminari-mc]

(Mammon x MC/Reader)

Prompt: "She doesn't compare to you. No one does.”

Genre: Angst, hurt(emotional)/comfort.

Pairing: GN!MC/Reader x Mammon

Summary: You and Mammon finally get to enjoy a well-deserving shopping trip just between the two of you. Just as you are about to hit the next shop, your attention is caught by an image advertised in the street.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I wanted to try my hands at a prompt that is tagged as "fluff", but of course I ended up turning it into something angsty instead. But I like sad stuff, so that still works for me.

-------------------------------------------

It wasn't often that you got to spend time with Mammon without having any of his brothers around to bother you. But you had made it very clear to them that these few hours after school would be spent with Mammon, and only him. And for today's trip, you two had decided to go shopping in one of the busiest streets in the Devildom.

Clothes and jewelry stores, malls- you had done them all. When most of this time had been spent doing window shopping, Mammon had still insisted on getting at least a few bags of purchased goods for each of you by the end of the day. After all, what was the point of going on a shopping trip, if you didn't end up emptying your bank account only to regret it later?

And so, thanks to the demon's wonderful influence, your arms had now several bags hanging off of them. There was a certain guilt still looming over your head as you realized way overboard you might have gotten with your purchases, but Mammon promised he would take care of any financial problems you could encounter in the near future because of that. You still wondered how he was going to manage it, him being Mammon and all...

"Damn, now THAT'S what I call a good haul! Look at ya!" The white-haired demon grinned as he watch you hop out of the store, the glass doors opening automatically at your presence to let you out. He placed his wrists on his hips as his own bags dangled in his hands. "What'cha got for yourself this time?"

"They actually had that jacket I saw in a magazine the other day!" The doors closed behind you as you showed the white bag which contained the jacket. "You were right, that store was amazing. I can't believe you never showed it to me before."

"Ha! Told ya the Great Mammon knew where the best treasures were! Consider it an exclusive info, because I ain't gonna share more if any of my brothers are around next time." Mammon turned around before flipping a few of his bags over his shoulder, as you instantly began to trot to get to his level.

"What? So all this time you knew about it and you didn't tell me? Just because Asmo comes with us sometimes?" You expressed shock, right before your eyebrows joined together. "Really, as if you couldn't have told me over text or something."

"And have you go without me?! Nah, ain't gonna happen- you'd just get lost and end up in the worst store possible." Mammon glanced your way, and you could only smirk at his poor excuse.

"Sure, you're right. I forgot that humans don't have the same flawless sense of orientation as demons do." Despite your obviously sarcastic tone, Mammon didn't seem to register it as he nodded at your words.

"Exactly! Even if I gave you the full address, who knows where you'd end up? I don't want ya to come and complain to me afterwards, so it's gotta be with me or nothin'."

Even as you rolled your eyes, you noticed Mammon's face slightly turning away from yours, probably to hide the extra shade of color that had appeared on his cheeks ever so discreetly. Even when he was in his usual tsundere mood, it was endearing to see how concerned he was for your safety. And just how badly he wanted to be alone with you.

"So, where to next?" You asked without really thinking, surprising yourself that even after your extensive purchasing, you still wanted to do more. Or maybe it was that you didn't want this date to end right away. The past few weeks had been nothing but the brothers interrupting each other when any of them found themselves alone with you, so getting to spend some alone time with one of them, especially with Mammon, deserved to be extended a bit more.

"Glad ya asked!" As if a battery had been plugged into him, the demon brandished his arm into the air, the bags swinging by his face and missing him by a few inches. "I got this whole place where they're sellin' tons of stuff for pretty cheap, but it's actually authentic branded things. See, they're actually sold to that one guy who then has to sell them to another guy, and..."

As you listened to Mammon explain how he was able to find "authentic stuff" (probably not that authentic, you were pretty sure about that) for less than a quarter of its original price, your eyes found themselves drifting to an impressive ad plastered on a building the two of you were walking by. Recognizing the habit of Majolish to put their models on display for everyone to see was pretty easy, but that wasn't what caught your eye in the moment.

What tuned Mammon down completely in your ears, were the models themselves. The second born, sitting on a stool with a ripped shirt and pants, a few accessories hanging off his neck and barely covering anything of his exposed chest. He looked serious, staring straight at the objective- and at you, while the light shined on him to completely capture his frame for the picture.

And sitting down in the middle of the shot, between his legs, was a female demon wearing a red leather dress, her head resting on top of Mammon's leg. The clawed hand dangling off his knee- covered in golden rings, seemed to taunt you, as well as the piercing yellow eyes she had. Saying she wasn't beautiful would be lying. In fact, she was absolutely stunning. A perfect model for a perfect shot. Just looking at her made you feel small, like a prey that was about to be devoured by a hungry beast, the longer you were looking at her.

But that's what demons were supposed to make you feel like, right?

"Hey!" Mammon called out from the distance he had put between the two of you since you had stopped walking beside him. "Yo, MC!"

Watching as you kept staring into nothing, Mammon rolled his shoulders with a furrowed brow before walking back toward you, his head tilting to the side as he noticed your dead expression.

"Huuh hello, Devildom to MC? In which realm did ya get lost this time?"

"They replaced it." The words that left your mouth were weak, almost too silent for him to hear. It's as if all of the energy you had had evaporated from your body in an instant.

"Huh?" Mammon grew a bit concerned at this sudden change. His eyes perked up at the ad you were looking at, as you continued.

"The shoot we did together." Finally, you spared yourself from the sight, your gaze dropping to the ground. "They already replaced it with another one."

As soon as Mammon understood why *this* ad in particular seemed to be upsetting you so much, his jaw was already clenching. He remembered the stars he had seen in your eyes the previous week when you saw yourself on the Majolish ad, posing beside him- a shoot opportunity you had gotten while accompanying him after RAD a few days prior. In the middle of his shoot, he practically didn't leave any choice to his agent and had insisted that you be included in the shots to promote one of the new pieces of jewelry the brand was planning to release in the upcoming months. Asmo, who was there to witness your reaction on that day the three of you went out, had even taken a hundred pictures or so of you posing in front of the ad.

Except that, the jewelry you had posed with, was now present on the new model posing alongside Mammon.

He had made sure to engrave that smile of yours in his head at the time, even going so far as to snap a picture of your face while you were too focused on Asmo to notice him. But now, there was absolutely no trace of that same happiness anymore.

"The fuck?" The snarl that left him shook the walls of his throat. "That wasn't supposed to be advertised before another month! Why'd they have to take ours so soon?!"

"It's okay, Mammon." The demon stopped growling as his eyes lowered on the hand that was clutching his arm. "I mean... I'm not a model. Figures they wouldn't put it up for long... I-I mean, look at me. Seriously, who would want to see my face being exposed for longer than they can bare? It's hard to imagine. I wouldn't probably have sold their product anyway, so... it's okay."

The look on your face was devastating. Despite trying your best to smile, the tears pricking in your eyes were threatening to roll down your cheeks at any second. Mammon felt his heart being stabbed with a thousand invisible daggers, he couldn't bear to watch you feeling insulted in such a way.

His bags were immediately dropped onto the floor, the demon no longer caring for any of the fragile items he may have bought. His hands swung forward to cup your cheeks, forcing your face up to look at him straight in the eyes.

"Hey hey, MC. C'mon, look at me."

You did your best not to let your vision turn blurry because of the upcoming tears, and stared back at Mammon, your bottom lip trembling weakly.

"I don't care what anyone, model agents or not, can say- you'd sell a thousand more times than any fuckin' models out there, okay? In fact, you're worth even more than their stupid jewelry!"

His thumb quickly brushed away a tear from the corner of your eye as his other hand came to rest on your temple.

"They just put that one up there because that model is famous. They don't care about what's really beautiful, they just want to boast their popularity to the rest of the world." The blue of his eyes seemed to radiate the closer he moved towards you. "But I know what's beautiful. And her? She doesn't compare to you. No one does."

You could only look down in shame as his hands never left you, closing your eyes shut to let a couple tears out before Mammon grabbed a tissue from his pocket to dry your face. He patiently waited a few seconds for you to calm down, soothing you with slow caresses of your hair until your shoulders stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry..." you muttered, sniffling as you passed a wrist over your eyes. "I don't know why that upset me so much..."

"Ya got nothing to be sorry about." Mammon retrieved his hands from your head, only to grab the bags that were hanging off of your arms. He somehow manages to hold them alongside his own behind him, before wrapping the other arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, I'd call this a day. How about I prepare ya a bath when we're home? Courtesy of the Great Mammon."

You nodded, your lips arching into a smile as you grabbed the hand hanging off your shoulder. The day was cut too short for your liking, but you didn't feel up for any additional purchases, or to properly enjoy your outing anymore.

"Will you wash my hair?" You entertwined your fingers with his as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Pah, of course! Who else but me could do that?" He huffed through his nose, shaking his head at such an obvious question. Your laugh ringing in his ears gave him a brief moment of respite.

But the demon furrowed his brows as he lead you into your walk back home, keeping you snuggled at his side. Holding the bags in his left hand, his white nails sharply digged into his palm the more steps he took alongside you.

Making them cry? Such a big, big mistake. One thing was sure, Mammon wasn't about to let that one pass.

"But before that..." The hiss that escaped his throat went unnoticed by the two of you as your head rested against his shoulder.

"I'll have a few calls to make."

[quindolyn]

Hiiii i heard a headcannon that james potter would love shower sex and i was wondering wether you could write something like that? No specific’s do whatever you want with it just sex in the shower ;)

 You in Here? || James Potter

Word Count: 2268

A/N: I hate this perhaps more than anything I’ve ever written but I need to write if only to remind myself that I still can because sidofhdfwqifbr. I feel like I haven’t been productive in weeks and posting is gonna hopefully help me with that. I’ve hated other things I’ve posted as well and y’all seemed to react positively to those so who the hell knows.

Warnings: Degradation, daddy kink, kinda proof read, little bit of exhibitionism 

Masterlist

“Jamie,” You called out, your voice echoing as it bounced back off the tiled walls of the Quidditch showers. 

You hadn’t been able to grab James after the Quidditch game, where he’d led him and his team to victory, before he had headed off towards the locker room, being stopped by Dobson who was subbing in as keeper for the game. The team’s usual keeper in the hospital wing with a bad case of blood poisoning he’d contracted from an unfortunate Care of Magical Creatures lesson. 

You’d never really given much thought to the boy as he was a year below you and you didn’t much run in the same circles but neither of those facts seemed to discourage him as he pulled you aside after the game.

His desperate and frankly pathetic attempts to flirt with you, the team captain’s girlfriend, had stalled you too long apparently as by the time you’d managed to break free of his bad pickup lines and clumsy winks James was nowhere in sight and Sirius had to direct you towards the showers where he’d seen him disappear into. 

And now stumbling around the locker room looking for your boyfriend you followed the sound of running water to the back corner of the showers.

“There you are,” You murmured as his dripping form came into view. Blocked by a sheet of warped glass all you could make out of his figure was the outline of his strong physique as he twisted and turned to let the water wash over his ridiculously toned body.

“James?” Your voice lilted up in a question as you wrapped your knuckles against the glass of the door.

“(Y/N/N)? What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice rough which you assumed was from screaming over the roaring wind to communicate with his teammates. 

What you hadn’t noticed before escaping James’ subordinate was the aforementioned boy lurking a few feet away, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing as he glared down the boy who seemed to have abandoned all of his inhibitions.

Though you had missed him, James most certainly hadn’t missed you and heading off to the showers he’d hoped that a hot shower would soothe the possessiveness bubbling up in his stomach but it had not had the desired effect. 

“Came looking for you Jamesie,” You explained, “Wanted to congratulate you,” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, painted a brilliant red as you began shedding the numerous layers of clothing you’d been bundled up in to shield yourself from the biting wind.

“Why don’t you congratulate that Dobson kid?” The edge to James’ voice was impossible to miss.

You frowned as you reached around your now nearly bare torso, having made quick work of your top layers, to unclasp your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders to let it fall to the ground. Left in only your panties you spared a glance over your shoulder before abandoning those as well and opening the door to the shower.

Even after all this time you still had to stop your jaw from dropping whenever you saw James’ body, the defined muscles of his abs, the way they shifted in his back as he reached for things and just went about with his daily business.

His legs. Those fucking legs.

And don’t even get you started on his arms because you could go on and on for hours about them, about every part of him quite frankly.

You stood dumbstruck outside the shower cubicle before James pulled you in by your arm before someone walked in and saw you naked. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The boy growled, towering over you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his strong chest. You could feel his half hard cock pressing against your stomach as one hand drifted to your ass, squeezing it to the point of pain before releasing and smacking the afflicted area with the palm of his hand. The burning hot water didn’t help either with the pain as it washed over your backside, amplifying the sting from your boyfriend’s harsh touch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked incredulously, having no clue what he was talking about. “That hurt.”

“Good,” He responded curtly, returning his tight hold on the supple flesh of your bottom, squeezing even more harshly than before, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

“S’ what you deserve after teasing me like that with that fucking prat, and then right now, standing naked in the middle of the locker room, anyone could’ve walked in at any point and seen your arse.”

“No one was gonna just-”

You were cut off by his fingers meeting the side of your face more harshly than you anticipated.

“Ow,” You squeaked, “Was that necessary?”

Growing more and more frustrated James pushed his index and middle finger past your slightly parted lips, shoving his long fingers further and further until the tips of his rough, calloused digits bumped the back of your throat and had you struggling to breathe as he triggered your gag reflex.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” He grumbled, catching your wrist with his hand before you were able to grab at the wrist of the hand gagging you, “First flirting with that little prick and now talking back to me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Your response was garbled as you tried to speak around his fingers, but no matter what you were trying to say it was muffled even more as he pushed his fingers even further down your throat. 

A sick smile grazed his face as you gagged violently, tears slipping from your tear ducts and rolling down your face in twin rivers, collecting in pools at the curve of your jaw.

“Oh don’t cry baby,” He cooed mockingly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to take deep gulps of air as he moved his hands to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

One hand trailed from your face, down your torso, pausing at your tit to take the nipple between his fingers, pinching harshly and pulling a strangled gasp from your lips as the action sent pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain zipping up your spine. 

Eventually finding his way to your pussy James ran his index finger through your sopping folds, smiling cavalierly at the pool of slick he found there.

“Fucking pathetic,” He muttered, staring at his finger as it teased your cunt, “You got off on that?” He asked, lifting his visage to meet yours, “You got off on Daddy fucking choking you with his fingers?”

After a beat of held eye contact, you realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question and that the man in front of you expected an answer. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

Satisfied with your response James’ gaze dropped back to your pussy where he was now lifting up your clitoral hood, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to his touch.

“What was that you said about congratulating me slut?” He asked, harshly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you whimpered and brought your hand up to clasp his bicep, supporting yourself as you felt your knees weakening. 

The pleasure he could bring you from just his fingers was enough to have you in a puddle by his feet, clawing at his ankles and begging for more.

“Think as a reward I’d like to mark you up, show everyone how much of a desperate whore my baby is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Daddy, wanna be your slut.”

“My whore,” He corrected.

“Your whore.”

At your agreement James latched his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking vicious hues of purple and blue into the delicate skin that resided there.

“Fuck,” You swore, tipping your head back so that he could have even better access to your skin.

A pathetic whine slipped from your trembling lips as James pulled away from your neck, instead attaching them to yours, delicately brushing his against your own. As you tried to lean forward, wanting to deepen the kiss you felt James’ hand bury itself in your damp hair, gripping tightly at the root, using his hold to keep your head in place as he pulled back.

“No swearing pretty girl,” He murmured as his lips brushed yours ever so lightly against yours, “Pretty babies don’t swear, yeah?” 

He peppered kisses across your lips as you nodded your agreement, tickling your skin before finally deepening the kiss as you so desperately wanted. You savored the taste of his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, exploring the warm expanse before mingling his tongue with yours. 

You were no match for his aggression as he dominated your tongue pulling a moan from the depths of your belly where you felt a know tightening as the slick between your legs continued to collect in a pool of your own arousal.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” James promised, crouching to loop his arms underneath your thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moving to support your bum as he backed you into the wall, using that to help support your weight. 

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel when you’re mine.”

“Please Daddy,” You begged, pleading eyes looking up at him as you pushed your bottom lip out in a pathetic display of your submission, “Want your cock please.”

It was funny really, how quickly you went from feisty to his submissive slut. And you didn’t even have his cock yet.

Your begging spurring James on, he didn’t bother restraining himself any longer and instead pushed his cock into your warm, pulsing pussy.

A cry tore its way through your throat as he didn’t even bother to ease his way in, not wanting to wait another second, just wanting to be inside of you.

“Shh,” He hissed, clasping a strong hand over your mouth, hanging wide open as you barely had control over yourself to keep your eyes open, much less make the conscious effort to keep your mouth closed in order to keep in the moans and whimpers that shamelessly tumbled from your agape mouth.

James’ pace was relentless as he thrusted in and out of you, watching as his cock appeared then disappeared as he moved in and out of your cunt, your pussy squeezing him to an almost painful degree.

“So fucking pretty,” He swore, palming your tits with his strong hands, leaving your nipples hard as he pinched them again, just as he did earlier, watching the look on your face as he twisted them to the point of pain. 

You snapped your mouth shut so that you wouldn’t let out a curse, not wanting to disobey Jamie. 

“Mine, all mine,” Jamie grumbled as he let go of your boobs, preferring to watch them bounce as he sped up his thrusts, the spongy tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot, pulling a strangled sigh from you as you lost more and more of yourself in pleasure.

“All yours Daddy,” You agreed, leaning your head up against the cold tile of the shower wall as you focused on the pleasure James was bringing you with every deep thrust. 

“That’s right slut,” James said, remembering his earlier frustration, “If s’all mine, all f’me then what the hell are you doing talking to that little dick?”

His hard gaze met yours and though they were swimming with lust it did nothing to dilute the seriousness they held, making it clear to you that he expected an answer.

“Didn’t mean to Daddy, didn’t mean to be naughty,” You explained, hoping that he would realize that you really had had no mal intent in speaking with the boy, you just hadn’t wanted to be rude.

Seemingly paying your response no mind James attached his lips to your collar bone, laving his tongue over it before retracing his steps and sucking marks that matched the ones he’d previously left on your neck. 

As he worked to paint your skin in rich hues he lifted your hips so that he could reach even further depths inside of you, sheathing himself completely inside of you before pulling back out, all while moving his fingers to your clit, where they had once previously resided. 

The combined stimulation of him so deep inside of you and his strong fingers on your clit had the knot in your belly tightening as the stimulation on your clit sent tendrils of pleasure shooting up your back.

It was all too much, the overwhelming stimulation from his cock combined with his fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, and the steady streams of scalding water warming your skin almost had you forgetting to ask to cum as you felt the pleasure boiling up in the depths of your tummy. 

“D-Daddy may I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the locker room door slamming open quickly followed by the rumbling of voices.

“Potter!” One of them called out, “You in here?”

Recognizing the voice as that belonging to none other than the very boy who had landed you in your small predicament you studied James’ face, with wide piteous eyes as the sound of footsteps slapping against the tile floor approached your little enclave.

James smiled deviously at you before responding, “Yeah, we’re back here.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb r @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders

[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[mortedeveles]

a whisker away― 1 | HQ Movie Collab!

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

SUMMARY: After a strange series of events, turning into a cat becomes part of your daily routine, in which you visit your crush- Kenma, every day after school. But he doesn’t know you’re the cat that visits him. And to make things worse, you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep this up before your world spirals out of your control.

PAIRING: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

GENRE & THEME:  A Whisker Away! AU (movie), fluff to angst to fluff, pining. [(two part) ONE-SHOT] [Haikyu Movie Collab!]

TAG’S & TW: Cursing, a bit of unhealthy family dynamics. Mentions of social anxiety, rejection. Some angst, mentions of insecurities and small graphic violence. Reader might come off a bit as yandere-ish/obsessive but she’s just head over heels over Kenma, who’s barely discovering his feelings as well. 

WORD COUNT: 5.7K! 

A/N: Hey y’all! I’m here with my first Kenma fic :) Which is part of @/hitokas-angel Haikyuu Movie Collab! I’ll link the masterlist in my taglist reblog. This fic is based on the movie A Whisker Away but doesn’t follow the entire plot, and I haven’t written in a while and this is my first time writing for Kenma, so I hope it’s okay! <3 Please REBLOG, like and COMMENT if you enjoy! 

Second (and final) part will be out this upcoming week! If you want to be added to the taglist, check my pinned post. 

People are a fickle thing, Kenma thinks. And he snorts at the thought, knowing he isn't any better than any of the passing strangers he's walking by as he heads to Nekoma High. But still, there's something about people, about crowds and socializing that makes him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

People are hard to deal with. If he can barely deal with himself, why bother with others? It's not that he's a sociopath, he does have friends and family he cares about. And he cares about what others think of him. But still, socializing is so intimidatingly hard that he'd rather just avoid it altogether if possible. 

Even with his headphones, he can hear the loud blaring of cars, the chattering of people that brush against his arms, and he tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the nervous fluttering that's sprouted in his stomach from all the alternating and overwhelming noises. Whatever, it's just a car honking. It's just a little kid screaming. So he braces his arms as he buries his hands in the pockets of his sweater, feeling a bit more relieved as he spots Nekoma High School in the near distance. He usually walks to school with Kuroo, but his friend decided to be productive today and wake up at four in the morning. The mere thought of waking up so early made Kenma yawn and feel drowsy. His eyes feel a bit heavy, though he knows it's his fault for staying up playing video games, again. 

But Kenma doesn't mind the slight drowsiness that courses through his body. In a sense, it feels comforting. Like if the world's been sedated to a more managing level. A world that he can handle without his anxiety bursting through the roof. 

A soft mew snaps him out of his thoughts, and Kenma spots a white kitten rubbing across his legs, and he smiles. It has a unique pattern across its fur, with brown and black spots. He kneels down and gently scratches the cat under its chin, and the furry animal purrs and preens with his touch.

As a small sigh escapes his lips, the boy raises his head and stares at the high school building ahead of him. Several classmates are walking past him and he watches the girls with swishing skirts and boys with their boisterous laugh and messily done ties. 

Despite a large number of students pouring into the building, the morning at Nekoma High is quiet and serene. Giving the black kitten one last scratch, Kenma stands up and heads inside the building, working his way through crowds. His gym bag is heavy in his hand and his backpack slightly thumps against his back, but he pays it no mind as he exits the building and finds his way into the gymnasium. Kuroo, Kai, and Yaku are already in the gymnasium, the three third years chattering amongst themselves. The gym's doors creaked from being pushed open, and Kuroo's gaze snapped towards Kenma, a wry smile crawling onto his lips. 

"Look who got here early. I'm impressed," the black-haired boy crossed his arms, and Kenma rolled his eyes. "You're the first second-year to get here today."

Kenma merely lets out a small grunt of acknowledgment, before trudging towards the locker rooms. He stashes his bag in his locker and then heads out back to the gym, already decked out in his volleyball uniform, but furrows his eyebrows at the sight ahead of him.

Not again. He swallows down an annoyed groan as he spots the all too familiar girl standing with Kuroo, a bright smile painted on her lips as she laughs and talks along with the boy. Why are you here?

"Kenma!" Kuroo calls out for him with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Your super fan is here with a gift." Great. Now he has to talk to you and thank you for whatever you brought. Why couldn't you just take a hint and leave him alone? He thought he made it clear last week when he ignored you as you called out his name and Kenma proceeded to ignore your every word as he raced home. 

"Hi, Kenma!" And there you go again, making his stomach twist with your wide smile. Why did you make him feel this way? He didn't like this feeling. "I had some free time today, so I decided to make you a bento box. I hope you like it," you explain before handing over the box, and Kenma ignores the way his skin heats up as your fingers brush against his. 

"Thank you," he murmurs but refuses to meet your gaze, hoping you'll go away without another second to spare.

"Aww, aren't you two adorable!" Kuroo coos at his left, and Kenma feels his pride shrivel and glares at the black-haired boy, but he pays him no mind.

Kenma drops his gaze to your shiny school shoes, hearing you stammer and step back nervously, and Kuroo's boisterous laugh echoes in the gym. Kenma lifts his gaze as he watches his best friend approach you and watches as your eyes widen as Kuroo grips your chin.

"If Kenma doesn't appreciate your gifts, I sure will. If you ever get tired of him, give me a call, eh?" Yaku and Kai laugh loudly as you squeak and nod, before rushing out of the gym.

"Poor girl, did you see the look on her face? You've tormented her too much, Kuroo," Yaku says with a disapproving tone to his words, but there's a wide grin on his face that says otherwise.

"Relax, it's all just a bit of fun. You don't mind, do you Kenma?" And the boy turns to look at the blonde, dropping his mischievous expression as he faces Kenma with genuine concern. 

"No, of course not." Kuroo relaxes at the boy's response and beams. Kenma turns around towards the benches, ignoring the loud pounding of his heart and the ugly feeling that begins to boil in his stomach. 

                    ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Despite the searing heat that spread across your face after fleeing from the gym, you'd like to think your mission went pretty well. One, you made it to the gym without chickening out and two, you talked to Kenma without looking like an idiot! And three, you handed over the bento box and it was successfully received. 

So you spend the rest of your day at school with a bright smile, the small interaction with Kenma being enough to lift your mood. Soon enough, the school bell chimes softly, and you walk to lunch with your friends, Azumi and Emiko.

While Emiko goes off to the vending machine, her brown hair bouncing with her each step, Azumi and you walk towards a lunch table. But you freeze in your steps at the sight ahead of you. With only a tree and a few bushes separating you two, Kenma and Kuroo walk languidly ahead of you and you quickly duck behind the bushes, pulling Azumi down with you. Before she can protest, you slap your hand over her mouth, signaling her to be quiet. 

"Shh!" You peek your head over the bushes, watching with rapt attention. Kenma walks side by side with Kuroo, the taller one gossiping as they approach a lunch table. They sit down at one of the tables blanketed under the shade of the trees, and your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull out your bento box. He kept it! A small part of you was fearing he would drop kick it at a trash can, but you feel much more relieved now that you see him with your gift. The branches begin to scratch against your forearms and thighs, and your friend grumbles at your side about how the bushes are annoying, but you pay her no mind as you watch almost in slow motion as Kenma opens your bento box and begins to eat. He digs into the food with his chopsticks and you strain your ears to listen as Kuroo speaks. 

"Oh? You're eating the bento box Y/N prepared for you?"

Kenma's brows furrow as he rolls his eyes, before continuing to dig into the food, cheeks puffed out with food. He ignores Kuroo's teasing words, and you don't think the smile on your lips can grow any wider. Wow....have you ever felt this happy before? You can't describe the happiness, the joy, and the satisfaction that blooms from your chest and floods your mind at the sight of your crush eating your food. 

"Okay," you let out a deep breath as you dramatically fall back on the grass, closing your eyes in bliss. "I can peacefully die now..."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Azumi chides you but falls back onto the grass at your side, and you can't stop the giggle that leaves your lips. 

"But it's true," you mumble as you drape your arm over your eyes, blocking off the blinding sunlight. "Kenma took my bento box. Kenma Kozume, the boy I've crushed on for years, took my food! And he's eating it!"

"Nothing else can make you happier, huh?" Your friend says with amusement, and you hum. You push your arm away from your face, and stare at the bright sky, raising your hand upward and partially block the sun's rays. 

"There is something else," you murmur, and Kenma's face flashes across your mind. "But beggars can't be choosers. I'll take what I can."

"What do you want?" Azumi rolls to the side and propels herself with her arm, looking at you expectantly. "Tell me."

You glance at her briefly before looking away with a small smile. You gaze at the sky, and you notice a small, burning light that travels across the blue horizons. A shooting star? That can't be it. It's the middle of the day. But you furrow your brows, a small prayer whispered in your head as you respond to your friend.

"I wish Kenma's heart belongs to me as much as mine belongs to him."

Azumi snorts. She rolls her eyes and lays back down on the grass, and you stifle a giggle.

"Well, good luck with that." She murmurs, and you hum in response. You close your eyes and spread your arms on the grass as the wind gently blows across the open area. 

"Thanks. I'm going to need it." You murmur mostly to yourself, but then you open your eyes and raise yourself from the grass, peeking through the branches and leaves. Kenma is still scarfing down the food you made and Kuroo drinks some canned juice. And you feel newfound determination flooding through your veins as you turn and beam at your friend, eyes set on your goal.

"I can do it. I know I can."

Azumi chuckles, watching you with an amused smile. She then rises from the grass, stretching her limbs before outstretching a hand towards you. 

"Well if it's anyone that can do it, it's you." And you smile. With a small huff, you grab her hand and rise to your feet, feeling much more hopeful than before. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

On the way home, you walk with Azumi and Emiko, but soon enough part ways since you three live on different streets. Humming absentmindedly, you swing your bag in your hands as you walk towards your home with no rush in your steps, feeling as if you have all the time in your hands. Your mind drifts back to Kenma- as it always does, and you smile. You're determined to win him over, but truthfully, you're not sure how. A small sigh leaves your lips, and you begin to pick up your pace when you hear a loud crash from the alley on your left.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn around and look into the rather dark alley, feeling your heart pound loudly. Uh oh. This can't be good. But you're frozen in place, and all you can do is watch in slight horror as a large and tall figure stomps out of the alley, slowly leaving shadows as it steps into the light. And you find yourself looking at... a cat?

That is if you can call this...thing, a cat. 

Towering over you, the overweight white cat stands on its two paws, black and brown spots littering its fur. Strangely enough, the animal sports a dark blue kimono with a mustard yellow cloak draped over the clothing and a red scarf wrapped around its thick neck. And the weirdest of it all? The cat is smoking a pipe. Rather than being afraid, you're stuck in place as confusion swarms your thoughts.

"Uh..." You stare up at the cat, whose eyes are closed. "Hello?"

"Greetings, human." And the cat exhales a puff of smoke right on your face. Coughing, you furrow your brows with annoyance. "I've heard your prayers, so I am here with an offer."

Oh. Wait, what? How could've he heard your mental prayers? Maybe it was the shooting star- assuming it was a shooting star. But whatever the reason is, you don't dwell on it too much as you swallow and take a step back.

"Which is...?" You wait for the cat to continue. Maybe you're hallucinating, which wouldn't be too crazy to consider. Maybe you've been hallucinating this entire day because God knows it's been too good to be true. 

The cat harrumphs, before opening its cloak, revealing a set of colorful masks. Pretty, you murmur to yourself, and the cat chuckles.

"I heard your pleads, and I am here to help. But I'm no love god, so I cannot make that boy fall in love with you. However," he pauses and grins, sharp teeth glinting. "I am the Mask Seller. I give masks to cats who wish to be humans, and I give masks to humans who wish to be cats."

"..." You frown, not liking the strange glint in the cat's eyes. You don't trust him. "And how would that help me win Kenma over?"

The Mask Seller laughs loudly, his belly slightly bouncing. "I have been watching you and the boy for some time now. You, more than anyone, should know why being a cat will change things."

Racking your head for the answer, you go through your memories of Kenma. A cat? Why would being a cat change anything? But then it dawns on you, and a small noise of understanding leaves your lips. 

"He loves cats," you rush the words, eyes wide and the Mask Seller nods. "If I were a cat, I could approach him easily, and learn more about him! And then, I could use that information to become closer to him as a human-,"

"You catch on fast," the cat croons, and you nod eagerly. But then you frown. Why is he offering to help you? What does he get out of this?

"What are the conditions? Price? Rules?" You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently.

"No money involved," the cat's low voice has you relaxing, but you still can't let down your guard. This is too good to be true. "But there are some conditions and rules you have to follow. And a small fee." 

"I'm listening," you nod in understanding. The cat tugs one of the masks hanging from his cloak, a white cat mask that only covers the upper half of your face, with red and pink markings. He places it firmly in your hands, and then clears his throat. "The mask has a time limit. You can only wear it for one hour and a half per day. After that time, you will turn back into a human. And once my services are no longer needed, I will come to collect the mask. And my fee, of course." The glint in his feline eyes has you swallowing nervously, brows furrowing.

"What's this 'fee' you're talking about? You said I don’t have to pay you money." But the Mask Seller only chuckles before flipping backward, and you watch with a slackened jaw as he spins into the air, before floating down to a pipe and waves at you before swiftly squeezing down the passage.

"You'll see! Enjoy your new life." 

And then you're left alone, standing in front of the alley with a cat mask in your hands. 

Frowning, you stare down at the mask, turning it around. There's no engraving, inscription, or any indication of where it was made or such. Oh well. With a sigh, you hoist your bag around your shoulder and continue walking home, the cat mask held tightly in your hands.

Once you reach your home's doorstep, you stop. Pinching your arm, you wince at the stinging pain that shoots up your dream. Well, that crosses out one thing. You're not dreaming. 

Swinging the door open, you announce your arrival, take off your shoes and kiss your mother's cheek, before racing up the stairs towards your bedroom. You need to know whether the mask will work before getting your hopes up, or if you've been having major hallucinations the entire day. A part of you hopes for it to work. Dropping your school bag on the ground, you examine the mask once again, tracing your fingers over the marks. It's a bit similar to a kitsune mask. Taking a deep breath, you straighten your posture before raising the mask and clasping it tight against your face. 

And then it happens. A powerful breeze sweeps into your room, even though your windows are closed, and you feel the world spinning. Closing your eyes tightly, you slowly open them after a few seconds. 

Woah. When was your bag this big? Things look a bit different, a bit sharper. And you're definitely way smaller than before. Glancing downwards, you spot your paws. White, soft, furry paws. The paws of a cat.

Oh my God. It worked! You want to squeal and scream with excitement, but all that leaves your mouth is a small, gentle mew. 

Oh, right. You're a cat. You can't talk. So instead, you walk towards your balcony, thankful you didn't close it last night as you nudge it open with your head. Once it slides open, you take a step forward before examining your paws. You can retract your claws at your own will. That's pretty cool, you think, but it's time to test them out. Leaping forward, you sink your claws into the cement wall and climb upwards, surprised at how easy it is. Perhaps everything is easier as a cat. 

Once you've reached the top of the half-wall of your balcony, you begin to leap on roofs, tread on pipes and sidewalks until you've reached Kenma's house. Ever since you went there for a project in middle school, you've never forgotten his address. Is it creepy? Maybe- okay, yeah, it is creepy, but it's not like you stalk him! You simply memorized his address by heart. Blame it on your love haze from seventh grade, the same love haze that continues to influence your current actions. 

You walk around his house until you reach his bedroom window. You wonder what he'll think, seeing a white kitten peeking through his window. Dread boils in your stomach when you realize he might not even be home at all. What if he's still at volleyball practice? You might've come all the way here for nothing.

But much to your surprise, after climbing up to his window, you find yourself staring at him. Kenma sits at his desk, black headphones on his head as he scribbles on a piece of paper. He must be doing homework, you ponder. Deciding to not interrupt him just yet, you look around in his bedroom, observing the decoration. 

It's rather simple, with beige walls and a wooden floor. On the right corner of his room, a bed is pushed against the wall with pastel green blankets, and to the bed's left, there's a wooden desk with a PC, as well as several stacks of books, what seems to look like comics, and some gaming equipment. 

After you've gotten bored of looking around in his bedroom, you scratch at his window, mewing softly. He doesn't look up, and you find your stomach twisting. What if he just thinks you're a strange stray and ignores you? Or worse, kicks you out of his home? Dear God, you did not think this through. Why did you take that mask again? Your mother did tell you to never accept gifts from strangers. 

But before your endless cycle of overthinking can fully commence, your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull off his headphones and stare at you through the window for a few seconds. You watch his short, dirty blonde hair slightly move with his movements and his slightly parted lips. And you know he sees nothing more but a white kitten, but a part of you hopes that he sees through the magic, and sees you. It's me, Kenma. 

Almost hesitantly, he walks over to his window and pulls it open. You sit down patiently and chirp softly once the window has been lifted. Kenma looks rather confused but doesn't say anything as he reaches a hand towards you and begins to gently scratch your chin. That feels good. You purr and lean into his touch, and you hear a soft chuckle leave his lips. Oh. My. God.

"How did you get up here?" He murmurs, mostly to himself and all you can do is meow in response. 

You watch as he stares at his closed door, before turning back to you. And then, you feel his warm and soft hands go underneath your arms as he picks you up from the edge of the window and brings you to his bed. Kenma runs his fingers through your white fur, and the heat his body emits is almost comforting and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"You like cuddles, don't you?" He says, with a teasing smile that you've never seen before. If you were in human form right now, you're sure you would've passed out by now. 

You let out a soft mew and reach for his cheek with one of your paws, but Kenma laughs as he grabs your paw and squeezes it gently in his hand.

This is it. You've never seen Kenma smile before, much less laugh, and there are no words to describe how it makes you feel. All you can think about is that you need to see it again.

                   ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Your life has taken a strange twist, to say the least. After enduring school, you race home and pull on the mask, heading straight to Kenma's house. You spend an hour there, cuddled in his arms or his lap as he plays video games, one of his hands resting on the top of your head. Kuroo has even come over a few times and seems to enjoy your presence as well. Kenma even feeds you sometimes, but most times you refuse, not liking how your stomach feels once you turn back human. 

"Mmm." Kenma hums as you lay on his chest, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck, buried between your fur. And you purr, closing your eyes. "You smell like heaven. But I wonder," he leans back for a moment, assessing your frame. "What's your name? Do you have a family?" 

"Give it a break, Kenma," Kuroo says at his side, reaching a hand to pet you. His movements are rather brutish and rough and you grumble as he pets your fur. 

"I'm sure she has a family that feeds her. You can't feel her bones or anything, she's a healthy weight."

The boy sighs in response, before sitting up on his bed, moving you to his lap. "But I still get worried," he gently runs his fingers through your fur. "Where does she go after coming here?"

You meow in response. I'm fine, Kenma. You don't need to worry over me. He chuckles, raising you to his face, his nose gently bopping against yours. You stare into his golden eyes, wondering how someone's eyes could be as beautiful and hypnotizing as his, and you feel yourself fall a little bit more in love.

"Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?" Kuroo says as he flops onto the bed, bouncing a volleyball in his hands. 

"Yeah," Kenma murmurs, and you don't miss the way he averts his eyes and how his voice lowers. Does he not like his birthday? "It's this Friday."

"I'm gonna get you some apple pie. Let's go to the park after school on Friday, and then we can go to that arcade you like going to." You turn to look at Kuroo. If you were in your human form, you would've been smiling softly. Though Kuroo can be loud and boisterous at times, you can tell that he cares for Kenma.

"Apple pie is good," he murmurs as his fingers scratch your head. "I like it."

 Your ears perk up at this as an idea pops into your head. Kuroo's going to give him apple pie, but probably store-bought. Which means you can bake him homemade apple pie and buy him a few more gifts. He'll love it! Seeing that his birthday is only in two days, you spring up from his chest and race towards the window. You don't have any time to waste. 

"Huh- wait!" You stop, hearing the sudden surprise in Kenma's words. Mewing softly, you lick your paw and meow one more time before leaping out of the window. That should suffice as a goodbye, right? It's not like you can go up to him and say, "See you later!" You're in the body of a cat, after all.

Once you've dropped down to the soft grass, you begin to make your way home, making mental calculations of what you need to buy and prepare. And you feel giddiness shoot through your chest, butterflies awakening in your stomach. Who knows, maybe the gift will win him over? You can only hope so. 

          ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

By the time Kenma's birthday, October 16th, rolls by, you feel ready as ever. Speed walking to school, you're decked out in your school uniform, carrying the warm apple pie in one hand, and a gift bag in the other, while your bag is slung over your shoulders. You can't stop the giddy smile that crawls on your lips, which only grows wider at the sight of your two friends, Emiko and Azumi waiting for you at your designated spot. 

"Hey there," Azumi chimes in while Emiko gasps at the sight in your arms.

"Y/N! What's all this?" Her words are chipper and her eyes are wide as you smile and begin to walk towards the school, the two girls at your sides.

"It's Kenma's birthday today, so I decided to bake him apple pie and I bought him some gifts. I hope he'll like them," you feel your insecurities seep in your last words, slightly frowning as you look down at your apple pie. You were a good baker, having done many other desserts in the past, but you can't help but fear that he won't like your baking.

"Wow. You really went all out," Azumi comments and you giggle. The three of you continue to gossip as you walk towards Nekoma High and it isn't long until the school building towers over you. You feel your stomach twist as you take in a deep breath. 

Azumi pats your shoulder, while Emiko beams at you and gives you a thumbs up.

"You should give it to him before classes start. Good luck!" The brunette says with a wide smile and you smile back, before marching into the building. Here goes nothing. 

It takes you a few minutes to find Kenma, knowing he'll probably be in the gymnasium, but you decide to check some other classrooms just in case. When you can't find him in any classroom, you grimace and speedwalk towards the gym, knowing you're running out of time. You only have eight minutes left before the school bell rings and then you'll have to head to class. 

Once you've reached the gym, you slowly push the doors open, silently praying that only Kuroo and Kenma are in the gym. 

But your prayers go unheard as a ball rolls right towards your feet, and the boy's volleyball team freezes when they spot you. A small moment of awkwardness passes through before you clear your throat and walk towards Kenma, giving the other boys a tight-lipped smile. Kenma sits on one of the benches, drinking from his water bottle as a sheen layer of sweat rolls down from his forehead. When you stand in front of him, he sets his water bottle to the side and stares at you, mouth slightly parted open. 

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. He takes them silently, staring at them, and you decide to take this as your chance to escape. Quickly turning on your heel, you half-race out of the gym, feeling your face burn with embarrassment once again. And then you press your back against the gym's wall, catching your breath as your cheeks burn. But then you smile, a small laugh falling from your lips. You did it. 

═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Kenma isn't a fan of birthdays. He'll endure his friend's birthdays and he'll even help with the surprise parties, but there's something about them that makes his stomach churn. Especially when it's his birthday. He's not the biggest fan of celebrating his birthday and he tries to avoid it when he can, but of course, Kuroo won't let it slip by this year.

He's barely arrived at the gym and Kenma frowns as he notices that no one's here yet. The gymnasium is dark and empty, and he wonders if he missed a memo or something. Did they not have practice today? 

He sighs, dropping his gym bag on the ground. He'll wait a few minutes, maybe he's early today? But then he hears something shuffle, and he freezes. What was that....?

Then a grumble. Kenma raises a brow, both confused and wary. Is there a ghost or are his teammates pranking him? Neither outcomes sound pleasant.

"...Who's there?"

A sigh. And then, before Kenma can brace himself, the entire volleyball team jumps from the bleachers, shouting eagerly. 

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Jesus Christ! Kenma jumps in his spot, heart thundering as he processes the situation. Okay, so not a ghost. Just his teammates being annoying as usual. Kuroo and Lev are grinning like doofuses, holding a banner that says, 'Happy Birthday Kenma!' Kai holds an apple pie in his hands, a serene smile on his face, Yaku holds the other end of the banner, and the rest of the first and second years hold balloons and throw streamers into the air.

All of this, just for him? 

"What's this?" Kenma murmurs, still wracking his brain as he tries to process his emotions. Lev's about to open his mouth, but Yaku reaches over and slaps his hand over the Russian's mouth, a forced smile on his lips.

Kuroo clears his throat, beaming. "Just a surprise celebration! We wanted to do something special. You don't turn seventeen every day."

And Kenma feels his chest warm, and there's a smile that's threatening to break onto his face, but he holds it back and gives them a small smile, not sure if he can handle so many emotions.

"...Thank you." And he is, he feels thankful and only feels even more thankful as his friends cheer and suddenly rush towards him, embracing him tightly in his arms. He can't help the laugh that leaves his lips and feels serene. Kenma's never been a fan of his birthday, but his friends make it a little bit better. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

The team quickly calms down and begins practice, a few laps, then practicing their spikes and receives. Kenma walks over to the benches and takes a seat as he drinks from his water bottle when the gym doors creak open.

Everyone turns to look at the intruder, and Kenma's stomach squirms. It's you again. And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, and he hates the way it makes him feel.

It's dead silent, and you stand at the door for a second before quickly walking towards him, and Kenma's heart pounds even louder. He doesn't understand you. Why do you pursue him so much? You're cute, he can't deny it. So why, out of all the people in Nekoma High, did you chase after him? And why is it making his heart go wild?

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. A freshly baked apple pie that smells absolutely delicious, and a large red gift bag. 

Oh wow... He's speechless. He doesn't know what to say. It feels like with the surprise celebration, and it feels like too much. What is he supposed to say? But before he can even regain his composure, you're rushing out of the gym, and Kenma's stomach churns. Oh... 

Once the gym doors close with a loud slam, the entire team turns to look at him. They blink, and then they leap. Kenma yelps as the entire team rush towards him, yapping and all of them speaking at the same time.

"Lemme see what she got you!"

"Y/N L/N is so adorable!"

"Kenma, have you secretly been dating Y/N this entire time?!" Fukunaga pipes in, and Kenma finds his face heating up as his eyes widen.

"What?! Of course not!" And then Kuroo's snickering as he sits next to Kenma, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"She's a sweet girl. Why don't you give her a chance?"

He lets out a shaky breath, his poor heart barely handling all the commotion. Kenma definitely needs at least one hour of cuddling with his white kitten after school to recover from all this. He blocks out what his friends say as his thoughts drift off, and he furrows his brows. 

Wait a minute. How did you know he likes apple pie?

A/N: Hey!! I hope you enjoyed the first half of this one-shot :)) I totally did not speedrun it 1-2 days before the collab event was live 😭😭I’ve been busy with school and just life in general so I haven’t had much time to write tbh. And plus I’m lazy :,) but anyway! I hoped you enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it :DD The 2nd and final part of this one-shot will be out this week!

Please REBLOG, like + comment if you enjoyed! <3 

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

[gavinsdeviant]

Be alright

Thanks to my closest mutual for swapping stories with me. You help me so much bestie @thesunandmoons-blog . Love that I met someone like you!!! 

cw/tw- burnout ig and an exhausted freelancer

word count- 620

fandom- RedactedASMR

pair- D.A.M.N polycule (Hux, Damien, Gavin and Lasko)

Freelancer shut the door behind them with a click. 

Lasko had decided to work from home for the day since his allergies tended to worsen this time of year. He was around here somewhere and they didn't want to distract him.

They blink, eyes burning. They were exhausted from their day at the academy and they knew they'd crash if they didn't take a break. 

They were at least that self aware by now. 

"Carve some time out for yourself. Take a rest," Huxley always said as he hugged them to his chest the second he got home. Those words always came at the right time, whether he knew it or not.

"Hello?" came his shaky voice from the living room. They lean against the doorframe, closing their eyes against their need to stay awake. 

"Oh. Hey Freelancer," they can hear the smile in his voice even before they bend down to press a kiss to his cheek.

"How was your day?" his soft eyes take them in.  

"It was good. I still need to get a few things done, but overall, it was a very productive day." They weren't lying, they just weren't explaining much.

He doesn't question them as he takes their hand. 

"Do you know when the others are coming home?" he asks instead, tugging them to sit beside him. They do.

"Hux is at practice. Damien and Gav will probably be here soon," they explain.  

Before he can say anything else they shoot up from the couch, mumbling something about studying before disappearing into their bedroom.

30 minutes later

Everyone gathers in the living room, except Freelancer, the room a tangled mess or nerves and concern.

"Are they okay?" Damien asks, arms crossed in front of his chest. Huxley can always appreciate his arms, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

Gav can sense everyone is on edge and that, he simply won't allow.

"Hux and Damien, could you guys please wait in the bedroom for us? And Lasko, come with me." Everyone got to work, Gavin asking Lasko to wait outside while he talks to Freelancer.

And as he steps inside, a flood of emotion hits him.

Relief at seeing him, yes, but that wasn't all. It never was.

There was frustration and hurt and sadness, and he wanted to make it all better. 

They were bent over their computer, shoulders hunched. 

"Deviant," he says, soft. "Come with me." He can see they want to protest, but he isn't taking no for an answer. Lasko appears behind him, taking Gavin's hand in his and squeezing.

"We just want you to be happy and healthy," he says, moving to his knees at their side. 

"I love you guys," they say, voice thick. 

They slowly get up and allow the incubus to lead them to the bedroom that the five of them share.

They always studied in the spare room, not to disturb the others and to hide at the worst of times. 

When they step into the room, Damien and Hux wrap their arms around the Freelancer and they break down in tears. "Take a rest," the earth elemental whispers into the crook of their neck.

And they do, getting into bed still fully clothed, Huxley at their back, Gavin at their front and everyone else enveloped in the warmth of the others. 

"We want you feeling okay," they hear Damien say. 

"We love you so much, it's hard to think about sometimes," Hux says. 

Gav wraps an arm around them.

"You will be alright. And if you aren't, then we will fix it. Together."

"Together," they whisper as they doze off, content in the quiet. In the unconditional love they all share.