#like buddy… i don’t think god DOES that for people

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,�� we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 27: Seldom

Not often; infrequently or rarely.

[slowlyfoggydestiny]

Soo it happen again huh

[poetic-mac-n-cheese]

The next person to aggressively he/him my potential future partner will be ritually sacrificed

[sniffle-bird]

so many people hate eurylochus to like. an insane degree. because they think everything he does are acts of self preservation and it’s NOT it’s preservation of the CREW because he’s the voice of the crew RRRASWRRRR

odysseus, polities and eurylochus were such good buddies and worked so well together because odysseus lead them, polities kept high spirits (this makes him sound like a cheerleader. but like idk how else to describe it? he like encourages whimsy. idk.) and eurylochus kept both of them grounded so they wouldn’t do anything stupid. and it was perfect until polities died.

without polities, the crew couldn’t find the positives in odysseus going up to the island to meet with aeolus. it was only eurylochus arguing his opinion, which is, “don’t go, it’s stupid,” literally, physically grounding him. obviously this was going to sway the crew in his favour immensely. eurylochus is like 10x more approachable than odysseus to the crew. eury’s their buddy. ody is the champion of a goddess and their king. so not only does ody then not have that extra polities voice in the argument to help lead ody to a logical conclusion which benefits everyone, he is instead clashing with eurylochus and subsequently the rest of his crew. this pretty much goes the same way for most of the other disagreements they have for the rest of the journey.

eurylochus is also forced to fill in the space that polities left in supporting odysseus as he’s their captain, but he struggles with bridging the gap between seeing him as his captain/king and seeing him as his friend. which is why he switches between calling him, “captain/sir,” to “odysseus,” to “ody,” during mutiny, and then back to “captain.” it’s a verbalisation of his view on odysseus.

so when it comes to opening the windbag, the crew is already on edge about it. he went up alone after fighting with the closest friend he has left in the crew, refuses to open the bag, the winions are all telling them it’s treasure. and there is such a blatant lack of trust between them that likely wasn’t present before; ody would rather stay awake for nine days straight than trust eury not to open the bag. and eurylochus, being naturally mistrusting of gods and mythical creatures in general, would not trust the origins of this bag. he would not trust his friend’s behaviour to be true. he would likely make the connection that the wind bag is making him act like this, so he takes it from him and opens it. not mentioning the insane pressure from the crew he’s likely been put under.

so yeah. people love to paint him as this evil-doer that was trying to usurp odysseus from the beginning but the mutiny only happened because everyone could tell ody was losing himself to this whole “monster” thing, which is what they needed to get home with as many men as possible, but nobody else is likely going to fully realise that unless you sit them down and explain to them the whole process of the journey and explain every little detail in everything that happened. much less eurylochus who is, as established, very stubborn, and very mistrusting of things he does not understand. he didn’t think ody was fit to lead anymore; it wasn’t that he sacrificed six men to scylla, it’s that he just did it and didn’t think of any alternative plan. he didn’t consult anyone else, he just did it. eurylochus could see he was driving himself a little crazy over getting home to his wife. like i’m sure there would’ve been some people who would have volunteered to hold the torches if they all held a big meeting.

and then the cow. how does nobody realise killing helios’s cows is a suicide attempt? eurylochus knew they were going to die, he did not believe they were going to make it home, at least with the cows he can control it and at least his crew won’t die hungry.

anyways. this is a huge wall of text. i know eurylochus haters HATE to see me coming, i’m his no. 1 defender and apologist he does no wrong.

[luveline]

Oooooo carmy request: him being jealous of readers friendship w richie cos they re like buddys and he thinks she doesn't like him cos shes not like that w him

—you realise what Carmy wants from you. fem, 1.4k

Richie isn’t technically an upstanding citizen, but he’s a good guy. 

“I’m telling you, sweetheart, you just need to be more aggressive.” 

You’re sitting on a stool behind the counter filling the ketchup and mayonnaise bottles with the huge ones from the walk-in. Richie isn’t doing much of anything, which is fine by you; he’s good entertainment for a shitty job. 

“I don’t want to be more aggressive, I want people to be nicer.” 

“We don’t get what we want,” he mutters. 

You frown expressively. “Aw, baby, we don’t get what we want. You don’t get what you want, huh?” 

“What’s your problem?” he asks, though he laughs brightly. “You’re the fucking baby. You’re not doing that right.” 

You point at your extremely slow drip of ketchup. “No, you think? I know I’m doing it wrong, Richie. Doing it right is a lot of arm effort. Have you seen my arms?” 

“You’ve got muscle.” Richie lifts your arm up by the wrist. “Flex. Flex your arm.” 

“I’m flexing. You can’t see that?” 

“What are you guys doing?” Carmy asks. 

He comes up behind Richie and they’re almost twins. Not in appearance —Carmy’s lighter facially and broader physically— but in stance, their mussed up aprons and the rags on their shoulders a uniform. 

You flex. “Weight training.” 

Richie drops your arm. “I’m showing her how to fill the sauce bottles.” 

“And you didn’t know how to do that?” Carmy asks you. 

“I’m the one that taught Richie.” You absolutely didn’t teach Richie how to do it, that much is obvious. Richie laughs heartily, and Carmy frowns, and you realise that Richie thinks you’re both laughing at Carmy, which isn’t what was happening. Not totally. 

It’s hard to navigate The Beef without Mikey; Carmy is nothing like his brother, and Richie’s an asshole. 

Carmy nods at you. You’re worried his lip is gonna curl like it does when he’s mad and you’re gonna get told to do something you’re uninterested in, but it’s Richie who gets punished. “Can you finish Sydney’s prep?” 

“Why can’t she do it?” 

“Her stomach thing. It’s just onions.” 

Richie wants to argue, but can’t. He’s paid a wage to work. “Fine. But tell Syd I’m not her gopher.” 

Richie saunters away. 

“He’s not her gopher,” you tease when he’s out of earshot, to Carmy’s surprised delight. “God, Carm, don’t you know anything?” 

Your Richie impression isn’t your best. Carmy must enjoy it, still smiling to himself as his attention is turned to the register, where he begins wiping down the keys. 

“Is that really the way to do that?” he asks, gesturing to your sauce bottles. 

You’ve turned the cap upside down, feeding sauce into the bottle one drip at a time. It would be quicker to remove the cap entirely and pour straight from the big bottle, but that sometimes requires three hands, the big jugs are that heavy. 

“Despite what you might think, Carm, I’ve thought it through.” 

“You sure?” 

You could get defensive. When Carmy first took over the restaurant, you thought, What the fuck, Mikey. Leave your shithole restaurant to your world class brother and get your entire roster of staff fired in one fell swoop. But Carmy never fired you, hasn’t cut your hours, doesn’t treat you like an asshole. He is a jerk, that much is certain during busy dinner service, but he has yet to take it too far. (Ish.)

So you won’t defend your laziness, or expect him to like it. You get up from your stool and turn the cap right side up, tapping what’s yet to drip through the spout into the bottle. You set the cap aside, and you uncap the big ketchup to decant sauce until the bottle is full. 

Carmy glances at you from the corner of your eye. He looks at you, looks away again. 

You think he might like you. In the don’t have a choice, grown on him like moss way. He gets cagey when you and Richie are having fun, and he stares altogether too much, but he can be pretty when he’s smiling (or really yelling) and he has nice hands, and nice arms. He has a nice way of saying things. You don’t mind his attention.

There have been worse bosses to want to push you up against a wall. 

Not that you think Carmy could. He whines like a bitch at you for stupid shit, but Carmen Berzatto shoving you into a wall for a rough kiss? That’s never gonna happen. 

And yet… his frown tells a different story. 

“Why do you get so weird about me and Richie?” you ask. 

“I don’t get weird about you and Richie.” 

You open the mayonnaise bottle and set the cap aside. “He’s nicer than you think.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds vaguely depressed, which isn’t uncharacteristic. Seriousness colours his voice with a strange charm. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

“He is, he makes me laugh. He makes sure I eat, he shouts at guys when they’re mean to me.” 

“Who’s mean to you?” 

“Carmy.” You give up on the mayonnaise and wipe your hands down your apron, to his ire. You’d prefer not to smell like egg and oil during this conversation, but it’s better than smelling like burnt chicken, sort of. “Richie’s a nice guy, whether you agree or not.” 

“That’s great, I’m glad he’s so nice to you.” He sounds angry now, but he’s stuck as you are —walking away is losing. 

You really don’t get it. “Is he not supposed to be nice to me?” you ask. 

“He can do what he wants. You can do what you want.”

You laugh, and hope to diffuse the situation with a joke, “Okay, thanks for your permission, Chef.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He sounds less tense, but not fixed. And you might find it harder to keep up with him, constantly wanting to impress him, knowing you can’t, but you’re not out of touch. You aren’t a huge dick. 

Carmy beats you to it. “I was kidding, about the bottles. You can do it how you want.” 

“I wasn’t offended.” 

“But you don’t– with Richie, you– I don’t know what I’m doing wrong with you.” 

You look him up and down, lengths of his arms, tattoos and the cut over his elbow. His clean t-shirt, his neck, the strong line of his nose and his bright eyes. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” you say, smiling at him, knowing your expression says lots of weird stuff. 

Working here in the kitchen makes a busy atmosphere normal. Richie’s telling a story at the top of his lungs, Angel’s swearing about a dropped plate, knives scratch on boards and ovens hum. Being overwhelmed is something you’re good at, and big feelings don’t scare you. 

“You’re jealous of Richie?” you ask, playfully pitying. “Get it together.” 

“Fuck off,” he says again. 

“Seriously? Richie Jerimovich. He’s telling Tina a story right now about how the last date he went on ended with her asking if he’d ever been abducted by aliens.” 

“I’m not jealous of Richie.” 

“No, I don’t think you are,” you say, taking a step too close, and refusing to take the step back. 

Carmy doesn’t look mad anymore. 

You wonder if anybody’s ever held his hand. You used to think he must’ve had a ton of girlfriends, he got so famous everywhere he went, but… He looks like he’s never been this close to someone before. Like you’re making him nervous. 

“Me and Richie are friends,” you say quietly. “Is that what you want us to be?” 

His hand twitches at his side. 

“There, cousin, I cut the fucking onions. You happy?” Richie asks, and laughs as he steps back out to the front of house, unaware of the tension. “That’d be the day, right?” 

“Yes, Richie, I’m happy you did your job. Thank you.” 

“Was that hard for you, baby?” you ask Richie with a pout. “Here, let me kiss your poor hands.” 

Richie gives you the bird with both of them. 

You look to Carmy. Making fun of Richie together isn’t quite as good as holding hands, but you hope it’s a start. 

Carmy catches on, can’t hide his grin, “There’s tylenol in the office if you need it, cousin.”  

“Are your wrists feeling tender?” you prompt. “Or is that motion one you’re used to?” 

Carmy laughs and the sound takes on the shape of his smile, nearly giddy. 

“Fuck both of you.” 

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[jadeactuallysucks]

Idc what people say I loved seeing him a terrorist. He’s exactly how I would’ve imagined someone outside of his perspective seeing him

Also doing research on Azrael Angel of Death I can’t tell if he’s supposed to be a fallen Angel or just an Angel but I don’t know religion that well

More stuff I wanna say

With all of you chosen defenders out there saying it was dark who killed mitsi, nahhh we need A train Chosen, I’m calling him over during valentines. Ruin some relationships. Including yours. How is it not a surprise he kills people?He’s quite literally made to be a weapon with all the powers and violent tendencies.

And he was absolutely at fault for making dark a terrorist too no complaint about it. Very hedonistic ideology in which the two of them could do whatever they wanted. In which the world was their sandbox. Up to interpretation

Obviously I view chosen, especially my version of him, different than others. Some of you sickos are treating him nicely!!!!

Low-key mitsi didn’t need to be in the story at all. Just tweak a bit, and also the box would’ve been a lot more callous, instead of agent and victim hating chosen for killing their fridged gf, I would’ve loved the more controversial morals of victim hurting chosen for whatever justification he wanted to come up with. And like there’s too much of a pattern with killing off characters for the sake of plot. I think dark is a good exception cause he was a rabid dog and needed to be put down sorry dark lovers also not sorry cry

I liked that ambiguity, I know most people like stuff spelled out for them with backstories but I like mysteries cause that’s how fanart and fics can be made. Some stuff does need to be explained like how victim escaped and founded rocketcorp which I get.

Oh yeah agent 😛😛😛😛 smash smash smash I see why victim is on the bisexual dance floor he’s amazing. And I don’t need merc backstories, I can just guess he recruited work buddies or just buddies

First part and terrorism parts my favourite scenes, can’t wait for Ava 12 to make or break my interest haha. The box will forever remain my favourite episode the glaze is real

Oh my god victim getting tortured during the first scene. By far the best part (except chosen and dark) in the episode. Kicking and giggling seeing him get revived after being unsaved. I feel like it kinda one ups Chosen’s trauma so I definitely hope that stupid shit gets it worse than victim. Honestly this is the stuff I want left out. I want to imagine the pain he went through rather than see it. Cause even after that he still forgives his tormentor like a dog crawling back to its owner

Uhhh also I have a big complaint about women (sorry women) I don’t like the stereotypes. I don’t need to know they’re a women by the colour pink or long hair. But this is me screaming at a wall cause I watch the same thing kids watch and the main audience is children. I need more characters like blue. Where you can’t tell if they’re a girl or not and you don’t need to care cause they’ll be taking performance enhancing drugs either way

These were all made in the moment so yk agree to disagree. I can’t get myself to hate the episode like how other people manage to do. I guess it’s just cause I stuck around for a year to see this. And I’m sticking around 3 MORE SEASONS BABY

Also like this is a good day for multi fandom me. Al of the stuff I watch is getting new stuff. Like omg Ava, then walten files, then interloper and digital circus and prolly more but I can’t count as you can tell I can only count to four

[tender-rosiey]

swear on love — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am alive!! better late than never but here’s my gojo coming back drabble (ceo gojo has been thrown into a corner)

something your son has learned is that if his dad, satoru, swears on his love for you then he will never break that promise.

like the first time he had asked his dad to take him to the amusement park he saw on the tv, satoru beamed, ruffling his son’s hair and telling him that he will.

when your son told him to promise him, satoru instead said, “I swear on my love for your pretty mama that I will take you there.”

it makes you flustered and makes your heart flutter—maybe even cringe a little, but who complains about having a man down bad for them plus he somehow makes it cute.

in addition to that, satoru never fails to look at you whenever he makes that promise and god knows that his gaze makes you feel weak in the knees.

he also goes to you right after, almost by instinct, to hug you and call you his ‘pretty wife’ and the ‘mother of his child’ — ‘and future ones’ he adds, but you’re quick to smack him when he does.

nonetheless, your son was quick to learn that it was the only type of promise his dad wouldn’t break.

it was october 31 when your husband has last made a promise to his son.

while the three of you were chilling in the living room, satoru was suddenly called for. he had to go to shibuya. your son was bummed, of course, but reluctantly let go of him.

“I won’t take any time buddy, don’t worry,” he said, patting your son’s head.

your son squirmed a bit before speaking up, softly, “you will come back safely, right?”

satoru simply noded with a smile.

your son, pouting –something he definitely inherited from his dad—looked up to him and stuck his pinky finger out, “you promise?”

your husband only chuckled, “I swear on my love for mama, champ.”

your son’s grin was unrivalled as he gave his dad thumbs up, “okay! I trust you!”

before departing, satoru took you in his arms and gave you one last kiss, giving you a promise of your own of coming back soon.

it has been 19 days since then.

everything has gone to chaos; everything was going wrong in all the possible ways. people you care about were dying left and right and the only thing you could do was protect your son with everything you got.

you’re often reminded of the time when your son had asked you, a week after his dad had been stuck in the prison realm, “mama, did dad break his promise?”

you could only smile sadly at him and whisper, “no, honey, he is just—going to fulfil it a bit late this time.”

now, you were with yuji, toge, shoko, and angel, along with some others, to finally get satoru of the prison realm.

yuji was a bit nervous and asked, “what if it…doesn’t work? or something happens—“

“don’t say that!”

all heads turn to your son who is barely holding his tears back, “dad said that he will be back! he promised me! he never breaks his promises!”

he looks at you, eyes pleading for assurance, “you know that, right, mama?”

tears of your own threaten to spill as you nod weakly at your son who runs and hugs you tightly, mumbling, “daddy will be back safely; I know it.”

you smile and pat his head, “I trust both of you.”

when they finally go through with the opening of the prison realm, it disappears right away.

your son’s grip on your shirt tightens as his eyes search frantically for his father everywhere around him, “where is he…?”

meanwhile, kenjaku smiles menacingly while looking at gojo, the newly freed man, “your wife and son must be pleased that you’re back, huh?”'

gojo smirks, “as am I, but I think it’s none of your business.”

both stare into each other before gojo quips, turning his back to the man, “well, I will meet you on december then!”

“oh? why is that?”

gojo stretches and walks to pick a few flowers. kenjaku is left confused as he watches the white-haired sorcerer make a bouquet.

“to put it simply, my wife and son are more important than you,” he smiles, “and I wouldn’t want to have two anniversary deaths on the same day.”

kenjaku cackles, “so you think you will win?”

satoru grins, “I will win.”

and without a word, he teleports to you.

“hey sweets!—“

you punch him in the guts and he yelps, “that’s not how you greet your husband—“

you then pull him into a very tight embrace, cutting him off once again, “I thought I lost you, asshole.”

you fist his shirt in your hand and bury your face in his chest before full on sobs escape you.

gojo’s eyes soften and he starts rubbing your back soothingly, “didn’t believe I would come back? you wound me doll.”

satoru nudges you lightly, “what do you think of the bouquet?”

you look at it and fondly roll your eyes.

he’s back.

your son runs to him screaming, “dad, you’re back! you’re back! I knew you would! i told them, but no one believed me!”

your husband picks your son up with his free arm and rests his forehead on his, “thanks for trusting me; sorry for keeping you wait.”

he’s here.

you shake your head, lightly, before nuzzling into his chest, “it’s okay…you’re here.”

“mama is right!”

satoru kisses both your foreheads before whispering, “I am here.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspenguin- @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will domain expansion yo ass

[bandgie]

Only if You Say Yes | Armageddon Event

Request: Pride | Park Sunghoon (ENHA) by anon song!

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, college au, jealousy (mutual), hurt/comfort, fwb→lover/exes→lovers (depends how you look at it), alcohol mentions (no one is drunk) reader makes out with Jake, sunghoon is a bit of an asshole and controlling lol, PIV, no protection, failed pull-out method, make-up sex, semi-dom reader, cowgirl, brief fingering

notes! I kinda went off im sorry. trying out the angst I guess. last rec of the event!! (thank god)

5.4k words

It doesn’t bother you at all. Not how her hands caress his shoulders and pull him closer. Not how he leans into her touch, a shit-eating grin on his lips like he knows you’re watching. Even if they’re practically glued to each other on the couch, acting as if they’re anything more than fuck buddies - it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

The reason your chest aches and your face feels hot is because of the alcohol. Jungle juice from college parties never sits right with you. This drink isn’t an expectation, but shit, you didn’t think it’d make your heart race.

“Fucking creep.” Sunoo sneers unashamedly. “Look at Sunghoon, looking at you like that bitch isn’t sucking off his face. I hate that guy.” He looks at you, an eyebrow arched and pouty lips forming a frown. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him.”

Hooking up with him would be an understatement. Sunghoon is a good lay, a great lay if you want to be honest. He was as good with his words as he was with his dick. You knew nothing would ever blossom beyond a good fuck, but damn. Why does he have to keep eyeing you like he knows?

“It’s whatever.” You shrug, eyes moving to the sea of people in the cramped apartment. “I don’t care.”

But Sunoo knows better, the smile settling on his lips says it all. “Right. Well, I think you should get your freak on girl. You’re having dick withdrawals. It’s bad for the heart…and pussy.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes despite a grin creeping on your lips. “Oh my god. You’re stupid.” Sunoo laughs with you, his pretty eyes turning into moon crescents. It makes you feel lighter like Sunghoon’s stare is nothing more than a fly buzzing around you. “But I think I’m done with hookups for a while. I have assignments to do and shit.”

“Ugh! Babe, you’re such a stick in the mud. Just a quick little make-out never hurt anyone.” He wiggles his eyes suggestively. “Could also make a little someone jealous.”

When you roll your eyes again, it’s pure irritation. “Anywho, I wouldn’t even know who with. Unless this is your way of asking me, and if so, I accept.” You pucker your lips, closing your eyes and leaning in only to be met with the palm of Sunoo’s smooth hand.

“Ew! Bitch, be serious. You know damn well you are not my type. I’m talking about Jake!”

That makes your eyes open and tilt your head so look at your friend. “Jake? I don’t think we’re very uh…compatible.”

Sunoo’s gaze fixes behind you. His hand lowers to his side and he smirks. “Guess we’re about to find out. Hey Jake!”

Speak of the fucking devil.

He comes from behind, and the sound of his heavy shoes echo like an omen. Jake nods in acknowledgment to Sunoo, eyes bouncing between you both. “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you two here.”

The black shirt clings to him nicely, the outline of his pecs visible. He wears a silver chain around his neck that only accentuates his jawline. And when he smiles, he directs it at you. “Especially you. I thought you’d be too busy moping.”

A look of shock ripples through you. It takes a few blinks and the awkward opening and closing of your mouth before you say, “W-what? Why?”

Jake looks confused for a second. He turns to the couch at the other side of the room where Sunghoon is now squished between two girls.

You take a swig of the burning alcohol. 

“Weren’t you guys dating or something?”

Sunoo snorts, quickly covering his mouth and pinching his nose. You look at him, but his eyes tell you that he hasn’t said a peep about anything. You look back to Jake. “No? Where did you hear that from?”

More confusion etches on his masculine features. “Uh…Sunghoon?”

This time, Sunoo can’t contain his laughter. His giggles cause the people around him to look, but all you can focus on is the sincerity in Jake’s words. “What?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Sunoo’s face is flushed. “I need a drink.” Before you could even hold him captive, your friend quickly weaves through the drunk swarm of bodies to leave you and Jake.

Whatever. “What do you mean he said we were dating?”

“Okay, he didn’t use that word, but pretty much. I don’t wanna say too much, but he was basically acting like you two were an item.”

You shake your head. “Bullshit. Is that why he’s about to have a threesome on the couch right now?”

Jake sighs. “Well, now it’s different. He didn’t really tell me much other than that you dumped him-”

“We weren’t even dating.”

“Fine. That you told him to buzz off and he’s just trying to find a rebound. Listen, I know you don’t believe me, but Sunghoon was really…into you. He stopped hooking up with other people when he started seeing you.”

You hate the way your heart clenches. Like him keeping it in his pants is something romantic. “I…I don’t believe you.”

Jake shrugs. “I know. Sunghoon is a bit too prideful to admit when he likes someone. Sorry you had to put up with him.”

Despite the lump in your throat, you give a weak smile. “I did it to myself. I should have known. But if you’re really sorry, you should make out with me.”

Jake laughs with nervousness. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Hardly. This tastes like shit.” You wave the cup in the air, causing the liquid to slosh inside. “I’m being serious. About kissing. I think I need a rebound too.”

Most men are put off by the idea of having seconds, but Jake isn’t most men. “But me? You know I’ve been friends with Sunghoon since high school, right?”

You nod, trying so hard to hide the smile coming on your lips.

Jake grins widely. “Oh, I get it.” He leans down, an arm propping up on the counter and tilting his head so his mouth perfectly aligns with yours. He smells expensive, like not even a drop of liquor has managed to soil his clothing. “You’re too pretty to be so cruel.” But he doesn’t kiss you, not yet.

His nose touches the tip of yours and lowers until it grazes your chin. A breath gets caught in your throat when he trails over your jawline, finding the spot beneath your ear so he can whisper. “Is he looking?”

You’re almost scared to look. Jake places his hand on your waist to give an encouraging squeeze, but to most, it seems like he’s feeling you up.

And when you find the courage to glance at Sunghoon, that’s exactly what he’s thinking now. Even from across the room, you can see his pupils blown wide. He’s stiff despite the girls chatting and kissing on his neck. They’re trying to tug him back onto the couch, their glossy lips pouting and pleading, but Sunghoon looks as though he’s about to run to you.

“Is he?” Jake’s accent snaps you back. You’re now conscious of his lips brushing your neck, how he switches from one side to the other to give the illusion of leaving you marks.

And shit, with how his fingers dig into your back, you kind of wish he would.

“Y-yeah. He looks pissed.”

You can feel how Jake’s chest rumbles with laughter, vibrating your own. He pulls away from you, but not far at all. His eyes stare into yours mischievously. You nearly forget that this is the boy who gets the best grades and is on his way to valedictorian, but being Sunghoon’s friend also means he likes to think with the head in his pants too.

“Good. Let’s give him something to get real mad at, yeah?”

And when he leans in, you welcome him. His head tilts down while your’s tilts up. His lips mold against yours roughly, shoving his tongue deep and exploring your taste.

You let out a squeak. Logically, it’s better to start hot and heavy. Make Sunghoon see how desperate you are for each other, but you yearn for the sweet kisses Sunghoon gave you. His tongue would caress your own, coaxing it into his mouth so your spit could mingle and mix, forming strings when you pulled away.

But with Jake, you let him take full reign. There was something almost…hot letting someone have control. Jake didn’t care how your teeth clashed or if drool seeped from the corner of your mouth. He licked it back in as if he expected it, putting his tongue on yours quickly. 

It took a moment for you to catch up with him. To move your lips so you could catch his muscle between them and suck. 

He shivered. You could tell Jake wanted to keep going with how his arms wrapped around your torso and pulled you close, but he broke away. “No wonder Sunghoon’s so fucking obsessed with you.”

Sunghoon. You turn to the side, forcing Jake to land on your cheek but he quickly recovers. You scan the couch for any sign of Sunghoon, but he’s gone. The girls who swarmed him now look dejected, their annoyance clear. 

But Sunghoon, where is he? You’re distracted by Jake’s mouth leaving open kisses on your neck and throat, but even then, Sunghoon should stick out like a sore thumb. 

Jake’s lips bush over a sensitive spot and you shiver. An involuntary moan escapes your swollen lips and he eagerly laps his tongue over the skin. His teeth bite hard enough to make you whine, but that’s nothing compared to the yelp Jake lets out when he’s suddenly ripped away. 

The loss of his body leaves you cold but Sunghoon’s fired eyes make you hot all over again.

He has Jake by the back collar of his shirt. The knuckles on his first are white as if begging to turn pink and red from letting his anger out on Jake’s pretty face.

Sunghoon doesn’t even have to say a thing. The look he gives his friend is full of warning and Jake straightens up immediately, nodding and silently surrendering to Sunghoon’s piercing gaze.

“She’s all yours, bro.” And with that, he leaves you with a wink.

Maybe it’s because of the arousal and adrenaline coursing through your veins, but you’re not as scared as you were before. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Sunghoon takes a step closer, anger dripping off his tone. “You’re sucking on my best friend's face and I’m not supposed to say anything?” 

The people around you two have moved away, a wise choice. 

You cross your arms. “Obviously not. I didn’t see you having an issue when those girls were all up on you. Why is it when I do?”

Sunghoon’s face morphs into cold humor. “Oh wow. What? You wanted to make me jealous or something?”

You burn red. “I did not!”

“You so did.” It feels like a punch in the gut when he laughs. “You think I give a fuck who you wanna make out with?”

“No shit you do. You wouldn’t have pulled him off me if you didn’t.”

Sunghoon’s eyes slide to your neck, right where Jake had been sucking. You doubt it’s purple, but you can bet your money it blooms with pink. You almost want to cover it with your hand, but you rather like the way Sunghoon’s jaw ticks. 

“I’m not arguing with you here.” Before you can argue that he can at all, he pulls you by the arm. He doesn’t even bother weaving through the crowd, he bustles through it. Most people move aside, but the drunks are pushed by his shoulders and left to mourn their spilled drinks.

You catch Sunoo’s eyes. He’s got a man attached to his back, grinding against him to the beat of the music, but Sunoo doesn’t sway his hips at all. There’s worry in his eyes. 

You shake your head and mouth, It's fine.

It’s all you get to say before Sunghoon drags you into the nearest room and shuts the door. Neither of you knows whose pad this is, the posters on the wall say it all. But Sunghoon walks around the room like he owns it.

Cocky bastard.

“I don’t want you around him again,” Sunhoon speaks with authority. “Don’t give me that shit and say you like him. I know damn well you don’t.”

You put your weight on one hip and huff. “And if I do? What? You’re gonna forbid me from speaking to him?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon stops pacing. “I haven't seen you in a month. And when I do, you’re trying to get in my friend’s pants?” Something like hurt echoes in his eyes. “I hate that.”

Fuck, you’re shaking. Your core trembles and though you try to blame the sensation on Jake, you know it’s Sunghoon’s dominating aura making your stomach clench. “You don’t think I hated seeing you with those girls? Letting them kiss you like they…like they own you? But I didn’t go over there and start a catfight, did I? No. You did. Acting like you’re my fucking boyfriend or something.”

He’s seething, and shit, you’ve never been so fired up. Anger and arousal mix within. Slick moistens your underwear seeing Sunghoon stride to you. Your stomach dips when he backs you against the wall.

You almost moan when his jaw tenses. 

“I’m trying really, really hard not to yell at you right now.” Sunghoon’s lips quiver when he takes a shaky breath. “I told you I didn't want a relationship. You said that was fine. Then all of a sudden, you start getting clingy and shit. Yeah, I think it’s cute, but then you dump me. Out of nowhere, out of the blue. So yeah, I let some chicks feel up on me to feel a little bit better about myself, and who do I get to see?” His upper lip twists into a snarl. “You.”

He’s leaned in close, neck bending and eyes boring into yours. Still, that does the opposite of intimidate you. “See? That’s the fucking issue. All you ever think about is yourself. You wanted a quick fuck. You wanted a relationship without the commitment. Did you ever think about how I felt being in this…weird fucking tango? Going to places with you, going over your apartment, telling you where I was and who I was with. But when it was me asking the questions, I was the crazy one. I was too clingy. Did you think I liked hearing that?”

The realization settles on him as if he never put himself in your shoes. It makes your chest burn with anger. 

“Exactly. You’re too selfish to even think about me.”

“That’s not true.” Sunghoon is quick to shoot you down. “That’s all I ever did.” His gaze softens and his hand leaves his side. You feel the back of it graze your cheek as if you’re something gentle.

Tears sting your eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. But I know you don’t believe me.”

You recall Jake’s words. How he claimed Sunghoon chose you to be the only person he was sleeping with. It sounded improbable, but with the way he’s looking at you now, it feels like it could be true.

“But isn’t this what you would’ve wanted anyway? You get to do whatever you want without someone in your hair. The only reason it bothers you so much is because I’m the one that broke things off. You’re stupid ego couldn’t take it.”

It rings true. You see his eyes look at the floor ashamed, and you feel your heart break a little from his lack of rebuttal. 

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Your voice shakes. “Why are you so mad about me moving on?” A scoff breathes on your lips. “You’re acting as if you like me.”

You regret the words the moment they come out. Sunghoon’s entire face changes. Even the air in the room grows rigid, almost scared. His wide eyes tell you that you’re treading on dangerous territory. 

But once the lid opens, you find yourself pouring out. 

“You’ve never even said it. All this time, I was feeling like a burden. Like the thought of me other than sex was revolting to you. It sucked, but I put up with it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Because you didn’t have to!” You yell for the first time. It sounds good to finally let your emotions show even if tears flow free. “Sunghoon, what aren’t you getting? It wasn’t just sex for me, not at the end. But you…you pushed me away.” Your throat hurts so much like it’s raw from screaming. “You made me feel like I was fucking insane.”

His face blurs, but you can make out the pain in his eyes. 

“I wanna hear you say it.” You blink the tears away. “Tell me.”

But Sunghoon gulps. For the first time, this cocky asshole is stunned. You’ve seen him get his way using his charm or confidence, but right now, it looks like he’d rather claw his skin to escape.

“Jake told me. About how you ditched your hookups when we were…seeing each other.” You’re throwing Jake under the bus, but you hope he’ll understand when Sunghoon inevitably rips him a new one. “He thought we were dating. Dating, Sunghoon. You can’t tell me you only thought of us as just sex.”

Seeing him turn into a puddle makes you both anxious and assertive. It makes you want to push him to confess while running away and pretending you never even saw him tonight. 

But only one of those options is possible. “Say it.”

Sunghoon’s hand trembles on your face. His mouth can’t decide whether it wants to yell or cry, but it’s silence he screams. It deafens your ears to the point that all you can hear is your heart drumming in your chest. You think you can hear his too if you try hard enough. 

The thumping of the party downstairs is the only noise you can rely on.

“You fucking coward. I should have never said yes to you.”

Escaping his arms will be easy. Sunghoon seems too stunned to do anything, but you’re quickly proven wrong when he cages you in and presses his body against yours. You mean to push his chest and yell, but the sight of his watery eyes stops you.

He can’t look at you. It’ll make the dam he tried so hard to build break. But he’ll be damned if you leave again.

“I…I’ve never dealt with something like this.” He closes his eyes. “I’ve never had to worry about someone. They weren’t even in my head. But when I met you…” Sunghoon has to take a deep breath. You feel his inhale on your face as if he’s breathing you in.

“It was the first time I cared about someone other than myself. It…It scared me. I wanted you close, but not too close. I wanted everyone to see that you were mine, but that I wasn’t yours.” He laughs humorlessly. “That sounds so fucked to say out loud.”

“But that’s what I was thinking. I was so fucked. I am fucked. I was- I am selfish.”

Sunghoon leans in. You inhale a sharp breath but it’s his forehead that meets yours. His weight feels good, almost perfect against your own.

You’ve missed the warmth of his skin, the beauty mark next to his eye that you can see so clearly. But it’s his eyes that hold the stars. 

“Especially now, because all I’m thinking about is how I can be yours again.”

There it is, his confession. Not that you can be his, but that he can be yours. It’s so subtle that you want to pretend it doesn’t count, but you can’t deny the way your heart flutters. How you yearn to feel his kiss again even if your lips are soaked with tears.

Sunoo’s voice rings in your head. You can perfectly hear him screaming at you to laugh. Tell him that you’re flattered, but you aren’t interested.

Hurt him how he hurt you.

But that’s not who you are. No, the person you are nods, wrapping arms around his neck and finally putting your lips where they ache to be.

It’s like they never forgot. Even in the weeks he hasn’t seen you, Sunghoon knows how to kiss you. His lips are gentle, hardly eager to taste your mouth. Jake may have known how to get the party started, but Sunghoon knows how to make you feel. It’s all too easy for him to tug at your heartstrings, making you move in any way he wants like a puppeteer. 

And it seems like you can do the same.

He opens his mouth when you do. He moves his tongue in time with yours. Sunghoon lets you hold the back of his neck so you can tilt his head, getting a better angle to suck on his tongue. 

He moans into your mouth. It sounds more than pleasure, but relief. As if he’s been aching for you just as you have been for him. You almost don’t want to believe it, but you pull another whine from him when you tug on his hair. 

The taste of saliva and tears dance on your tastebuds. It feels oddly comforting, the raw taste of emotion and need on your lips. You kiss him deeper, harder, until his hands find your waist and he backs into the bed. 

He pulls away to sit down but he’s quick to yank you onto his lap.

“Still like me on top, huh?” You can’t help but recall how Sunghoon used to constantly ask you to ride him. Facing him, reversed, it didn’t matter. He had both of his hands on you constantly, whether it was groping your breasts or ass. 

He smiles, “You know I never liked doing any of the work.”

To that, you groan. Sunghoon ignores your pretend displeasure to nip at your bottom lip, pulling the skin and watching it bounce back into place. 

His lips attack your neck, kissing and sucking every inch. He gently pulls on your hair to ensure no spot is left unmarked. You can’t help but notice he focuses on the spot between your shoulder and clavicle. 

Right where Jake left the faintest blemish.

You want to tease him, but all you can do is moan. He knows that’s your favorite spot. It’s so easy to get you to tremble, to grind on his hips like you’re doing right now. The only issue is that someone else knows too.

It bothers him. You can tell from how hard he’s sucking. Gently, you push his shoulder until he lets up, salvia on his lips as his cloudy eyes lock with yours. 

“If you’re gonna be that rough, I’d rather you do it here.” Putting your hands on the hem of your shirt, you tug it off. The material slips easily. You silently thank yourself for putting something on that wasn’t so tight. 

Your bra is plain, but your breasts still look divine in them. Sunghoon doesn’t wait for you to throw your shirt on the ground to get his mouth on you. His lips are hot on your skin, his tongue even hotter. The shirt slips from your hands to pool on the floor and your fingers thread in his hair. Sunghoon takes the pulls and tugs as compliments. 

His hands trail up your waist, moving away for a brief moment to spill your breasts the cups. 

And his hips dig into your cunt when he sees your nipples are already peaked. You watch him lick his lips, watch how his brain can’t decide whether he wants to stare or taste.

The decision is made for him when you press against his face. Sunghoon cups the sides to push your boobs in his face, tongue lavishing your supple flesh. 

“Fuck.” He doesn’t bother hiding his hips rocking into yours. He used to act like sex felt mediocre, but his raging boner gave him away every time. You thought it was funny how his uninterested eyes were completely different from the precum that slid down his cock when you stroked it, but this… this makes your stomach heat with exhilaration. 

One hand remains on your breast while the other slides to your hip. He presses you down on his erection and grinds. You know he can barely feel a thing with jeans in the way, but his hot breath wafts on your nipple like he hasn’t gotten his dick touched in forever. 

But you don’t dwell on it too much. It feels good just to have him suck on your bud and hit your clit. His tongue goes around your darkened flesh before he hollows his cheeks. You moan, moving at the same pace as his hips under you. 

You’re so wet. The slick sticks to your underwear so much that dry-humping him doesn’t feel uncomfortable. You’ve felt chafing before, how sometimes it would just rub the wrong way. But with Sunghoon, nothing is ever the wrong way. All you can think about is how good it feels, so much so that getting up to pull his cock out seems distant.

But you’ve missed the feel of his hard-on. It rubs your pussy just right and it’s all too easy to find the angle you know would make you finish.

And when Sunghoon bites on your nipples and pulls, you know you’ll cum soon. 

“Wait. Wait.” You tremble in his hold. Your voice sounds too weak. You don’t think he heard you, but you feel his mouth pull off your bud and his hips cease. It takes a moment to find your words, to ignore how your cunt screams at you from pulling away when you were so close. 

“Imma cum.”

Sunghoon grins. “Is that not good?”

You shake your head, still panting. “No. Too soon. I need it inside.”

The all-too-cocky smile finds his lips. It’s the one you loathe, but with your mind hazy and cunt pulsing, you can only be glad to see it. 

It means he’ll do anything he can to keep hearing you praise him.

“Yeah? Take it out for me then.” It’s almost condescending the way he speaks. You take a mental note to never feed his ego again.

But you don’t, not right away. You stand on unsteady legs instead. The shorts clinging to your legs feel uncomfortable and you sigh in relief when unbuttoning them. You don’t bother making a show getting undressed, but Sunghoon watches like it’s award-winning.

Strings of arousal cling to your underwear when you slide them off. The cool air hits your cunt unwelcomed and you let the clothes pile with your shirt.

“Fuck, baby.” He bites on his lower lip before clenching his teeth. “You look so pretty for me.”

You shyly giggle. You suppose it’s okay if he strokes your ego.

He wants you back on his lap. You can see his eyes planning all the ways he wants to ravish you, but you have other ideas in mind. “Your turn.”

Sunghoon looks confused at first, but he quickly sees what you mean. His lips twitch, almost wanting to say, I told you to take it out for me, but he doesn’t. You see him nod, shrugging his shirt over his head and wiggling out of his jeans all on his own.

Good, he’s learning. 

Sitting back on his lap is a reward. Grabbing the base of his cock is a silent, appreciated gesture when you line him up.

Sunghoon finds your waist fast, unable to keep his hands off for even a second. He waits as you slap the tip on your clit. It elicits a hum from your lips and you look into his eyes in a daze. There’s need in them. His blown-wide pupils match your own. 

And when you sink down, he moans.

Restless hands dig into your flesh. Sunghoon doesn’t try to set a pace at all. He lets the sounds of your bodies meeting match your tempo. 

You wanted to go slow, you did. You heard his confession, you tasted his tears, so it’s obvious that you wanted to explore his body in the deepest ways he never let you. 

But with the music blasting downstairs and the adrenaline of being in someone else’s room, you can’t help but lift your ass and slam it down. The head of his cock barely has time to get acquainted with your pussy. It glides all too quickly to properly bury into your cervix. 

Not that you really mind. You can feel the veins and curve of his crown rub your walls this way. 

He leans back, propping with one elbow while the other stays on your hip. You smile when you see him looking at your breasts. They’re love-bitten, riddled with bruises that go to your neck. 

Sunghoon looks like a painter admiring his work.

“You look so fucking good.” He licks his bottom lip. “I’ve missed you.”

You burn with praise. It makes you ride faster, leaning forward so your arms cage him between them. Your hair forms a curtain around your flushed face that Sunghoon pushes away. 

Maybe it’s his eyes you’re supposed to look at, but you’re captivated by his body. His defined chest twinges with pink. His stomach clenches in pleasure, the hard lines of his abs making an appearance. 

You don’t know how you manage to push him down completely. Your hands pin his shoulders with ease and all he can do is helplessly grip your thighs as you ride him.

“Likewise.”

He lets out a strangled moan that you suppose is him laughing. Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows at the new angle. He’s able to hit you deeper this way, his cock buries in your cervix nicely.

But even with the sight of your pussy creaming around him and pooling on his pelvis, he can still playfully glare. “Asshole.”

You giggle like it’s a pet name. Expecting him to change overnight would be foolish. But even then, you somewhat like the arrogant fool you’ve fallen in love with.

So you say nothing in return. Instead, you lean closer. His lips are swollen and you suck on them. His tongue messily swipes in your mouth when you open it. The kiss is nothing more than a way to be closer, to moan into each other's mouth as Sunghoon finally moves his hips.

And it feels like everything on your body is on fire. Your knees were getting tired, the burn in your thighs barely tolerable. Now, all you have to do is hover while Sunghoon thrusts. It feels deeper than what’s possible. Like the pleasure travels from your cunt to your head.

The pain in your legs numb and the only thing on your mind is how good Sunghoon is fucking you. Your walls clench, oozing with so much release that you think he might slip out, but he doesn’t.

“Right there!” The sound below should drown out your cries, but you don’t care if anyone hears you. “Fuck me harder! Pleasepleaseplease…”

You don’t have to beg, but Sunghoon likes it when you do. Your cunt spasms and warms until the heat floods his cock. A drawn-out moan tumbles from your lips that he eats. You’re panting and whining while his tongue invades your mouth. Salvia drips from your chin, but you can’t even notice with how he’s still fucking into you.

And just when you feel lightheaded, he cums. It’s too late for him to pull out, too late to stroke himself on your face to completion. Still, he tries to save it.

Sunghoon slips out while still squirting from his tip. The strings shoot your inner thigh and his caving stomach.

He’s still breathing hard when he kisses you, ignoring how his chest screams for oxygen. And when he pulls away, the first thing he looks at is your cunt. Sunghoon should feel worried that half of his cum is in your womb, but when watches it drip from your swollen pussy, he feels proud.

“Yeah,” he says to himself. You feel deft fingers play with your folds soon after. Sunghoon laughs when you squeal from overstimulation, but he shoves the cum back in anyway. 

You almost can’t feel his fingers. Your walls are mostly numb, but you still moan and tremble from his knuckles gliding in and out of you.

He buries his digits until all they can do is wiggle. “Keep it in. I want you to walk out of here with my cum dripping out.”

If you had more energy, you’d groan. Seems like he still has a lot to learn.

[getmeoutofhell]

Poly! ghostface x reader headcanons

WARNINGS: this contains EVERY YOUNG male ghostface. incase you’re uncomfortable leave now for your protection. this does not include richie because i can’t write two brothers dating the same person, my brain don’t work like that. 💀 this is gender neutral, so boys and girls can read. 💕✌🏾

a/n: well, let me know what y’all think. this is all for fun don’t actually date this many people at once. 😂 but remember, have fun reading and give me some feedback!! enjoy!! :)

The Beginning:

where do i begin? they all met you separately (two of them do), for starters. they wanted to get to know you personally individually, to make sure that they all thought the same about you. in the beginning of their journey, charlie was the first the introduce you to anyone, and he was the first one of them you started to like as well.

charlie would never shut up about you, constantly telling the group about you and what you did. he was obsessed with you, the color of your eyes, everything you could think of he loved it. ethan was the next to come along with charlie to meet you. oh boy, did he fall fast.

“hey y/n, this is my friend ethan.” he shakes your hand, feeling his skin against yours. “nice to meet you ethan.” as you guys talk ethan stares and stares at you, getting lost in thought constantly. in the middle of the conversation, charlie mentions the other boys and suggest you come hang out and watch a movie with them. you take a minute to think but agree and tell him to come pick you up at 8.

“she/he said yes boys!!” charlie tells the group. “thank god, can’t wait to meet him/her.” billy says. “yeah same.” stu agrees.

“he’s/she’s really pretty and has the best smile.” ethan tells them while his face gets red. “calm your dick dude. it’s your first day meeting him/her.” mickey says. “it’s my first time my brothers been in love. i’m proud of you dude.” ethan rolls his eyes at riche before heading to his room. he’s in love already?? no way! 😂

6 rolls around and charlie rushes down stairs. “listen guys! we need to cleans this fucking house up. i go get them in two damn hours and this house is disgusting!!” as soon as he said that they got up and moved around. “i’m not helping them. i already cleaned up my part of the house.” roman states. charlie nods his head before going to clean up.

it’s now 7:30 charlie will be heading to pick you up soon. “how do i look guys?” charlie asked. “you look great dude, now go pick em up.” stu chuckled. “why can’t i go with you?” ethan asks, he just really wants to see you again. “because she/he told me to come pick them up, not you buddy boy.” another eye roll comes out of ethan. “yeah whatever.”

“sorry if the place is a mess, please excuse that.” charlie then opens the door then walks you inside. “boys, this is y/n. the lovely person i was telling y’all about.” everyone tells you hello and ethan approaches you with a hug. “missed you.” “i missed you too eth.”

they made you feel comfortable within minutes of being there. you were a little taken back because you’re the only the girl there (if you’re a girl) but they changed your mind about that quickly. “do you guys have anything to drink? i’m pretty thirsty.” mickey immediately goes and gets you something. you get a little cold and ethan never got up faster in his life to get a blanket. stu was talkative you noticed, but you were there to listen to his words and laugh at his jokes. some time later you end up accidentally falling asleep on the couch, head falling on charlie’s shoulder next to you.

it’s somehow now 12 and you wake up from your nap to the boys looking at you. “oh my god. did i fall asleep, i’m so sorry. what time is it??” you try to get up but fall back down on the couch. “it’s alright beautiful. we’re glad you felt comfortable enough to even sleep over here.” roman tells you. “yeah we appreciate it.” billy says. “do you wanna sleep in my bed for the night? i’ll take the couch.” you look at mickey as he talks, you find this amazing, how they like you enough to let you sleep in their house. “thank you.”

they lead you to the bathroom to wash off your makeup (if you wear any). you then walk in his room and notice a t-shirt on the bed, with a note that says “for you :)” you thought that was the sweetest things ever!! you were so appreciative.

How You Start Dating:

time flys by and you start coming over there whenever. you come over to there place every day, to the point where you bring clothes over to stay the night. they loved your presence and loved you!!

one day the boys had asked you to come downstairs and have a talk with them. “is something wrong boys?” “well, y/n, we wanna talk to you about something.” you were a little nervous at the time, scared they might say something bad and unwanted. you really liked them, all of them…they made you feel loved and appreciated in every way. “we really like you y/n, and we was wondering if you’d like to be our girlfriend/boyfriend? i understand it sounds crazy but-“ “of course i’ll be your girlfriend/boyfriend!!” they all were stunned at your answer, but accepted it.

The Relationship Headcanons:

god they loved you like you were the only person in the world!! gifts, hugs, comfort, you name it they got it!

they help you move in and they can’t get enough of you. you’re never alone with them. but if you did want some you time they will give you it. “you’re so pretty.” “you’re an angel.” “baby, princess/prince, final girl/boy, bae.” those are just some of the words of affection they give you.

ethan & stu is just a cuddle monster in one!! they’re always up on you and against you at all times. charlie is really shy, so mostly in private will he cuddle you. roman and mickey use words of love with you. well mickey also loves cuddles. roman is definitely the most mature, which means he does things differently. he gives you letters and small gifts to show his love. billy is the most possessive of all. deep down, he’s insecure and scared you won’t like him anymore. 😟

but there is a bad side…the arguments. oh my god it took forever to control them and calm them down. one always feels left out every fucking day. it’s hard to reassure them and let them know you love all of them the same. stu loves his daily cuddles and has to have them. “stu move the hell over, your hogging her/him for fucks sake!” billy is secretly jealous and sometimes wants you all to himself. “billy, it’s okay love, i’m right here. no need to be jealous.” he then goes on to say that he’s not jealous when we all know that’s bullshit. but whatever i guess.

mickey films you, a lot. all day everyday. he has a plain that on christmas, he’ll show y’all the huge hour + long video he made of you. just you. no one else. these videos contain you waking up, showering, eating, going to sleep, changing, laughing, yelling & a bunch of other shit i will not disclose. 😂

they do work on their cleaning a lot more now that you’re here. every time they makes a mess and you catch them, you tell them to clean it up and they do it. they love having showers with you, even tho they all can’t fit in there, they take turns on different days!! they can’t get enough of their favorite baby boy/girl!!

they always leave little notes each morning on the fridge for you. “went out to get groceries. i love you bae! see you later ;) -stu” or one said “me + you + shower at 8 :) -mickey” it’s some of your favorite things to see from them in the morning. it also helps your mood be better for the day. they help you cook, too. well technically you help them, because they don’t know what they’re doing. roman knows a little about cooking and looks up recipes for the night. other days when you’re not cooking for them, y’all are ordering takeout or going somewhere to eat.

it’s such a disaster going out to eat with them, let alone they all have to ride in the same vehicle. they argue about who gets to sit by you and what music to put on the radio…it’s a bunch of mess everywhere. “guys just fucking calm down. y/n said she’s/he’s sitting in front by me.” roman always gets the last say so in the car, considering he drives 99% of the time. he’s very specific with everything.

now this is just some of the sfw headcanons, don’t get me started on the nsfw ones…👀

[cipher-fresh]

💬 suffering-academy-student Follow

does anyone else wish u could regenerate but not change and not use up a regeneration. just like do a hard reboot

#i'm gonna call myself The Sufferer

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💫 constellationon-kasterborous Follow

what is it even like to not be a time lord do you like get impaled by rebar at 45 years old and just die. couldn't be me

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🚀 silvertraveller Follow

_____👶 timelordtoddler Follow

_____playing with a roentgen radioactive brick in the nursery rn

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🔉 gallifreyballifreyshmallifrey Follow

i love this website because its the only place you can say you have interfered with the natural flow of time and you won't get investigated by the CIA

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😉 winkles-wonderland Follow

who up lording they time

#no I don’t need to add any extra tags thanks I trust my audience will find it

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👦 theresponsibilityavoider Follow

I was skipping school hanging out in a clearing and some guy exited a portal from a CONFESSION DIAL 😭 and he was like “Go to the city. Find someone important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them, they know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask you who I am, tell them ‘I came the long way round’” 😭😭😭 what the hell

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💬 oneofthegreathouse Follow

if you have a fetish for people being born through bodily reproductive systems KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!!! nobody needs to see that on their dash

__♻️ callmeweaver Follow

__Ok Puriteen you need to get on my level. sexualize looms OR ELSE!!!!!

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💫 thecurator Follow

the high council of gallifrey: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “the timeless child” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some pre-Hartnell doctors

My buddy the Master pacing: the Time Lords are lying to us

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🏠 somegrandolgallifrey Follow

I heard some kid crying himself to sleep in a cabin. COULD not be me

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♾️ thatacademygraduate Follow

Went to a museum today! I saw a lot of really cool stuff but something I couldn’t stop thinking about was this horrifically busted up Type 40 TARDIS that literally looked like it was held together with duct tape, chewed gum and prayers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 girl kill that thing I’m so sorry….

#i think it was even still alive. please put it out of its misery for the love of rassilon

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🥽 howsitgoinghowitgoes Follow

Bruh my best friend and I tried to play a prank on my brother but it went wrong and he hit his head so badly he REGENERATED i need to go into hiding

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😐 the-hybrid Follow

Who am I

#please for the love of god help me

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🔹 thetasigma Follow

Koschei and I skipped school today and went stargazing. We agreed to visit every single one together when we leave this stupid planet. I love them so much. We're going to be together forever.

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💭 siblingofkarn Follow

Why do I keep having nightmares about Gallifrey being destroyed in like 5 different ways, that could literally never happen

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🤖 pompousandstuffy Follow

I literally hate children soooo much like today some ninety year old tried to speak to me. KILL YOURSELF THIRTEEN TIMES ‼️

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👽 cheapandnastytraveltime Follow

For a Time Lord I have such a bad sense of time. if chamelon arches were real i would make myself literally any other species

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😍 starstartwinkletwinkle Follow

I have to stare into the untempered schism tomorrow. Any advice?

[imnotditzy]

Captain Marvel vs. Hypnosis

So this post includes Billy & Marvel being separate minds but share bodies.

Anyways, imagine if some villain tried to put Captain under hypnosis? I have a few ideas on how it would go, but let’s start in order.

Only Billy is mind controlled.

It’s immediately foiled.

It’s so obvious that it just doesn’t work 90% of the time.

Okay, #1. Only Billy is mind controlled. Now, since Billy is the only like somewhat regular dude in the Captain Marvel body, I feel like he’d be the only one vulnerable to mind control. All of the gods, plus Solomon and Marvel are immune. So whenever someone tries to control Captain Marvel, Billy’s the only one affected.

This could turn into the pantheon trying to stop Billy from making any dumb choices while ridding the threat.

It would look so odd from the outside, too. Because Marvel and Billy’s control keeps fluctuating, as they fight to control their body. it would look like Captain was having a seizure or something.

Villain: Hahah! Captain Marvel is now under my control! Think of all the mayhem we will cause!

Captain: (immediately stops moving.)

WW: Captain?

Captain: (starts shaking)

Batman: Captain Marvel?

Captain (still shaking): don’t worry my fellow people this is purely temporary 🙂

Captain (internally):

Billy: Nuke the city, nuke the city! 😈

Marvel: Billy I beg of you, stop this. What even is a nuke?

Billy: Bomb the universe 👹

—

#2, it’s immediately foiled.

Like it doesn’t even last for a second. It doesn’t work on Captain Marvel, or Billy.

Villain: Now, with my miraculous mind control powers, Captain Marvel along with the rest of the Justice League are no match for me! Villain puts hands against their head and does the circular ray thing, aiming for Captain Marvel.

Flash: Watch out, Cap!

Captain (Was busy listening to Atlas get ganged up on): Huh?

Captain gets hit by the ray.

Captain: Yeesh! My brain feels oddly itchy. Villain: You don’t feel…differently? Like the need to destroy the Justice League?

Captain (Perfectly fine): No..? Should I? Villain: But…that’s impossible! He should be under my control!

GL: Doesn’t seem like he is, buddy. Now you’re off to jail.

—

#3, it’s so obvious it’s immediately foiled.

This one is loosely based on the Fawcettoon hc, but it’s just Captain being a bit silly.

What I mean by this is, is whenever Captain’s under mind control they get like the black and white spiral eye thing from the cartoons. The optical illusion? Imagine if each time Captain is hypnotized it’s just that, and it’s so incredibly obvious that villains can’t even pretend to be Captain Marvel because the eyes are a dead giveaway. So now, the only times Captain is mind controlled isn’t to gather intel, but to fight or nab things.

[chilschuck]

Chilchuck is canonically very warm and perfect cuddle size! Izutsumi uses him as a cuddle buddy/sleep partner for this (he got annoyed and tried to send her to someone else, but after trying all the other members and Laios petting her, Chilchuck had her come back and accepted his life as a cat bed. he is a Dad through and through.)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT HOW CANONICALLY CUDDLY HE IS I MELT. WAHHHH ANON i think about this so much. also him accepting his life as a cat bed and just being so Dad about it makes me insane. like i said earlier this man is detrimental to my health. speaking of this!!! here’s some thoughts hehe

— CHILCHUCK: cuddle hcs.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw fluff + gn!reader.

✦ If you’re a cold-natured person, Chilchuck is a blessing to have. You already knew he was apparently very warm due to how much Izutsumi enjoys seeking him out, so you let your thoughts wonder. The first time you asked to share his bedroll with him, you couldn’t help but be amused at his reaction. (To say you caught him off-guard was an understatement.)

✦ After he recovered from his coughing spell at your request, he flustered. Great, so now he’s becoming the party’s new teddy bear? No thanks. But then you made that expression that always made him weak in the knees and chest and gods. He bites his tongue, letting out a defeated sigh. Maybe just this once. You did tend to get cold a lot…

✦ If you’re a tall-man, (or just have a height advantage over him, lol) you wonder what it would be like to hold him similar to how Izutsumi does. Sleeping with him so closely means odds are one of you is going to end up pulling the other in. Being the taller one, you find yourself curling up with him nuzzled into your chest. I can imagine he’s reluctant at first, but when he finally lets himself relax, he melts.

✦ If you’re a half-foot like he is, or without that height advantage, he’s the big spoon. Either that, or you end up burying yourself into his neck to steal his warmth. I can imagine Chilchuck likes to feel like a protector when it comes to you, as he’s used to having people’s lives on his shoulders. But one night, make him be the little spoon, telling him you just want to hold him for once. (Watch the high curve of his ears turn pink, lol.)

✦ Chilchuck comes to expect you cuddling with him every night. It comes time for the party to retire and he’s already subconsciously lifting his blanket for you to join him. Point it out one day and he’s sputtering out excuses with rosy cheeks. Gods, don’t think so hard about it. You’re cold, aren’t you? You’ll probably hear him grumble a good bit.

✦ He’s very mindful you’re there with him. Last thing he wants is to be a lackluster cuddle partner. And to accidentally make you stop coming to his bedroll.

✦ Probably the deepest sleep he’s gotten in a while. You just make him feel so relaxed, and the physical touch and affection is something he’s been craving for so long. Don’t expect him to admit that to you, though.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

Chapter Summary: Buck faces a few challenges, and you're there for some of them.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her. 

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times. 

“Come in,”  Bobby says. 

You step in. He looks up. 

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.” 

You close the door and lean against it. 

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers. 

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else. 

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you. 

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out. 

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat. 

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.” 

“Fair enough,” you cede. 

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say. 

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.” 

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.” 

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says. 

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.  

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks. 

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.” 

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen. 

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers. 

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence. 

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says. 

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” 

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet. 

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact. 

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby. 

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?” 

He just looks at you. 

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone. 

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way. 

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig. 

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle. 

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues. 

“Damn,” Hen whistles. 

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle. 

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors. 

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply. 

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man. 

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous. 

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?” 

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy. 

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.” 

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.” 

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out. 

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name. 

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out. 

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it. 

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of. 

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is. 

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top. 

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios. 

You look up and shake your head. 

“We lost him,” Chim radios back. 

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies. 

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck. 

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.” 

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while. 

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can. 

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him. 

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier. 

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously. 

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?” 

Bobby answers for you. “No.” 

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you. 

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds. 

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?” 

“It’ll pass,” you promise. 

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago. 

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

 

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride. 

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed. 

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker. 

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.” 

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?” 

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head. 

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair. 

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. 

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly. 

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.” 

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.” 

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.” 

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone. 

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.” 

“Sounds like a copout.” 

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.” 

Ch 3

[joedirtymadre]

Imma need a part 2 of bothersome🫣🥺PLEASEEE

Bothersome - Part 2

LAW X READER!! (PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS! PLEASE! 🙏)

You stood at the edge of the ship, watching the sunset slowly set. After Punk Hazard, you all returned back to the ship. Out to Dressrosa, to help Law with whatever he was planning. “So you’re just going to ignore me?” That deep voice called out to you. You continued staring out to the sea, hearing footsteps behind you come closer. You could sense him standing next to you, staring at you.

“What’s wrong with that? You did it to me throughout our relationship,” you said softly.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Please forgive me, what I did was wrong and I don’t want this affecting the allia-“ you quickly cut him off. “Why would our past affect the alliance? Did you honestly think I haven’t moved on by now?” You laughed. “I-… No I didn’t think that, but…” he trailed off. “Don’t worry, I’ll happily accept my captain’s orders… even if it means having to be in alliance with you,” you said coldly.

You turned around and headed towards the girl’s quarters. “(Y/N), I wasn’t done speaking!” He said, as he followed me. “Ok, so what else did you have to say?” You asked as you turned back to face him. “U-Uh… well you look… nice. How have you… been?” He asked awkwardly. “You really want to have a quick catch up?” You scoffed. “Well like you said we’re in an alliance now, so we should be able to have civil conversations,” he explained. You raised an eyebrow, “Traffy, weren’t you the one that tried to explain to Luffy that an alliance doesn’t mean we’re friends?” You asked.

“Not you using that dumb name too… a-and I did but-“ you cut him off. “Exactly! Thank you for remembering! Now I’ll be off to my room,” you said as you turned back and quickly entered your room before he could stop you.

You threw yourself on your bed, “Just another example of having the worst luck ever… Now I have to see and help my ex for who knows how long,” you sighed as you stared at the ceiling. “This is all so stupid and awkward!” You said to yourself as you rubbed your head. Out of all people, him?! At this point you would’ve preferred if Kidd showed up or something… And what the hell is up with him trying to have small talk with me? Does he expect me to be buddy buddy with him like nothing happened?

You quickly sat up, and shook your head. “Stop thinking about him. We’re over him, he doesn’t affect us anymore…” you said to yourself as you felt tears fall down your face. “God I’m so stupid!” You yelled.

Suddenly you heard the door open, and you quickly wiped away any tears. “(Y/N)? Are you awake?” You heard Robin call out. “Hi Robin,” you sniffled. “What’s wrong?” She asked as she sat on the edge of your bed. “It’s nothing, just some bad memories…” you said, as you avoided her eyes. “You know you can tell me, I’m your friend (Y/N),” she smiled as she placed her hand on top of mine. “I know, thanks,” you smiled softly. “I came to check on you, because I saw how upset you looked after speaking with Trafalgar,” she replied. “Yeah, I just don’t feel too comfortable around him,” you confessed. “You should tell Luffy, I’m sure he’ll under-“ you quickly cut her off. “No! No…” you repeated. “I can’t let him know! I can’t-“ you shut your mouth, afraid of your voice cracking.

“Let him get to you? I don’t understand,” she said, confused. You sat there in silence, pondering whether to tell her or not. “(Y/N), I’ll always be here for you. Do you and Trafalgar have a past history?” She asked. “Mhmm… I used to be a part of his crew, before I left…” you trailed off. “You left? Why?” She asked. “We were dating… until he shared his true feelings with me. I couldn’t stay there, not after what he said to me… So I left, while he was distracted by some Marines,” you explained, feeling a heavy weight fall off your shoulder. “Oh my,” Robin gasped. “Yep, so now we’re in an alliance with him. It’s weird, and I’ve moved on… but it sucks seeing him,” you said slowly.

“I see,” she said softly. “It’s ok, we’ll show him that you’ve grown. That no matter what he does, he can’t hurt you. Especially when you have friends here that will support you,” she smiled as he wrapped me into a hug. “You’re right!” You grinned. Your beautiful moment was quickly interrupted by your stomach growling. “Ah… I guess all this talk got me hungry,” you said sheepishly. “Let’s go get dinner,” Robin said. You nodded and the both of you quickly headed to the dining table.

You sat in between Robin and Luffy, and across from… Law. “Here you go everyone, dinner’s ready!” Sanji smiled as he sat down to eat. “Thank you,” we all said and quickly began eating. You reached forward for a rice ball, and brushed your hands against Law’s. You immediately flinched, looking up to see him staring your way.

You quickly grabbed a rice ball and pulled your arm away. You began to eat, trying to look anywhere but his direction. “Hey (Y/N)!” Said Luffy, breaking you out of your concentration. “Y-Yes?” You stuttered as you looked next to you. “Are you gonna finish your meat?” He asked, drooling. “Luffy! Leave (Y/N)’s food alone!” Sanji yelled. “It’s fine, you can have it Luffy,” you smiled as you handed him your plate.

“Thanks!” He smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown as he stared at you. “Something wrong?” You asked. “Yeah… one sec,” he said as he moved his hand to your face. Slowly wiping away at your cheek, you felt your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, you had rice on your cheek,” he laughed. “Oh, thanks,” you smiled. “Ow!” Luffy yelled, causing everyone to focus their attention on him. “Someone stepped on me!” He huffed. “Huh?” You questioned.

“You’re just imagining it,” Nami said. “Here Luffy, take my sandwich,” you said as you placed it onto his plate. “Wow!” He said, quickly changing his focus back onto his food. You slowly turned your eyes to the man in front of you. You almost fell out of your seat, once seeing the daggers that this man was staring into you.

“I-I’ll think I’ll call it an early night, night you guys,” you said as you quickly headed out of the dining room.

“Man that was tense,” you sighed as you walked towards your room. You slowly reached for the door knob, before suddenly being turned over and being pushed against the wall. You grunted as your back hit the door, you quickly opened your eyes to see that you were trapped by… Law… “T-Traffy?” You asked nervously. “So I see that you moved on, but I didn’t know you had a thing for captains,” he said coldly. “Woah… Woah… you think I moved from you onto Luffy? You’re crazy,” you laughed.

You noticed a light pink hue on his cheeks, as you continued to laugh. “Well why the blushy face when he reached for your face?” He questioned. “Well… wouldn’t anyone blush if you had food on your face and your friend took it off?” You asked. “I- Uh-“ you quickly cut him off. “Look like someone else needs to move on,” you laughed again, while slowly turning around to open the door. But was quickly turned back around, “Stop messing with me!” He yelled.

“What do you want from me? Do you still wish that I head head over heels for you, well tough shit cause you messed that up!” You yelled. You noticed that he was slightly taken aback by your response. “So what if I end up liking Luffy or whoever! That has nothing to do with you! You’re nothing to me, nothing,” you growled as you pushed him away.

“I’m not the same girl anymore, that would follow your every word. Or kiss the floor where you stepped on,” you glared. “So just leave me alone… haven’t you done enough?” You asked as you were finally able to open the door to the girls’ quarters. You quickly entered the door, ignoring Law’s calls for you. As you went to slam the door, a foot stopped it from slamming.

“Jesus Christ, you just don’t know when to leave a girl alone…” you groaned. “I’m sorry… I just want to say that I’m sorry,” he peeked through. “Ok now mov-“ he cut you off. “I’m sorry… for what I said. When you left, I realized how much I missed you- needed you… We went back to the island, but you were already gone. I don’t know what went over me, I-I missed your laughs, your smile, you interrupting me from my work, calling me honey… I know I screwed up, and seeing you now… Just reminds me of when we were still together… but I guess that’ll never be the case again,” he confessed. You stayed silent. “I’ll leave you alone, or as much as I can… I just wanted to let you know how I felt,” he said softly before removing his foot. Finally allowing you to shut the door.

You let out a deep sigh, and slowly slid down against the door. “Why do I feel like this?” You asked yourself as you clenched your hair. “What do I do now…?” You softly cried into your arms.