#like having the words to explain some of how my brain works is great

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On, Chapter 4 Part 2

masterpost (note that Caroline is not necessarily the best narrator about DID/OSSD, she's just trying explain her experience as she see is [in this story])

“He didn’t,” Caroline gasped, careful not to spill her wine as she leaned forward.

As soon as Dick realized that Caroline didn’t normally get to share and see the world through Tim’s eyes, he had been a fountain of stories about the family. “He did. There was a green tint to his skin for weeks. Sure, the distraction worked, I was able to slip away, but at what cost?”

“You ask that as if Bruce had any dignity left to lose,” Caroline pointed out with a raised brow. “I’m not sure there was even any to lose by the first time that I met him.”

“Oh, no, god no,” Dick said. He leaned forward to snag another piece of the dragon roll. “The cost wasn’t Bruce’s dignity, it was the fact that the fountains have never been dyed green for Saint Patty’s day again! We lost a great tradition that day.”

“A very noble one,” Caroline said somberly.

“Verily,” Dick agreed. He polled the piece of sushi in his mouth and leaned back to drape himself over the couch. He really could lounge. “How long have you known Bruce?”

“You mean you’re trying to figure out how long I’ve been around,” Caroline said.

Dick shrugged, looking only slightly cowed. “Yeah. Is that rude? I don’t want to offend you, but I can’t say that I’m not curious.”

“You’re a Bat, of course you’re curious,” Caroline allowed. She took a piece of sushi too, so that she had some time to think. “I haven’t always been around, just because I simply can’t have. Or I don’t think that I could have, because I think Tim was the first, but I don’t know when I haven’t been around. I have some unclear, fuzzy memories from before, but my first clear memory was when I was there to front for Tim’s first Gala. He was so scared about it. He didn’t want to upset his parents.”

“They weren’t your parents too?”

“No, never,” Caroline said with a vicious sort of certainty. She glanced up and caught Dick’s sympathetic look and gave a wry smile. “Do you know how badly it would have been if the Drakes knew that I existed? Or Alvin once he did? We would have been shipped off to some asylum disguised as a boarding school and they would have tried to fry me out of Tim’s brain. No, I was just there to perform admirably at galas. That was my first mission.”

Dick face was twisted up in a thoughtful little frown as he stared up at the ceiling. Caroline felt privileged that she got to see this side of Dick. She knew that he didn’t like to seem unhappy around many people.

“Didn’t Bruce pick the name Caroline Hill?”

“He did,” Caroline said.

“But…” Dick waved in her direction.

Caroline shifted and folded her legs up to her side as she thought how to explain. “I didn’t have a name. I was simply… the Woman. I think that I’m based a lot on Janet, even though she would have hated that, but also the other woman that we saw at galas. Calm, efficient, and in control. Tim knew I was there, but not… that I was? Or how much I was. I might have not even known. But when I was needed for his mission to be Caroline Hill… I don’t know. I suppose it’s a little like when Pinocchio became a real boy. Suddenly I had a name and a real mission, one for the life Tim loves. It was transformative.”

“And you’ve been… growing? Is that an okay word?”

Caroline shrugged. She didn’t mind the word at least.

“You’ve been growing ever since.”

“I suppose so,” Caroline agreed. She took a sip of her wine. She wondered how much Tim would hate her for explaining this, but someone needed to know. “After this injury, Tim hasn’t really been himself. I think maybe because he doesn’t know who he is without Robin. In all of that thinking… I don’t know how to explain it really, but I guess that there was some more room made for me and Alvin. Alvin might not much want it but God, Dick, I love being alive.”

Dick smiled. “Does that mean you’ll be around more.”

“I have been the last few weeks at least. But I promise that I’m not trying to take over from Tim,” Caroline said in a rush as it occurred to her that Dick might be worried about it. “I’m just enjoying some time out and about and some, ah, mutual interests and—”

“Caroline, calm down,” Dick interrupted. “I’m not worried about that. Whatever works for you and Tim is all that matters. And, well, Alvin. I just thought that if you’re going to be around more, we should make sure you have some things of your own.”

Caroline blinked, surprised. “Like clothing?”

“Definitely like clothing,” Dick agreed, “but also foods you like and even decor. Like, Tim has a spare bedroom, right? We could make it up as yours or at least a space that’s more your tastes.”

“Oh.” Caroline swallowed back the threat of tears. She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. “I—yes, I’d like that.”

“Shopping trip!” Dick said. His wine splashed on the floor as he threw his arms up in the air. “Oh, oh! What about inviting some of the other girls on the shopping trip?”

Caroline covered her smile with a delicate hand. “You’re not a girl.”

“Bitch, I can rock a skirt,” Dick said as he struck a pose.

“Fine, you wear a skirt for it and you can invite the other girls,” Caroline said before she could second guess it. “But you have to explain me to them before it and make sure that they… that they won’t mind me.’

“They won’t,” Dick promised, “and deal.”

[joocomics]

scaredy cat

pairing: non-idol!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 1.9k words

✎… friends with benefits to lovers trope, sub!reader, pet names, fingering, overstimulation (f!rec), hickeys

( txt masterlist )

During the slow boring hours of work the other day you created a list with the pros and cons of possibly dating Yeonjun.

For a while now he’s been throwing you signals about getting serious (more often than not), so you thought it would be a good idea to look at this more thoroughly, and kill some time until your shift is finally over. Aware of the already strong feelings you have for him you grab a pen and start writing…

… funny and reliable

likes to cuddle but not clingy

great sense of fashion

(extremely) good at sex

has a super cool tv …

“Is this why you've been coming over more often these days?” Yeonjun returns into the living room with drinks in hand. After sitting down on the edge of the couch which he transforms into a comfy bed every time you're here, he turns to you with a raised brow. “To watch your disgusting movies on my new TV?”

“My disgusting movies are well written cinematic experiences that you're too big of a scaredy cat to recognize the full worth of.” You explain, crossing arms in front of your chest. “And they're even cooler on your TV, so to answer your question, yes.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes at you, but you can notice there’s a half-smile creeping up on his plump lips as he looks away with amusement.

“Actually,” you say almost through laughter which brings Yeonjun’s attention back to you, “recently I made a list with your good and bad qualities and your new TV made it.”

“That's not a quality.”

Now you’re the one who rolls eyes before glancing back at the screen.

“Just be grateful it's there to fill up space in the pros column.”

“So what are my bad qualities?” Yeonjun asks intrigued just when the main character of the horror film screams hysterically at the sight of yet another body, causing his heart to jump. He flinches at the sudden sound and instantly turns his back to the screen. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, who watches this kind of shit for fun?!”

You watch him scooting over and laugh at his attempts to avoid seeing the screen while doing so as the horrible scene unfolds on the large TV.

He positions next to you and now you're shoulder to shoulder.

“I still haven't gotten to them.”

“Don't waste your time,” he sighs, adjusting against the pillow, “I don't have any.”

“Don't be so sure about that.” You quickly respond, “I had to get back to work and then I forgot.”

“Because I don't have any.” He repeats after tittering. He finally dares to glance at the screen as it seems that the gory scene has passed.

“You get jealous pretty easily.” You state cautiously, wanting to shoot him a discreet look so bad, but you resist.

You also want to add, and pretty obviously, but you keep that detail for yourself as you remember how overprotective he was the other night at the birthday party you were invited to. It resulted into you getting asked the same question over and over again. Your friends were having a hard time believing you’re not dating.

Yeonjun remains silent for a moment as he tilts his head to see you. He leans in, just a little bit, to make your cheeks warm from the sudden closeness; to bring goosebumps across your skin from his mouth being close enough to your ear as he speaks through low voice.

“So it’s a bad thing that I don’t like sharing what’s mine?”

His gaze holds onto yours causing the fireworks into your stomach to ignite even harder. It’s like your heart stops for a second, and your brain as well, making the task to come up with a good answer on time challenging. It’s so obvious at this point that you’re taking too much time; too fumbled by the last word in his sentence. And especially by how much you like its presence there; how you’re already getting used to the sound of it in his voice.

Your lips part, not to speak, but to kiss him instead when another jumpscare makes him wince.

Too busy to hide his face into your chest, he only groans in despair, simultaneously pulling the blanket over your tangled bodies. One airy shit! slips from beneath it. The dramatic spine-chilling soundtrack overpowers the cussing, but you catch it nevertheless.

He sounds as if he's the one being tortured.

“Poor baby,” you tease him by cooing. “Is this too scary for you?”

He murmurs something about you shutting your mouth, but the anguish is making his frustrated words incoherent.

“How much left till the end?”

“Like an hour and a half,” you start running your fingertips through his dark hair as he adjusts even further into your arms. His head finds a comfortable spot onto your chest.

“I’ll just close my eyes for a little while…” his voice is slower than a moment ago, and you hum softly in agreement.

It’s almost like your familiar scent can lull him to sleep despite the scary movie playing in the background. He can feel his muscles loosen up, his mind relaxing with each peaceful breath you take.

Until the noise of a new jumpscare comes to frighten him again.

“I will add this in my cons list by the way.” You cackle.

Yeonjun’s brows furrow, but you can’t see his irritated eyes, because his face is hidden into your neck.

You can feel his warm breath caressing your skin once he speaks up.

“I know what will help me calm down.”

As the words slip lazily one by one from his lips, his hand slides down between your thighs. His fingertips feel the nice fabric of your little cotton shorts that seem too tight around your curves. They keep roaming around, rising your body temperature, until he guides them to your clothed clit, putting just enough pressure on it while his mouth nibbles on the skin of your neck.

“But… I want to finish the movie,” you whine softly before shutting your eyes at the thrill he’s causing you to feel kiss after kiss.

“You keep watching, baby.” His lips detach from your neck and curl up into a sinful smirk.

You centre your head again, watching him pull down your shorts as the screen behind him paints his silhouette in dark blue and purple hues, turning his features even more seductive.

Half of the fuzzy blanket is now almost on the ground as you keep your legs spread open. Yeonjun’s hand rubs in continuous circling motions that he synchronises with your breathing. Focusing entirely on your body helps him completely ignore the on going movie you keep watching with interest. He’s giving his full attention to your little squirming movements, to your rhythmical breathes, and to the erotic sounds that start escaping your mouth more frequently only to mix with the background noise in the room.

There are fresh bruises forming on your neck, but he continues to suck, making himself drool from how much he enjoys doing it. The only time he backs away is when he pushes two fingers inside you for the first time and he gets the urge to taste them, as it often happens when he’s pleasing you.

“Mmm, you always taste so good.” He humms after unwrapping his lips from his fingertips. His mouth has a red tint to it, glistening with moisture. “So fuckin’ wet for me, can you feel it?”

“Fuck, don’t stop—“ The only thing you’re able to say when he slips back into your arousal is to keep going. His fingers curl up perfectly, and aiming for the right spot they start thrusting in a steady pace causing your moans to shake. “Yeah, just like that... yeah—“

Yeonjun buries his face into the crook of your neck while starting to breathe more heavily too.

You keep closing and opening your heavy eyes at the screen where an intense moment is looming, filling the room with an intense instrumental music, but all he can register is the noises you keep losing control over. His hand flexes while increasing its speed in order to push you closer to the desired peak and it swiftly succeeds.

Your attention level drops and your head falls to one side with your eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

“Sounds so pretty,” he comments at your ear as the wet lewd noise keeps erupting with the nonstop slamming of his palm against your slick folds. Just the way you like it. “You’re close, doll.”

His fingers, stuck between your pulsing walls, get squished tighter as the seconds pass by. He keeps up the quick and smooth pacing until your breaking point comes in, forcing it to turn sloppy and rigid.

“Fuck, there you go,” Yeonjun’s chuckle rings out with a husky tone, only adding to the ecstatic effects of your intense climax.

Your whole body squirms as Yeonjun lets his fingers, wet and sticky, rest still on your throbbing clit. The fluids slowly spill out of you, forming a dark spot on the couch as the sensation turns more light and mellow, but he doesn’t mind it.

You’re still regaining your normal breathing when his fingertips start skidding rapidly along your soaked folds. You whimper at the unexpected contact with your clit that’s now extra sensitive, causing intense reactions from your body at even the smallest touch.

As he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down you whine his name, but without being able to utter any other word.

“Give me one more, baby.” He whispers, effortlessly sliding his fingers up and down your slickness in an indescribable way; so fast, so determined to receive more from you. “C’mon, doll.”

You pant uncontrollably under his tireless touch. The dancing of his fingers keep up the same energy, making you clench as they create another burning knot of pleasure in your core. Once it bursts, you’re not able to stay still and Yeonjun tries his best to keep his hand on your puffy lips so he can rub till the second orgasm washes over you.

Your legs tremble when he enters you with the same eager fingers, curious to feel how wet you are. The pool of arousal welcomes him with ease, and he cannot help but start fantasising how good it would feel to have his cock deep inside you right now. He can give it to you, but making you cum multiple times like this is just as exciting.

He notices your eyes are half-closed while gazing down between your thighs.

“Keep watching, sweetheart.” He says softly, but with a slight hint of demand which makes you look up on the instant. “You don’t want to miss anything from the movie, that’s why you’re here, right?”

He glides slowly through your tight walls and you both sense how they keep throbbing against him from lust and sensitivity. You take a deep shaky breath, trying to concentrate on the story line, but it’s so hard when he’s in the middle of building up a new wave of rush while hiding in the crook of your neck. Running his tongue over his own love marks now and then.

You bite your lip at the realisation of how much is still left from the movie that is about to become the reason your brain is going to turn completely numb and your pussy sore by the end of this Halloween night.

But the thing you will always associate it with first, from this day forward, is you officially becoming his.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[channiesbakery]

doggy play date —

prompt / request — "that's not even your dog.”

pairing — reader + non idol!dokyeom

word count — 882

genre — fluff

you were a regular at the cafe seokmin worked at. he’s had a crush on you ever since you came in for the first time months ago.

today, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out. except he made a teeny tiny mistake of asking you out on a play date for your dogs instead of a date with just you.

another mistake? he doesn’t even own a dog.

“can i borrow latte?” seokmin asks soonyoung the minute he walks into his friend’s apartment. “my… dog?” soonyoung questions, unsure if he’d heard the question correctly.

“no, your cup of coffee. yes your dog!” seokmin exclaims sarcastically. “but why?” soonyoung furrows his eyebrows.

“i may or may not have set up a date with a girl i met at a cafe,” he starts to explain. “good for you man,” soonyoung grins, patting his shoulder.

“except it’s less of a date for us and more of a play date for our dogs,” seokmin finishes as soonyoung just stares at him blankly.

“so you set up a date for your nonexistent dog,” soonyoung repeats. “i know i sound insane–” seokmin starts. “I’m surprised you didn’t go buy a dog,” soonyoung says.

“can i borrow latte or not?” he sighs. “if it’ll help your love life,” soonyoung smirks a little. “but you owe me big time.” he adds.

a couple days later, you meet at the dog park, letting your dogs get acquainted while you and seokmin sat on the bench, starting to get to know each other.

you start talking about your dogs, asking him questions about latte: when he got her, why’d he choose the name latte, etc.

seokmin felt like he was sweating, trying to come up with lies to answer your questions. he felt bad for lying but he wanted to go out with you so bad that the only way he thought of bonding over you was your pets. well, your real pet and his borrowed dog.

the entire time you chatted, his brain was screaming “that’s not even your dog!!!” at him but he didn’t want to confess his stupid lie just yet.

“hey, a new cafe opened close by if you want to get a quick bite? i hear they have some dog friendly treats so our pups can have something too,” you suggest.

“that sounds like a great idea,” he agrees with a smile.

you walk to the cafe, both of your dogs walking ahead of you on their leashes. your hand brushes against his a few times and seokmin fights the urge to intertwine your fingers.

even after spending nearly two hours at the cafe, neither of you were ready to part just yet.

“you’ve got to be one of the most charming guys I’ve ever gone out with,” you laugh as you walk along the sidewalk, not really having a destination in mind.

“oh so this is a date? i thought this was just a play date for our dogs?” he teases. “you saying you don’t want this to be a date?” you gasp. “no i definitely like the idea of this being a date,” he smiles.

“so much that I’m not ready for it to end,” he admits. “well, we’re not too far from my place… how about a drink? i don’t think latte’s ready to say goodbye either,” you nod towards the two dogs walking ahead.

the dogs run off as soon as you take their leashes off in your apartment while you lead seokmin to your living room.

he takes a seat on your couch while you step into the kitchen to grab two beers.

your conversations continue naturally, your topics going all over the place. neither of you notice it but you keep moving closer to each other.

seokmin brushes a stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. his eyes glance down at your lips before you lean in, waiting for him to close the gap.

his lips move softly against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head to deepen the kiss. when he hears a bark from the other room, he suddenly remembers what led to his current position.

“okay i really need to confess something before this goes any further,” seokmin sighs, pulling away from your lips.

“uh oh. are you gonna tell me you’re a serial killer?” you tease. “okay it’s not that bad,” he chuckles. “so what’s the confession?” you hum.

“latte isn’t exactly… mine,” he says and you’re silent for a second. “oh my god, you kidnapped a dog? that might be worse than a serial killer,” you gasp.

“what? no! no, no! i didn’t kidnap her, I’m just borrowing her!” he quickly exclaims. “i’ve kinda had a crush on you for months and i fucked up when i asked you out only to make it a play date for our dogs,” he explains sheepishly.

“except you don’t have a dog, apparently,” you say, clearly amused with the situation. “i know, i know. i fucked up,” he sighs.

“it’s okay, i forgive you,” you hum, leaning in close again. “i kinda have a crush on you too. besides, you kidnapped a dog just to take me out on a date,” you tease, kissing him as he groans.

“i didn’t kidnap her!”

[evolnoomym]

Good Neighbor 🚚

Neighbor!Joel Miller x F!OC

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: Moving into your own first apartment is not going well, that is until a charming man turns your entire day around.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2k

Authors note: This is inspired by me moving into my own first apartment. I’ve ran into a neighbor that day but unfortunately he was not Joel Miller.💀

Still he kinda gave my brain a push to write this.

Shoutout to my absolute fantastic Wife @joelmillerisapunk and lovely Sun @sunshineispunk for beta-reading 😉🙏🏻

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, Moon as always, kinda size-kink, implied age-gap, Joel is 36, flirting, old brother vibes, Tommy appearance, food, literally pepperoni pizza that never gets mentioned again, quick fuck, missionary, p in v, creampie, no protection(be smarter),

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙌🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

As if moving alone wasn’t already stressful enough, you additionally had no time to prepare for any of these events and were chucked into a mess. You had struggled for weeks, trying not to recall what had occurred and hastily attempting to figure out a new living situation. Then, after all the hurdles, you had found this wonderful little two room apartment and now all that was left to do was the move of all your belongings.

Unfortunately, earlier today, all the volunteers- except for your older brother Mark,- were suddenly busy and unable to help. All that Mark could do, before being called into work for an emergency meeting himself, was to carry the heavy furniture from the storage room to the transporter.

What poses a serious problem currently is that you somehow have to get those humongous parts of the king sized bed, your wardrobe, desk and dressers up to the 5th floor. So far, only one box made it up there, and now you are pacing in front of the entryway furiously explaining all the drama to your best friend in a voice memo. Unbeknownst to you, a southern gentleman has been listening to your struggle and who would he be not to help a gal in need out.

Once you seemingly are done letting off steam, he makes himself known.

“ s’cuse me, miss,” you whip around to see who that deep voice belongs to “I’m your new neighbor from across, Joel Miller.” He points towards the door across from yours -oh fuck if that is your neighbor then you are screwed, he’s gorgeous- and next holds out one of his massive hands for you to shake. You do.

“Ahh, well it’s a pleasure to meet you Joel, I’m Moon.” You hope you don’t look too disheveled.

“Pretty name for a pretty woman,” he winks quickly “listen I don’t mean to be nosy but ya sounded like you could use some help?” He tilts his head in question.

“Yeah, everyone who promised to help had bailed out on me and now I’m all alone,” you sigh “but I couldn’t possibly expect you to help me. You probably have more important things to take care of?” You’d love to say yes immediately to his offer but don’t want to sound too overeager.

“No, there’s nothin’ on schedule today, besides my momma raised me right, so please let me help ya?” It sounds like a question but his face lets you know that there’s no talking him out of this.

“Okay,” you nod.

His face lights up as he has another great idea.

“Hold on, let me call my brother Tommy, he’ll be here in no time to help as well.” Joel’s hand is already on the move to grab his phone and call.

“Are you sure?” You force him to halt his plans.

“Yes, I’m sure. Besides, our momma would beat his ass if he’d say no to helping out.” He smirks and you have no arguments this time, you need all the help you can get.

So Joel makes the call and, indeed, Tommy shows up within 10 minutes.

You can tell he is the little brother just by how they greet each other. In brotherly fashion, Joel pulls Tommy in for a hug and then playfully pretends to put him in a headlock. You only think about how happy you’d be to have Joel put you in a headlock, those beefy biceps around your neck sound heavenly.

Tommy’s approaching figure pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Howdy little lady, name’s Tommy, heard you might need another pair of strong arms to help ya out?” He’s charming just like his brother.

“Tommy,” Joel’s tone is authoritative, a warning.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Tommy mumbles whilst his eyes are cast towards his shoes.

“Ohhhh, no, please don’t call me ma’am. I’d take the ‘little lady’ over that, any day.” You giggle, no one ever before called you that.

“To answer your question, yes, I do need some strong arms to help me out. Of course not without something in return,” you pause seeing how Tommy smirks and raises one brow at the double meaning “gosh, not that, get your mind out of the gutter.” You both erupt into heartfelt laughter.

Joel meanwhile realizes how easily you fit into their lives, he’s only known you for such a short period of time and yet it feels like way longer. He’s curious to figure out more of the finer details that make you unique.

Joel lets you two laugh it up for a moment before he directs the focus towards the transporter.

“Y’all ready to put some work in?”

In the end, the two hunks don’t let you do anything. They place all the boxes and movables where they should go with you directing them. In the living room, they place the tv on its designated cabinet and, with the couch having been bought off of the previous tenant, your living room was done for now. For the most part, the actual work went down in the bedroom. Joel and Tommy assembled your wardrobe, desk and dresser in lightning speed. All you did was going over to Joel’s place to get them each a beer and ordering some pepperoni pizza.

Tommy, of course, made a remark with a clear double meaning, “Thank you sweetheart, ya really know how to make a man happy.”

Joel smoothly responded to that. “Tommy, cool it, you’re barely a man. Stop flirtin’ with my neighbor. Ya have a girlfriend, who- funnily enough- is callin’ you right now.” While throwing his phone at him.

Tommy curses as he picks up and walks out of the room.

Joel addresses you next. “Sorry, he’s…well, just Tommy.”

You wave off his worry, “It’s fine.”

Tommy comes breezing in, “I gotta go, Maria needs to be picked up from her friend’s house. Hope y’all can deal with the rest.”

“Don’t worry. We got it, Tommy. Thank you again for the help.” You give him a hug, he says goodbye to his brother before you lead him out of the door, leaving you and Joel alone.

Putting the pieces of your bed together is the last thing you’ll have to do before enjoying the pizza. Although, as you spend more time alone with Joel, the urge of having a different kind of meal becomes stronger and stronger.

You clap your hands together as you waltz into the bedroom with Joel right on your heels. “We only have to put the bed together and then we can relax.” You say over your shoulder. Joel hums softly in agreement.

It takes about 10 minutes for the two of you to clip the bed frame into the bed boxes, place the mattress on top and lastly roll out the topper. Afterwards, you sit down on the edge of the bouncy mattress, leaning back on your hands, watching how Joel packs up his toolbox.

You had ogled him all day long. He’s undeniably your type- tall, strong, mid 30s and, above all a gentleman. Maybe even a bit too much. You flirted with him on more than one occasion, asking him if he’s taken, complimenting him on his looks. He stole your breath when he had lifted his shirt to wipe sweat off his temple, he exposed so much of the delicious curve that makes his belly. Happy trail leading to what you imagine must be paradise. You need to have him.

You get his attention by calling out to him.

“Joel?” He turns to you immediately.

You blink up at him, slowly, to look sexy and mysterious.

“You know,” you let your gaze drift down to his crotch, which is directly in front of you “as a thank you for being such a good and thorough neighbor you could test the bed with me?” You practically purr those words at him. But Joel is too much of a gentleman and still doesn’t take the hint.

“Darlin’ why would we need to do that? The mattress seemed pretty solid to me.” His friendly smile makes you want to punch him.

At this point you don’t know how much more clearer you’ll have to be. You had flirted with him all day, he even went along sometimes but then always returned to friendly chatter. You even question if you’re not pretty enough.

You had enough. “Joel,” you inhale and exhale dramatically to underline your frustration “I want to have sex with you, right fucking now, is that clear enough?”

He just stares at you for what feels like an eternity before slowly responding “Are you sure?”

Now you’re confused “What?”

“I mean you really wanna have sex with me?” As he’s pointing towards himself.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I?” Does he really not know how incredibly hot he is?

“Am I not too old for ya? I’m sure there’s a line of guys jus’ waitin to meet ya.”

“I don’t care about your age and there’s no one waiting to meet me. I don’t exist to guys my age, all these immature boys that will play with my feelings don’t matter.”

“ s’okay, baby, say again what ya need me to do?” Finally.

“Fuck me, please.” Once you’d whispered those words, you wasted no time in rushing up to kiss him. You pull him down between your legs, on the mattress, until he’s completely draped over your body.

In between pecking your lips he muses “Ya really wanted this badly, huh?”

“Sure did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day.” You want him to know just how much you desired him.

You don’t want to wait any longer, your panties have been soaked since he had offered his help. You are more than ready.

Your hands wander to free his cock from those goddamn jeans. But you’re too occupied with slipping your tongue into his warm mouth to be successful.

Joel pulls away from you and leans back as he unbuttons his jeans. “Let me do it, you take off those leggings,” he watches you raise your hips to slide the tight fabric off and down each leg. You carelessly toss away the pair.

“Just pull my panties to the side, I need you inside of me right now,” you are grasping onto his arm, proving your point.

And Joel complies easily. Doing as you told him to, followed by his length sliding through your slick folds once he exposes your core.

“Ughh, don’t tease me, please Joel..” your voice turns into a collection of pathetic whiny moans.

“Shh, baby, gotta get him nice ‘n wet before I stuff your little pussy.”

You release a sigh of relief when he finally decides to prod at your gushing entrance with his tip. He halts.

“Ya got a condom, pretty girl?” You’ll never get enough of his sweet tang calling you all sorts of names.

You shake your head “No, but we won’t need one, I’m on the pill and clean.”

“Me too, but darlin’ are you 100% sure s’ what ya want?” He smiles softly, rubbing circles into your hip bone with his thumb.

“I am 100% sure,” and with that he breaches your tight opening, pushing his way into your warm walls.

“Oh my god, Joel it’s soo big, fuck..” This is what they mean when talking about getting your guts rearranged.

Joel is sucking marks into the delicate skin of your throat as a means to distract you from the stretch. “I know, ya are such a good girl, takin’ it so good.”

It doesn’t take much longer, only a few strokes, so you’re not even able to warn him, before your pussy erupts around his throbbing cock. You squeeze him so hard forcing his orgasm to hit him much faster than he would’ve wanted.

Joel catches his breath in the crux of your neck. The buzzing of the orgasm fizzling out, makes him realize that he didn’t even ask you if it would be okay to come inside.

“Fuck, baby, I came inside ya, ‘m sorry.” he brushes the apology out while lifting his head to look you in the eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m quite thankful for the lovely gift Mr.Miller,” you pull his face down to yours and press your lips to his.

“You’re a good neighbor, for sure.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

😚: @thundermartini @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @toxicanonymity @penvisions @604to647 @pinkypromisepascal @mountainsandmayhem @msjarvis @syd-djarin @burntheedges

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part seventeen: dream a little dream of me

word count: 1.6k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

sixteen | seventeen | eighteen

The second date should’ve felt more awkward. It didn’t.

Alex had picked a science museum of all places—not exactly romantic on paper, but the look on his face when he pointed out the replica Mars rover was too earnest to judge. He had this habit where his whole face would light up like a lightbulb the moment before he got excited about something, and Y/N had already learned to clock it like a warning siren.

“So, technically,” he was saying, hands jammed in his jacket pockets as they strolled past a massive display on deep-sea robotics, “the algorithms used for this submersible’s sensor mapping were adapted from AI software developed for self-driving cars.”

“Technically,” she echoed, teasing, “you should probably just work here.”

He looked sideways at her with a crooked grin. “I applied when I was sixteen. They didn’t take me.”

“They’re clearly still recovering from that mistake.”

He tried to play it off cool, but she caught the slight flush of his ears.

She liked him more than she expected to. Not in the way you decide to like someone—more like how you step outside one day and realize the air smells like rain and suddenly, you’re soft and open and all the windows are down. He was like that: unexpected and quiet and warm around the edges.

They made their way through the rest of the exhibits in no particular order, weaving between dwindling crowds of families and groups of students on field trips, neither of them in a hurry. He let her take her time at the forensic anthropology section, where she ran her fingers along the raised edges of a reconstructed skull, and she let him lose himself in the physics wing, where he explained, with ridiculous enthusiasm, why the double pendulum was so cool. It was there that the nickname Professor Albon was born.

At some point, he took her hand. It wasn’t a big deal. He just did it naturally, without hesitation, like it had already been a habit, and for a moment, that simple touch made her feel warm all over.

They ended the night sitting cross-legged on the floor of the museum café, long after it closed, surrounded by vending machine snacks and a half-solved crossword puzzle she’d found in her bag. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a dim glow over the abandoned chairs and tables, but neither of them seemed eager to move. They laughed about everything and nothing, the kind of laughing that came from being tired but happy, the kind that made her lean into his shoulder without thinking.

"Okay," Alex said, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the page. "Eight-letter word for ‘illuminates or clarifies’?"

As she took a moment to think it over, Alex watched in his periphery as she counted off the letters of her word on her fingers. "’Explains’ fits," she mused, popping a purple skittle into her mouth.

"Hmm." He scribbled it in. "Not bad. Maybe I should keep you around."

"Yeah, yeah," she nudged his knee with hers, grinning. "You just like me for my crossword skills."

"Wrong. I like you for your crossword skills and your terrible puns."

“My puns are great, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

He liked her brain. She liked how funny he was. They made a good pair—two academically overworked people who laughed at obscure engineering memes and played footsie under café tables without meaning to. When they said goodbye that night, he kissed her like he was trying not to smile through it. Like maybe this could really be something.

It felt easy.

And in the days that followed, it stayed easy. He texted her every night.

alex: Made the Mars rover jealous. Can’t stop thinking about you.

Y/N: did you just say that unironically. because I might have to stop seeing you on principle.

alex: Too late, I’ve already added you to my will. You get the Lego Technic collection.

Y/N: wait nvm i’m back in

They made time. Even when they both shouldn’t have.

He’d bring her coffee before her class–something with cinnamon and oat milk in it. He’d scrawl dumb physics jokes on the lid just to make her roll her eyes. She started keeping his schedule in her head without meaning to. She knew which nights he had his advanced systems class and which ones he spent buried in the lab. He’d text her when his simulations crashed at 3AM. She’d send him memes about courtroom drama tropes in return.

He had an engineer’s sense of humor—dry, sneaky, often deeply specific. It took a while to catch on, but once she did, it felt like discovering hidden easter eggs in his sentences.

“You know,” he’d murmur as they lay back in the grass near campus, watching clouds roll over like they weren’t chilly out here in the autumn breeze, “you statistically reduce your lifespan by two minutes every time you eat instant ramen.”

“Cool. So I’ll be dying a noble, sodium-rich death then.”

He turned his head toward her, smiling with closed eyes. “Hmm, a martyr.”

“A hero.”

“Buried with your books and MSG packets.”

She shoved his shoulder. He let her.

On Thursdays, she’d sit outside his lab, cross-legged on the cold tile floor with flashcards in her lap, quizzing him on his presentation slides about failure analysis and impact resistance.

“Okay, explain to me like I’m five—what is a stress-strain curve and why should I care?”

“Because,” he’d say, crouching in front of her with a smirk, “it tells you how close something is to breaking.”

“And that’s relevant to your research…?”

He gave her a confused look, until it turned sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m… not entirely sure about that bit, actually.”

She started looking forward to the moments in between—the walks across campus, the shared bag of chips while sitting on the hood of her car, the ridiculous voice memos he sent when he was overtired and delirious.

They kissed in stairwells and library corners and once,perhaps ill-advisedly, on a park bench in the middle of a thunderstorm. The rain had soaked through their clothes, cold and unrelenting, but he had just looked at her and said, "I think we should be stupid about this," right before he leaned in. It was impulsive and dramatic and made her laugh until she had to cover her mouth, their faces inches apart. Her hair was soaked, his glasses fogged up, and they almost dropped his backpack in a puddle, but the moment stuck—sharp and golden and untouchable.

They talked about future dates like there’d be dozens of them—bookstores they wanted to browse together, a tiny Thai place he swore by, a stargazing night he promised would be “scientifically optimized for romance” depending on the cloud cover. She rolled her eyes at that one, but her heart still fluttered.

They were still in the sweet spot—the space between maybe and more, where everything felt bright and possible. 

It wasn’t perfect – but it was promising.

The third date was dinner—some hole-in-the-wall Thai place with flickering neon signage and laminated menus stained with old curry thumbprints. He’d gotten lost on the way and sent a flurry of frantic texts.

alex :) : I passed the restaurant. Twice. There’s a cat staring at me through a laundromat window. I think it’s judging me.

Y/N: be strong. you can beat the cat.

alex :) : Negative, Sargeant. It’s very confident.

He’d arrived breathless, slightly damp from a drizzle, and holding a single packet of Skittles “for your efforts,” he’d said solemnly. She called him an idiot. He looked delighted.

That night, they talked about things that didn’t matter—TV shows neither of them had finished, foods they pretended to like for the aesthetic, the sheer horror of Alex’s undergraduate group project from hell (“We had a guy who thought duct tape was a structural solution”). 

And then, slowly, they talked about the things that did matter.

Like how she used to want to be a journalist when she was little, because she thought it meant you got to ask as many questions as you wanted and never had to apologize.

Or how he still wasn’t sure what kind of engineer he wanted to be—just that he wanted to make things that didn’t break when people needed them most.

“You know,” he said, nudging his glass in slow circles across the table, “you’re not what I expected.”

Y/N looked up. “Is that a good thing or, like, a 'you’re secretly a serial killer' kind of a thing?”

He smiled. “It’s a good thing. Really, really good.”

By the fourth week, they had a rhythm. It wasn’t just dates anymore—it was Hey, want to walk home together? and I saved you the last chocolate chip muffin, but only because I like you more than I like muffins. But barely.

It was him reaching for her hand without thinking, her resting her head against his shoulder on the bus when she was too tired to hold it up.

It was a shared Spotify playlist for when studying is ur 13th reason.

It was early Saturday morning sun filtering into her apartment while they quietly read their own books, his socked foot nudging hers on the side of the couch almost every ten minutes.

It was good.

But between the sleepy smiles and the shared muffins and the texts that kept getting longer instead of shorter, the truth was that they both had dreams. Big ones. All-consuming ones.

And no matter how much you wanted something—or someone—there were only so many hours in the day.

a/n: one of my more favorite chapters! an unfortunate lack of lando though :/ what did you think of it?

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[little-jana]

"Steady Hands"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst (hurt/comfort)

Words: 2k

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack, anxiety, use of Y/N, can be read as friend!Spencer

Summary: Spencer helps you through a panic attack.

a/n: requested by anon! If anyone is struggling please feel free to reach out to me! I have some great tips that help me through anxiety. Especially this breathing technique, it's great!

The world was too loud.

That was the first thing you registered as the panic set in. The distant hum of the café, the clatter of dishes, the muffled conversations—it all blended into a deafening roar that pressed against your skull. Your breathing had gone shallow, your heart hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to escape your chest.

You knew what was happening. You'd been here before. But that didn't make it any easier.

The walls felt like they were closing in, and no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that you were safe, that nothing bad was happening, your body refused to listen. Your hands trembled violently as you pressed them against the wooden table, your vision blurring at the edges.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"(Y/N)?"

Spencer.

You didn’t even realize he had arrived. His voice was soft but steady, pulling you out of the whirlwind just enough to register that he was crouching beside you.

You couldn’t speak. Your throat felt too tight, as if words would get caught like stones if you tried to force them out. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging into your skin, trying to ground yourself.

Spencer noticed immediately.

His long fingers wrapped gently around your wrists, not pulling, just holding—an anchor in the storm. “Hey, it’s okay. Just focus on me,” he murmured, his voice deliberate and soothing. “You’re safe. You’re here.”

You swallowed hard, your breaths still coming too fast, too ragged.

“Can you match my breathing?” Spencer asked, demonstrating by inhaling slowly through his nose, then exhaling just as steadily. “In for four… one, two, three, four… hold for four… one, two, three, four… out for four.”

You tried to mimic him, but it felt impossible. Your lungs were fighting against you, refusing to obey.

“That’s okay,” Spencer assured you, his thumbs rubbing slow, reassuring circles against your wrists. “Try again. Just a little slower this time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and followed his lead.

Inhale. One, two, three, four.

Hold. One, two, three, four.

Exhale. One, two, three, four.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better.

“Good,” Spencer said, his voice full of quiet encouragement. “You’re doing great.”

Your fingers slowly uncurled. Your heartbeat, though still too fast, wasn’t quite as erratic. The trembling in your hands dulled to a faint shake.

Spencer didn’t let go.

He stayed there, crouched beside you in the middle of the café, shielding you from the rest of the world with nothing but his presence.

After a few more minutes, you finally opened your eyes. His face was close, warm brown eyes filled with nothing but concern and patience.

“There you are,” he said softly.

You let out a shaky breath, blinking away the residual panic. “…Sorry.”

Spencer frowned immediately. “No. Don’t apologize.” His tone was firm but kind. “This isn’t something you have to be sorry for.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just… I hate when this happens. I should be able to control it.”

Spencer shook his head. “That’s not how panic attacks work.”

You expected him to let go now that you had calmed down, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted, moving to sit beside you in the booth, his hand resting lightly over yours. Not restraining, just offering warmth.

“Your brain is perceiving a threat, even if there isn’t one,” he explained gently. “It triggers the amygdala, which overrides the prefrontal cortex—the part responsible for rational thought. That’s why grounding exercises help. They re-engage the rational part of your brain.”

You huffed a tired laugh. “Always the professor, huh?”

Spencer smiled, small but genuine. “Only when I think it might help.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling wrung out, but the worst of the storm had passed. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

And you believed him.

[haikyu-mp4]

Crooked bangs

word count; 1053 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You were nothing short of nervous as you got ready to photograph the tall volleyball players. The volleyball team was one of Shiratorizawa’s many great prides, and you had taken it upon yourself to create something that would represent them and their talents. However, you didn’t expect that some of the players would be even more nervous than you. While working with the first years, Goshiki was proving difficult as he kept turning away from the camera. The coach gave you limited time with his players so you started getting anxious, begging him to tell you what made him so camera shy.

“My bangs are a little crooked and I look stupid,” he mumbled. You hadn’t noticed before, but your eyes darted up to the hair on his forehead and you noticed it wasn’t quite as straight as usual.

“I can’t even see it! Don’t worry, Goshiki,” you tried to assure him, ignoring the other first-years giggling at their future ace acting like that. He didn’t seem convinced by your encouragement and the rest of the members you had at hand were no help, so you browsed your brain for an idea and left for where the rest of the team were training. Muttering encouragement for yourself this time under your breath, you walked over to the coach and asked him to borrow a specific player. He considered for a moment, but your respectful demeanour convinced him.

“Tendo! You’re excused. Follow her and make it quick,” the coach yelled, and the redhead was surprised, to say the least. Still, he strolled over to you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“I thought you were starting with the first-years?” he asked and you put a hand on his upper arm before leaning closer so you didn’t have to speak too loudly. Tendo took the hint and leaned down.

“Goshiki is refusing to take his pictures because of his hair. I’ve seen how you encourage him between games, please help me,” you explained, hoping he could hear how desperate you felt. Tendo stood back up to his full height and looked at your eyes for a second. It felt good to hear someone notice his efforts and talk to him so casually. Like he wasn’t scary. He hadn’t even talked to you before, but you seemed to have a good impression of him. He liked this feeling.

“I’ll try my best, boss,” he said simply with a wink. The two of you went back to the first-years and Tendo did his best to boost Goshiki’s confidence. Telling him how people would be looking at the awesome flyer after seeing his amazing line shots to find information about him, the next ace. His eyes found yours and you nodded.

“I can even write that on your profile if you want! The future ace sounds pretty impressive.”

And so the two of you got Goshiki to pose more confidently, cheering him on until Tendo had to go back and you could start with the second years.

When it was finally the third-years’ turn, you smiled a little brighter at the tall redhead. “Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it,” you said. The two of you seemed to be looking at each other like the others weren’t even there.

“No worries, are you happy with all the pictures so far?” he asked, not noticing the way Reon and Semi glanced at each other.

“Very, it’s fun showing off such a great team.” Your cheeks almost matched his hair with the way you felt when his eyes were on you.

“That’s good, saved the best for last of course. How do you want us?” he said as he finally broke out of the trance, rubbing his hands together.

“Give me a look that says undefeated champions, even though it’ll probably say it on the paper as well,” you giggled, trying not to be shy about your excitement.

The third-years had you laughing nonstop, energy high as you went from static Ushijima who really just had two poses to dynamic Tendo who made some funny faces for you. You got Reon to give you a handsome smirk and Semi had more than enough confidence and it showed. Overall, you couldn’t be happier.

“You guys better get back to practice, thank you so much,” you said, starting to pack up your stuff. As they were about to leave, Tendo doing so a bit hesitantly, you stopped them. “Wait! Ushijima, did you find someone?”

When explaining the concept to him and asking for his approval, you informed him that you would love it if someone spent some of their own time to make sure you had all the right information. The captain seemed to understand what you meant after a moment of thought. He pointed to Tendo, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Satori will meet you for lunch tomorrow,” he said before bowing and leaving. The others followed him, except for Tendo who gulped and stuck around. Is his best friend, the Ushiwaka, playing wingman?

“I’ll meet you by your classroom at lunch then,” you said cheerily. You could feel your little crush blossoming, charmed by how he made you laugh.

“TENDO SATORI!” the coach yelled, done with waiting for the lanky boy.

“I’ll see you then, Grandpa’s calling,” he joked and left you with a soft chuckle.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

[gallusrostromegalus]

Okay but given that crows are ready to Throw Down with eagles at the slightest opportunity, I have to know- 1) are there crows in the Seireitei and 2) how much of their Daily Enrichment is causing problems for the 11th Division on purpose?

There absolutely are crows and jays and even ravens in the Seireitei and very nearly all of their daily enrichment is causing some level of mayhem at every division of the Gotei-13,

...except the 11th.

See, Zaraki has the distinct advantage over most eagles in that he is also a human, with a canny eye for social dynamics, and he's worked out a deal with the local corvids. He noticed the pair of ravens on the roof of the 11th the first afternoon he was there, made a note of them, carefully folded it up, and put it in his mental back pocket for later.

The ravens didn't actually notice him that much on the first day because there was an entire bisected corpse of the former Kenpachi and the medics were delayed in retrieving it for some reason so that meant lungs and liver and a spleen and gallbladder and a special course of freshly exposed brains before an eyeball each for dessert while some poor wretch from the 4th completely failed to chase them off with a broom. They did very much notice him in the middle of the afternoon on the second day, when he returned from the early morning captain's meeting they had slept through, on account of yesterday's food coma. -But even still sluggish with guts full of guts, they still sat up and took notice of a man wearing, loud, shiny and extremely steal-able BELLS.

A-ho, A-ho! Called the first raven from the middle boughs of the pine in the courtyard as the new Kenpachi sat down on the porch that surrounded the small and rather pathetic little garden, sighing deeply. What's this that jingle-jangles in like a jester and sighs and settles like a corpse at the bottom of a lake?

A great way for your mate to lose her beak if she gets any closer. He growled back, and the raven on the roof behind him startled, flapping away out of his blade's reach.

A-joke! A-joke! Don't hiss and rattle so! She huffed, joining her wife on the pine and ruffling her feathers.

It might be amusing sport on another day, but I have no humor to speak of. He clattered, turning his patch-covered eye to them in apology. I have suffered a bereavement.

A-no! A-no! Who is it who has died? Asked the first raven.

One who granted me the knowledge of letters, and further so, the wisdom of tales- in telling, and moreso in listening. Thrice blessed by her I was, and only now do I learn of her demise, fifty years too late. He explained, rubbing his temples and shaking his head, trying to soothe himself.

A-woe! A-woe! cooed the second raven in agreement. Any who teaches is a living saint, and their passing the most terrible loss.

A-woe, A-woe! the first raven cooed in sympathy. She didn't leave clutch or wife for you to look after?

She had a husband, but I do not know his name, and he is apparently deceased as well. The Kenpachi frowned. Her brother yet lives- he is my colleague even, and how I learned of this. A wretched way to meet someone she spoke so highly of- but you are right, he needs looking after. He is... unwell, and was never thriving to begin with, but the same sort of saint of words as she, and much braver than his body should allow. Of course, I will look after him for her, as is right.

A-woe, A-woe- A wretched meeting but the right and honorable thing to do. Nodded the second raven.

A-woe, A-woe, but this is not the source of your miserable sighing? asked the first. No, his care does not worry me- The Kenpachi shook his head, folding a leg up and resting his elbow on it and his cheek on his hand in turn. It's that I am left to wonder- If I had known sooner, or even before this catastrophe, if there was something I might have done. But you are interesting company so I will divert myself from useless morose- what do you call yourselves, carrion queens that live beneath my roof?

I am Mun-Yin! Declared the second raven, that spoke only in statements.

If she is Mun-Yin, might I then be Hau-Yin? Asked the first, who spoke only in questions.

You might. The Kenpachi nodded.

A-so? A-so? Who might you be that wears the shredded rags of a dead man like a pauper, but speaks with the grace of a prince? Hau-Yin asked, hopping from the pine to a closer boulder, cocking her head at him.

A-ho! A-ho! It may be your house that supports our nest, but we live above your roof, not under it! Mun-Yin laughed, hopping closer as well.

I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the 11th division! He smirked at the birds who rolled their eyes at him.

A-no! A-no! Pouted Mun-Yin We didn't ask for your NAME!

A-no! A-no! Sulked Hau-Yin Who ARE you?

The Kenpachi regarded them for a moment, then lifted his head from his hand and leaned forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. Would you like to know a secret?

A-yo! A-yo! We love a secret! Said Mun-Yin, bouncing in excitement.

A-yo! A-yo! Do we not spend all day learning all the secrets of the city? Giggled Hau-Yin.

Then I will offer you a trade- The Kenpachi grinned, beckoning then closer. -I'll tell you who I am if you promise to leave my hair-bells alone.

Hmmm... the ravens considered, then shook their heads.

A-low, A-low, those are some very shiny jingle-jangle bells, and that's but one measly little secret. frowned Mun-Yin

A-low, A-low- Agreed Hau-Yin. That's not much of a trade is it?

On the contrary, it's a very good secret! Maybe the best secret in all of the Seireitei! The Kenpachi wagged his finger at them. Nobody knows it but me and my daughter, so it's very exclusive! And the risk is all on my end- some secrets are dangerous to know, but in this case, it would grant you great advantage- it would be DEEPLY embarrassing for me if any of the humans -and whatever Komamura is- were to find out.

Hmmm... the birds considered again, and nodded this time.

A-Quo! A-Quo! Very Exclusive and Deeply Embarrassing Secrets are The Best! We will take very good trade! Agreed Mun-Yin

A-Show! A-Show! Who are you, that we will leave your bells alone? asked Hau-Yin, hopping closer and bowing her head, looking up at him with a mischievously glittering eye.

I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of The Eleventh Division, Father of Yachiru, Great Sword Bastard of the North 80th District, and most relevant to you- Youngest and Most Beloved Son of She Who Rules The Sky.

The ravens stared blankly at him for a moment.

What that fuck? Asked Hau-Yin.

Didn't realize we were speaking to ROYALTY. Muttered Mun-Yin

See? It's a VERY good secret! The Prince Kenpachi grinned, leaning back and lounging a bit- someone like him could make even a bare wooden porch look like a throne. -Also, you see how you DO SO live under my roof! He added, pointing up at the clouds.

The ravens shuffled a bit nervously, reconsidering him.

A-so? A-so? Hau-Yin asked, cautiously, shuffling a sideways to him.-How does Your Highness come to be a Shinigami then?

A-so! A-so! nodded Mun-Yin. Your Highness and We alike are strange enough birds for taking Names, but to take a JOB is unheard of!

It has it's benefits... The Prince Kenpachi shrugged. Alas, I may be Her Majesty's Son, but I did not inherit my mother's wings and guts, so I cannot live on the wind and whatever I might find by the roadside alone. Still- like a Name, a Job both restricts and offers opportunity- I am bound by duty, but I also am gifted a dry and sturdy nest and all the meat I may eat in exchange. And better still- My daughter now has her choice of tutors and scholars to learn greater Wisdom than I ever will.

A-sow! A-sow! Mun-Yin considered. You do reap well in that exchange!

A-though, A-though- considered Hau-Yin. Would you have the chance to reap in such fashion had you the wings of your mother? Are you perhaps Blessed in strange Human fashion?

The Prince Kenpachi laughed. Perhaps I am! Perhaps you may be even more blessed than I- you have wings and carrion-guts, but you are not bereft! I can offer you similar employment, if you should find it agreeable.

A-ho! A-ho! You are in a fine humor now, My Prince! Chirped Mun-Yin.

A-ho! A-ho! What is this Job you have in mind for the like of us? Asked Hau-Yin, intrigued.

I am in much better humor now, thanks to you both. The Prince agreed, offering Hau-Yin an outstretched hand and patting his knee to indicate Mun-Yin should join him too. There is naught you may do against death, but you may yet ease my bereavement- I am am saddened by the loss of my friend, but it's the lateness of the news that worries me. You say you spend all day learning the secrets of the Seireitei, and that you greatly desire Shiny Jingle-jangle bells?

A-so! A-so! Mun-Yin bobbed excitedly, hopping onto The Prince's hand. All over, all over from the high pillars of the execution grounds to the lowest grates where the sewers open up, we fly all over all over My Wife and I! And we see and we hear and we remember all the secrets of the city!

A-stow? A-Stow? You poses yet more shiny shiny bells? Hau-Yin clicked with interest, hopping onto his knee.

I happen to have two such golden bells, even bigger and louder than these, and will happily give them to you- with a Doll's shiny ribbon so you may wear them if you so desire- and other shiny and noisy things as I find them, if you tell to me all the secrets of the Seireitei.

Hmmm... the ravens considered.

A-yo, A-yo- It is a good deal. Nodded Mun-Yin. -But sometimes the winter is cold or the pickings are lean, and there is only so much comfort a shiny jingle-jangle brings when it is so.

A-yo, A-yo- Agreed Hau-Yin. Maybe sometimes a secret is worth a night out of the storm or a scrap of meat instead?

You are both very wise. The Prince Kenpachi nodded and the ravens preened with the praise. I am amenable- The ribbon-bells for all the secrets you know right now, and we can work out what payment is best in the future, when you discover more secrets for me?

A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Mun-Yin, flapping with excitement. Your Highness is as generous as he is wise!

More, I hope! Laughed The Prince Kenpachi. I promise, I am a colossal fool!

A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Hau-Yin What secrets would you like to know first? And may I have a Pink Ribbon?

I would like to know all you know about- hm, that's a tricky question actually.- There are so many things I wish to know! He considered, rubbing his chin, then jumped to his feet, making them hop, an Ancient Bird Game. Let me go get your ribbon-bells first, and make up my mind!

A-ho! A-ho! the Ravens laughed, hopping down the hall after him.

---

"Hey Boss, I found the payroll forms but fuck me if I can make heads or tails of- what's wrong?" Ikkaku called out as he came into the courtyard half an hour later, only to find Yumichika standing in the doorway, frowning pensively with his hand over his mouth.

"I'm not sure anything is wrong, per se-" Sighed Yumichika, waving at the scene before him.

Zaraki was seated on one of the boulders in the courtyard, delicately fastening one of Yachiru's shiny pink hair ribbons around the neck of an exceptionally smug-looking raven in an elaborate bow with a large golden bell in the middle. A similarly adorned Raven perched upon his shoulder, chattering excitedly between fondly preening where his eyepatch parted his hair.

"-but I can't help but think I've seen this scene before..." Yumichika muttered.

"They look like they're all having fun?" Ikkaku shrugged as Zaraki finished the bow and the raven ruffled her feathers into place, making it jangle and Yachiru giggle and applaud from where she sat on her father's knee. The Newly-belled raven hopped around to croak and click at him as well, flapping excitedly, and he put a hand up to stop her, asking her something in the shrill hiss and click of his native Aquiline tongue.

"You ever get the impression The Boss is way more articulate in Eagle than he is in Japanese?" Ikkaku frowned.

"Darling, he learned his Japanese from Bandits and Buskers and in Brothels, his Eagle has GOT to be better than that." Yumichika rolled his eyes.

"-ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Zaraki suddenly bellowed, shaking his finger at the raven in his lap.

Both ravens cawed in objection.

"-THIS IS NOT UP FOR NEGOTIATION! SO LONG AS YOU TWO LIVE UNDER MY ROOF, YOU LEAVE KANAME AND HIS EYEBALLS ALONE." he growled.

The Raven on his shoulder tipped her head, speculating.

"-He is TOO using them, they're there to keep his eye sockets and brain from getting infected with gods-know-what flesh-eating bacteria or whatever. NO. PECKING."

Both Ravens hunched up their wings and turned away, pouting.

"What's-His-Ass in the Fifth? The faintly greasy one that looks like a sad mop? His glasses are fair game, if it will amuse you." Zaraki relented, and both birds perked up. "-Might be worth a bag of potato chips if you can bring me a pair intact." he offered.

"Oh Gods, he's not gonna make me try to add a pair of BIRDS to the payroll, is he?" Whimpered Ikkaku.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ tutor

synopsis: ever since you started tutoring neil in acting, you've been convinced he's absolutely terrible. but when your dad casually mentions neil’s got a play today, you realize you might've been played all along content warnings: fluff, neil being a little menace, mutual pining

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 928

You were hunched over a pile of scripts, watching Neil Perry give another, well, unique interpretation of a soliloquy. His voice cracked with emotion, but… in all the wrong places.

"To be or not to be…" Neil began, attempting Shakespeare with the passion of a man on a mission. Unfortunately, that mission seemed to involve single-handedly destroying the Bard’s finest work.

You let out a long sigh, head in your hands. "Neil, what was that?"

He stopped mid-line, flashing you a sheepish grin. "Was it really that bad?"

You nodded gravely. "Like… epically bad."

Neil chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Great. Then I’ll take it from the top?"

"For the fifteenth time today?" you groaned, shaking your head. "I don’t know how you’re going to pull this off."

"I have you," he said, flashing a confident smile.

That line always got to you. Even if he was hopeless at this, his heart was in the right place. So, despite every fiber of your being telling you to give up and leave him to his stage fate, you stayed. You spent hours together in the Dead Poets' Cave, rehearsing line after line, hoping, praying for a miracle.

A few days later, you were leaving the house when you spotted your dad, Mr. Keating, all dressed up and heading for the door.

"Where are you going, Dad?" you asked, curious.

He glanced back at you with that trademark mysterious grin. "Oh, didn’t you know? Neil has a play today."

Your brain went into overdrive. Neil? The Neil Perry who couldn’t deliver a line to save his life? The same Neil who, just yesterday, had confused Hamlet’s death scene with some kind of impromptu interpretative dance?

"Uh… what are you talking about?" you asked, baffled. "Neil’s terrible at acting. I’ve spent hours tutoring him, Dad. Hours. He's a lost cause!"

Mr. Keating just raised his eyebrows and gave you the look. The one that said he knew something you didn’t. The one that made your stomach drop with realization.

Oh.

Oh.

"Wait…" you stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you telling me—Neil’s been… pretending to be terrible this whole time?"

Keating chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He wanted more time with his tutor."

Your face flushed instantly. "I—I’m gonna kill him!" you sputtered, grabbing your coat in a rush. "He’s been wasting my time on purpose?"

Keating just smiled knowingly. "I think you’ll want to see the play first."

You stormed into the auditorium just in time to catch Neil on stage, and what you saw nearly knocked you off your feet. There he was, front and center, commanding the stage with ease, delivering lines with power and grace. His timing was impeccable, his emotions raw and palpable. The audience was absolutely enchanted. He was… perfect.

Your mouth hung open in shock. You had spent hours trying to get him to say one line right, and here he was, playing his role like he was born for it. You could barely process what you were seeing.

As the curtain fell and applause erupted around you, you pushed your way backstage, still fuming but also feeling a tiny bit impressed. Neil had some explaining to do.

When you found him, he was in his dressing room, still in costume, grinning like a little kid who had just gotten away with something massive.

"You…" you pointed an accusing finger at him, words failing you. "You’ve been acting like you couldn’t act?"

Neil smirked, casually leaning against the wall. "It worked, didn’t it? We got to spend more time together."

You sputtered, torn between being completely exasperated and, well, flattered. "Neil!"

He stepped closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. "I couldn’t help it. I needed an excuse. You’re a great tutor, by the way."

Your face flushed hot, and you crossed your arms, trying to hold onto your anger. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you’re still here," he teased, his voice warm and playful.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile creeping onto your face. "So, let me get this straight—you’re actually good at this? You just made me sit through hours of you being awful on purpose?"

He nodded sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I might’ve… exaggerated my incompetence. A little."

"A little?" you exclaimed, laughing despite yourself.

Neil stepped closer again, his eyes soft with affection. "It worked, though, didn’t it? I got to spend time with you. And… I think it’s safe to say I learned more than just acting."

You shook your head, half annoyed, half charmed. "You’re ridiculous, Neil Perry."

He beamed at you, stepping even closer, the warmth of his presence making your heart flutter. "But you like me that way, right?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Neil leaned in, catching you off guard as he whispered, "Admit it."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, trying to maintain the upper hand. "Fine. But next time, maybe just ask me to hang out. You know, like a normal person?"

Neil laughed, the sound rich and contagious. "Deal. But you have to admit, my method was more fun."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension evaporating as you finally allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. “I hate how much I like you.”

He grinned, clearly thrilled by your confession. "Likewise."

The two of you stood there for a moment, grinning like fools, and you couldn't help but think that, even if he'd tricked you, it was worth it.

After all, he really did put on one heck of a show.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[tokoyamisstuff]

f! Reader | no warnings

They're all 100% meant to be girl dads. I can't explain why, it'd just be so cute. Literally the safest baby on earth.

Alucard

"I'd trade anything I have just for a child with your eyes."

Sis, that man is dead. 😭 I doubt even with his powers that's in his range of possibility.

No seriously, you'll probably voice your wish metaphorically, meaning it as a compliment, but it will throw him into a full blown existential crisis. He hates not being able to provide you with whatever you want, after all.

The suggestion alone wakes a desire in him that he never even thought about before. He'll secretly dwell in self-pity, fantasizing about what it'd be like.

At some point, he cannot bear that it'd stay a mere dream and suggest adoption.

Anderson

"Huh? *points to some orphans playing in the background* Don't we have enough already?"

Takes him a moment to understand the gravity of your words. Error. Brain stopped working.

Even if you're already long in a relationship/have been intimate with each other, he'll get adorably bashful at the thought. Is shocked how excited the thought of your belly growing round with his child makes him.

I don't think he's entirely opposed to the idea, but he honestly sees all of the orphans as his kids. There's already so many children without a family that need love and care out there, right?

Well, in the end the circumstances would easily allow it, and he's got enough experience. One more certainly won't hurt.

The Captain

...alright? Doesn't need to be told twice. He is the kind of guy that just goes along with everything his spouse says.

Not to sound indecent but he's a man on a mission, so prepare to be dragged into the next best place to fuck at any given time. Welp, that's how he found out he's got a breeding kink.

Gets even more clingy and openly affectionate than usual. Seriously, he can't wait until it finally happens, he might even be more thrilled than you are.

Walter

"My dear, you have no clue how much your words mean to me."

Delighted and overjoyed. It's been a great wish his entire life, but due to the course of his life he gave up on this naive hope years ago. To ever think he'd be given this chance, and with you of all people...he's truly blessed.

Would be prepared for every eventuality and literally carry you on his hands. You're used to being coddled by him, but this is some queen treatment right here.

His gratitude knows no limits. You'll forever be reminded of how much your family and your willingness to carry this child means to him.

Maxwell

"Wha- why? Am I not enough for you?"

Ugh. Children? He can barely tolerate dealing with people in general. Seriously, you should know him better than that.

Still, he's surprisingly cooperative. If you insist, guess it can't hurt as long as they turn out like you...

The closer the due-date however, the greater his panic and regret. Doesn't think he's cut out to be a father.

Definetly cries like a dog when holding his child for the first time. It's the most precious thing he's ever seen and he ends up being the most loving parent, thriving to give them everything he had lacked as a child himself.

Endlessly showers you in praise for gifting him this miracle, and having convinced him to the best decision of his life. This probably won't be the only child you'll have.

[remlionheart]

can i request a megumi x reader fluff >_<! so like while on a mission due to a cursed technique of the curse the reader gets turned into a child so megumi has to take care of them and yeah they’re dating BUT NOTHING WEIRD JUST MEGUMI TAKING CARE OF CHILD READER PLEASE 😭😭

not a lot, just forever...

intertwined, sewn together...

♡‧₊˚ ⋅ hi lovely! i sat with this idea for a few days thinking of a way to bring it to life because it’s honestly just so cute and the more i thought about meg trying to interact with a child, the more my heart melted. ((i also realized that this is the very first sfw thing i’ve ever posted on here (whoops lol)), it's more of a drabble than a full-fledged fic, but i hope you like it anyway ♡ 0.9k words. the fluffiest of fluff. lemme know whatcha think, luv you ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

Megumi had watched the curse hit you. Watched the way your body went limp after you'd fallen to the ground. He'd held you in his arms, struggling to shove past all of the worst-case scenarios that had invaded his mind before scooping you up and getting you to a safe place while Yuuji and Nobara worked on defeating the curse user who’d done this to you.

He was grateful that you were okay – beyond grateful that you were still with him and somehow mostly unscathed, but...

He never expected to see you like this. He hadn’t even heard of the curse that had struck you until now and the effects of it were... surreal, to say the least. He knew this version of you from old pictures he'd seen and stories that you’d told him over the last year you'd been dating, but he never in his life thought that he'd one day be standing face-to-face with 7-year-old you…

"Hey," your voice was impossibly light, your tiny hand tugging at the sleeve of his uniform. "What's your name?"

The wheels in his head weren't just spinning anymore, they were fully lifted off of the ground and exploding into the air as he looked back at you, desperately searching your face to try and figure out if you were still there or if he was really, truly in the presence of child-you who hadn't met him yet.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound calmer than he felt. If he was this disoriented, he couldn't imagine what you must be feeling, especially at the age you suddenly were.

"My name's Megumi." He said placidly, crouching down to become eye level with you. "And you?"

You giggled, the most innocent, wholesome giggle he thought he'd ever heard as you bashfully introduced yourself to him.

"That's a pretty name." He soothed, silently racking his brain for a way to explain why you needed to come with him.

He'd never really been great with kids, even when he was one. At this age, his dad had already abandoned him and he was being faced with the crippling reality that he was going to be sold to the Zenin clan. He'd been forced to grow up at such a rapid rate that the adults around him had never bothered to speak sweetly to him or treat him how they should've. He wasn't allowed to simply be a first grader with first grader problems, he was expected to be a man.

Though he might not have not known the perfect way to interact with you, the longer he stared back into your big wonderous gaze, he realized that he certainly knew how not to act from the people that had failed him. He couldn't undo the past for himself, but what he could do was be the adult that he wished he would've had at 7.

"Hey," he finally said, flashing you the steadiest smile he could manage, "You don't like..." He put a finger to his chin, scrunching his face for emphasis as he pretended to think. "Strawberry mochi, do you?"

Stars filled your eyes while your small hands clapped together. "That's my favorite!" You squealed, completely enthralled by the fact that he'd somehow managed to guess it on the very first try.

"Really?" He asked, trying to mimic your excitement, "Mine too. Do you wanna go get some? My friend Shoko has tons of it."

You nodded emphatically; all 120 centimeters of you ready to run there though you had no idea which way to go yet.

"Alright," Megumi said, "But you gotta do me a favor and stay close to me until we get there, okay?"

Thankfully, he'd been able to move you to a secluded area before the curse had turned back the hands of time, but he still wasn't going to take any chances. He summoned his dogs, biting back a sincere smile when he heard you cheer, "Puppies!"

They were equally as ecstatic to see you too though. Both of them wagging their tails and leaving slobbery kisses across your face while you laughed, the two of them acting as if they really were puppies and not deadly shikigami.

He gave you a couple of minutes to pet them before redirecting their focus and reaching for your hand. Both dogs immediately got into formation, guarding you while you began your journey back to Shoko's office.

"So – Megumi."

"Yeah?"

"Ummm," you sputtered, trying to think of what question you wanted to ask him first. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Favorite number?"

"Seventeen."

"Favooorriitteeeee.... food?"

"Anything that pairs well with ginger."

You made a face like you'd tasted something bitter, shaking your head as you giggled at his response. "What abouttt yourrr....favorite... person?"

He smiled to himself, squeezing your tiny hand in his. "Well..." He said, pausing to look down at you. "I think right now, I'd have to say it's you."

"Me?" You beamed, "Really?!"

"Always."

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

[urinarythreatinfection]

Is This Love?

Luffy x male reader. Angst(?) Slowburn still. 1703 words Part one, Part three, Part four

Desc: You confessed to Luffy and he tries to find out what it means to him.

You’ve started sleeping in the men’s quarter’s again. It was hard to get some sleep at first, but life at sea is tiring, especially with the occasional marine attack and random weather conditions. Your body will shut itself down eventually. Unfortunately, someone else isn’t having much luck tonight.

“Hnnnnnnnn..”

Rustle

“Hrrrmmmmmmm”

Rustle rustle

“Hnnnnngaahh!” Luffy sits up quickly, his arms in the air. “Can’t sleep.” A shoe is thrown at his head by Sanji. “Ow!”

“Then go outside instead of bringing us into it!” The chef barks while the rubber man rubs his head. He pouts while getting up, making his way out onto the deck.

“waaatchhhh… night watchh.. heheheh. As if I even need to. Who would even dare approach the ship of the GREAT Captain Us-”

“Usopp.” The sniper feels a hand on his shoulder.

“EEAAAAAAHHH!” He screams and bursts into tears, ready to plead for his life before realizing it’s just his friend. “Oh. Luffy.” He has a hand on his chest, quickly pretending nothing happened. “Why are you up?”

“Wh- What happened!? Did you scream!?” A large muscular human reindeer runs over. “Luffy?” Fwoosh, back to small.

“I scared a bird, that’s all. I already took care of it.” The captain tries to open his mouth but is quickly shushed by Usopp. “You couldn’t sleep, right? Why?”

“(Y/n) sleeps back in his bed now but he still doesn't talk like before.” Changing the subject works, why wouldn’t it.

“Like before?” The two crewmates ask.

“Yeah like, he doesn’t.. look at me, the same. Like it’s… different. Not as warm.” He wracks his brain to explain, making weird hand signals because he can’t translate his thoughts into words he knows properly.

“Loving? Caring? Like you’re the only thing that matters in this unforgiving world?” Usopp finishes and Luffy nods, similar enough. He hums while nodding, eyes closed with a hand on his chin.

“Seems like he fell out of love with you.” The sniper states after a bit of fake pondering for dramatic effect.

“Out of love?” Chopper and Luffy ask before Usopp nods.

“I mean, you rejected him, right? Even outed his feelings in front of all of us, sounds like he just moved on. Let the feelings fade out into the wind.” He explains while the doctor nods. Luffy’s brain goes empty-er as he lets how he feels translate into thoughts,

“I didn’t reject him” and out through his mouth. The two previously chatting teens stop.

“You didn’t?” They ask and Luffy shakes his head.

“I just called him weird, then he didn’t say anything else.”

…

Is that not a rejection?

“Is that not a rejection?” That’s what I said. Usopp furrows his brows, trying to see through his friend’s eyes. “Did you also stay silent?”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” The sniper hums, he would definitely start ugly sobbing if someone he was in love with did that to him.

“You could’ve said, ‘Thank you for your feelings, I do not feel the same way.’ If he continues then scold him.” Chopper says with a hoof on his chest. Very kind. “Or kick him off a mountain.” Two different parents taught him two different things.

“That could kill someone..” Usopp points out, slightly concerned. Chopper nods.

“If they survive they ask for your help and then you have a new customer/patient.” What did Dr. Kureha teach him? The long nosed man stares at Chopper in concern and shock before Luffy speaks.

“I don’t wanna do that.”

“Well yeah he’s still our friend, kicking him off a mountain is a bit mu-”

“I mean, I don’t wanna lie.” He clarifies and Usopp stares at his friend, lips jutted out still from being interrupted.

“Lie?” The small reindeer asks instead and the captain nods.

“I do have feelings for him. I just.” Luffy motions at his chest, “Just…” This is why he couldn’t sleep. “I don’t know what love like that is. Being in love. He’s in love with me and I love him but I don’t know what my love is if he feels like that.” Luffy feels platonic love easily, he feels joy and happy and angry all very easily. Even something like excitement from a woman’s chest he can feel via living through Usopp, but romantic love he doesn’t know a lick about feeling. Passion and smooching, hugging and holding hands, staring into each other's eyes. You could do that all with a friend, mostly, so what’s the actual difference? It’s not like lust is the difference either since people do stuff without loving each other all the time.

“Romantic love…” Hiriluk loved Drum Island and Dr. Kureha loved having fun. “Romantic love is having big antlers and sturdy fur.” Chopper reverts to what he learned when he was a wee baby. Luffy rubs his own head, no antlers. In response to his captain’s confusion, Usopp speaks confidently.

“It’s okay. They call me Captain of Love Usopp for a reason!” He strikes a pose and Chopper claps. “Love is like the warm sun on a snowy day, a ray of light peeking through storm clouds, an oasis in a desert. It’s the light at the end of a tunnel.” A lot of metaphors, but not a lot of actual explanation. It’s not doing much good, though Chopper at least seems into it. The rubber man isn’t as interested though, realizing this isn’t answering much of his questions. He looks down.

“I don’t want (Y/n) to be out of love with me if he’s like this because he doesn’t love me romantically anymore.” Luffy mumbles to himself, deciding to go to the restroom. Maybe that’ll help.

“Amorrr is- Luffy? Where’d he go?” Usopp looks around, realizing he’s gone. He looks down at Chopper, who’s expecting more. The sniper clears his throat and continues. “Love is like!” You get the point. Chopper doesn’t know about romantic love much, even as a reindeer. They don’t usually love romantically to mate, while both Hiriluk and Dr. Kureha were interested in their medical endeavors and danger. As for Usopp, he’d been on the same island all of his life always focusing on other things to ever truly register romantic love. His sick mother, her death, then trying to become a brave warrior of the sea. No parents to teach him either. His assumption was it would be figured out once on the ocean, being surrounded by lovers and admirers all the time. Neither of them can help Luffy, at least not in the way he needs.

So what does Luffy need? He doesn’t know, and neither do they. So he goes to the restroom.

“Love…” Luffy says while sitting on the toilet, not going or anything, just for thinking. “Loovvee. Loav.” Repeating it isn’t helping, “Louuvee, loaf.” though it is cheering him up. “Shi shi shi!” He laughs a bit, then stands up. This didn’t give any answers, but he won’t stress about it. Things will work out eventually. Luffy splashes water and soap on his hands, dries them off, then leaves the restroom. He goes back to the men’s quarters. Before going back to his own bed he stops by yours. “...” He crouches down and stares at you. “..luv.” A small mumble before flopping onto his mattress. His heart and mind feels clearer.

Meanwhile, your eyes open, what was that about?

_____________________

‘Why’d he just stare at me? Or maybe he wasn’t? My eyes weren’t open but I definitely felt his body heat and breath.’ You think to yourself as you poke at your food with a scowl, finally taking a bite out of it.

“Luffy’s gonna steal it if you don’t eat in time.” Nami tells you, pointing to your plate with her fork. On cue, the captain tries to reach for her food, hand smacked away before he could grab anything. No time for thinking during breakfast, but you’re on dish duty today. That should give you a chance to think.

“Hey.” A voice says behind you and you almost drop the plate you’re rinsing off. It’s Sanji. “So… about you and Luffy.” He starts, looking awkward. “You’re really in love with that id- with him?” He’d like to insult Luffy but feels it’s not the time.

“Way to bring it up again.” You grumble, placing the last dish to dry.

“Did he reject you?”

“Yeah, obviously. Don’t know what I expected to happen.” You don’t really feel like talking about it but he’s asking so you answer.

“Are you sure?” The chef asks and you look back at him, irritated.

“Hell you mean ‘are you sure?’ I’m pretty sure, dude.” Your eyes glare at him. “He called me weird and acts like I’m a specimen now.” Your sass makes Sanji frown back.

“I’m trying to help you, dumbass. Luffy’s not like other people. What you think might be a rejection can be something else entirely. He could say someone has a strong smell and consider it a compliment.” He lights a cigarette, annoyed at the attitude. “You could’ve read him wrong.” It’s a bittersweet thought that you just misunderstood.

“Even if I did misunderstand, so what? It’ll still mean a rejection, just in his own way.” You’re too stressed to talk about this. You were already trying to move on.

“He asked me about love yesterday.” Your eyes widen. “Usopp and Chopper said the same thing happened the day before.” Sanji says after taking a breath of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window. “That’s what I mean, but if you’re going to be a dick about it-” He leans into your face “-I don’t have to tell you anything.” He says mockingly.

‘Asshole.’ Though you were mean first, technically. Still, you really want to know the details. You clench your jaw, then speak. “I’m sorry for being an ass, tell me.”

“Huh? What’d you say? Tell you what?” He puts a cupped hand to his ear.

“Tell me more about what Luffy asked you.” He continues to stare at you until you sigh. “Please.” That gets a satisfied smirk out of him.

“Should’ve just said so.” You hold in your anger so he can continue. “What Luffy asked me…”

Cliffhanger wooaaaAAOoah. But still, theres another chappa. I already had a good portion of this one finished but the next one will prob take longer. Also my bad if this one was more comedic than you would like, all of my stuff ends up having a moment like that, plus moments with Usopp always tend to be unserious. I thought about not posting this immediately after it was done to space stuff out but.. nah. Not my style ig. Comment if you want, idk. Havent done slow burn in a long and by a while i mean years and also only like 2 or 3 times.

Next

[frvnkcastles]

I'd love something where the reader used to work at The Beef from the bear show, bur had to move to NYC and met Frank, she ends up feeding him the best Beef this side of the east coast and he instantly falls in love, then she makes him the Family Spaghetti and he's like "I wanna fuckin marry her" internally? Fluff?

But the reader is very much cooking out of stress as that's how she feels she can i guess win people over to stick around?

(I was the cunt in school on wedges day where I'd shout every one in my group wedges since otherwise I think they wouldn't stick around me,I wasn't smart enough for them but I paid for food.

I still do this with my baking business)

HONEY, DON’T YOU LEAVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You and Frank bond over your cooking, but you can’t shake the feeling that that’s all he wants from you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, language, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Gahhhhh, I am so annoyed that I’m being so slow with requests but college is back in motion and it has NOT been a soft landing, I have been immediately flooded with things to do. On top of that I’ve just been really tired and unmotivated, but I’m trying my best to write at least a little every day! Anon, thank you so much for your patience. I don’t really do crossovers so it’s never specified where the reader worked before, but I hope you like it anyway! I’m sending you so much love <3

Frank fell in love with you quicker than he cared to admit. He had closed himself off from the possibility of finding someone new, not really interested in making connections of any kind, but you came and conquered his heart with immense ease.

It was complete luck, too. It wasn’t unusual for him to pay a visit to a diner for some food and coffee, but you definitely weren’t supposed to be there. You had a history of working in fairly successful restaurants, yet when you had moved to New York, you faced great difficulty with landing a job that you actually wanted. The places you thought were right on your level turned you down, but you needed money for rent, so you lowered your standards, and wound up working for a diner — the same one Frank stumbled into that night.

It had been mostly uneventful and quiet, and you were left alone with the responsibility of closing. There were no other customers except Frank, but he didn’t seem that open to conversation, so you stayed stationed behind the cash register.

And then, two armed men burst in, their faces concealed with ski masks as they held you at gunpoint. With shaky hands, you began to empty the register, but you didn’t have the time to hand over all the money when one of the guys was knocked out to the ground. You flinched, watching in shock and fear how your only customer beat up the other guy and wrangled the gun out of his hands only to whip him in the face with it. You didn’t know what to do, but it seemed he didn’t need your help — within a minute, both armed men were rushing out of the diner with their tails between their legs.

Stunned speechless, you stared at the tall, rugged man who remained. He caught his breath and then turned to you, his sharp features making you swallow. ”You okay, ma’am?” he grunted, his deep voice incredibly enchanting, and you managed a nod. He was about to turn and return to his seat but you found your voice and spoke up.

”Thank you. Let me make it up to you”, you uttered out, making him halt but the look he gave you was almost amused.

”You don’t owe me anythin’, ma’am”, he replied casually, but you weren’t budging.

”Well, I kinda do. Anyway, the food here is… not that great, so maybe you could let me cook for you? Um, we’re closed tomorrow so there’d be no one else here”, you explained, the words coming out of your mouth before your brain fully processed what you were promising him. You were really yearning to cook again, something other than eggs and bacon, and he had definitely earned it.

He eyed you up and down, weighing his options for a second before reluctantly nodding. ”Aight. If you insist”, he agreed, sparking a smile on your face as you nodded to confirm that you weren’t having it any other way. You told him what time to arrive, and as he returned to finish his sandwich, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The next day, you got to the diner early and started working on what you hoped would be a meal to remember. You were mostly excited, and at least cooking kept you busy, which meant you didn’t have the time to worry about being alone with the man. Although he had saved your life, it was hard not to be intimidated by him.

As soon as he arrived at the diner, though, he quickly proved to you that there was nothing to fear. He called you ma’am right up until you told him your name and insisted that there was no need to be formal, and when he introduced himself, he did it in a way that was undeniably charming — and polite. You had seen him around the diner enough to know that he wasn’t a chatty person, but as you brought out the food, he attempted to get to know you better and it made your heart race.

You maintained small-talk, but you couldn’t deny you were nervous to find out what he thought of the food. Once he dug in, though, his eyes immediately widened.

”Wow”, Frank blurted out, a little taken aback by the sheer deliciousness. ”Sweetheart, this is amazin’. Where’d you learn how to cook like this?” he inquired, far too curious to not ask.

With heat on your face, you smiled. ”Uh, well, cooking classes mostly. I used to work at a restaurant. Hopefully I will again some day soon. And a lot of practice at home, of course”, you explained, and nodding along your story, Frank divided his attention between the heavenly food and your equally enthralling voice.

”I bet you will. Your talents are wasted in this place”, he commented, making you chuckle softly.

He didn’t stop praising you throughout the meal, but he also asked follow-up questions, keen to learn everything about you. In return, he vaguely opened up about himself, though you could tell he was holding back a little.

That said, the time you spent in that diner over that meal was enough for him to get hooked on you. He kept stopping by for weeks until he finally got the nerve to ask you on a date, suggesting that you’d make dinner together. It hadn’t taken you long to start falling for him, either, so it was easy to agree to what you didn’t realize would bloom into a serious relationship.

Truthfully, you sort of skipped the casual phase. Frank could be an intense man when it came to relationships, even if he hadn’t really thought he would find himself in one. Nevertheless, he felt strongly about you early on, and your first date developed into constantly spending time at each other’s places and sharing a bed on most nights. He tried his best to impress you with his cooking, and while it certainly wasn’t awful, there was a lot you could teach him — and he received the help willingly, eager to listen to you and learn more about your number one passion.

The night that you cooked the spaghetti recipe that your family had followed for years, he was done for.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so captivated by you, and the food, he would have noticed the tension in your shoulders and the constant chewing on your bottom lip. You were quickly falling back into the bad habit of weighing your own worth based on your cooking, convinced that the moment you’d stop making all these elaborate meals for Frank, he would walk out on you. Your way with food was undoubtedly a perk of dating you, and right now, you were struggling to think of any other ones.

”I hope you like it”, you smiled nervously as you handed over the plate of spaghetti to Frank. He gave you an affectionate look and thanked you before giving the food a go, and in an instant, his heart soared.

The food was amazing, but so were you. You had so much talent in you, and when Frank looked up from the plate and met your gaze, he felt so much love in his heart. He admired you and everything you did, finding you so utterly beautiful and amazing and… God, he wanted to marry you.

He had to fight the urge to just announce it there and then, giving you a small smile. ”I’m speechless, sweetheart. You outdo yourself every time. I’m one lucky asshole”, he declared proudly, making you smile but you couldn’t hide the anxiety in your eyes. Would he consider himself lucky if you didn’t cook for him tomorrow?

He noticed the hesitation on your face, though. ”Hey, darlin’. Somethin’ wrong?” he asked with worry evident in his voice, and you rushed to wave it off.

”I’m okay. I’m glad you like it, baby”, you promised, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

Only a week later, the issue resurfaced. You came down with the flu and you were rendered useless for a couple of days, giving you a great deal of stress. Frank was all over you, providing you with medication as well as something to drink and eat — and he was not letting you do a thing by yourself. You were his patient to care for and any attempt to get up from the couch was shot down within seconds.

Once his attention faltered from you and he disappeared in the bedroom to find you a cozy sweater, you made your way to the kitchen. Sniffling and aching all over, you began taking out pots and ingredients, and the noise immediately alerted Frank.

”Nah, nah, sweetheart, what’d I tell ya? You ain’t doin’ a thing except rest tonight. You’re sick and you need to just lay down, aight?” he reminded with a firm tone, his hands coming to cover yours in an attempt to stop you.

Reluctantly, you admitted defeat but it didn’t take long for the frustrated, anxious tears to fill your eyes. Frank’s stern expression fell and he tilted his head down at you, concern taking over.

”Hey, hey, hey. I know it sucks but you need to listen to your body right now”, he sighed, trying to understand what was making you cry. You covered your face with one hand as the tears streamed down your cheeks, and with his heart breaking, Frank hauled you into his arms, shushing you softly while wrapping you in a tight embrace.

”I just don’t want you to leave me”, you admitted faintly, and right away, Frank’s eyebrows knitted together and he pulled back to give you a confused look.

”Sweetheart, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Why would you say that?” he frowned, genuinely surprised by your confession.

With a sniffle, you shrugged. ”You love my cooking. And I guess it’s the main reason you’re with me. So, if I stop cooking… why would you stay?” you explained the logic that you had built inside your own head. But Frank didn’t agree with you, and the fond chuckle that he huffed at you was enough to imply as much.

”Baby, I do love your cooking, but it definitely ain’t the main reason I’m with you. I love you, hear me? I’m with you ’cause you’re so fuckin’ kind and understanding and real supportive. And you make me so goddamn happy. I’d still be just as in love if you stopped cooking for good, yeah? It’s great but it ain’t why I adore you so much”, he countered while lifting one hand up to your jaw and tipping it so you could meet his eye. He looked completely serious, and you really wanted to believe him.

”You mean that?” you asked carefully, and he wasted no time in nodding to confirm.

”I fuckin’ mean it. I, uh… I kinda wanna spend the rest of my life with ya”, he cleared his throat, and astonished to hear that, your eyes flew wide open and a wide smile curled your lips up high.

”Frankie… I want that, too”, you breathed out, earning a tender look from him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, the soft feeling of his lips making your heart do somersaults.

”Hey, I’mma take over the cookin’ responsibilities this week. You just get cozy on the couch and I’ll whip somethin’ up for us, yeah?” he decided, and you shot him a teasing grin.

”Sure you can handle it?” you wondered, taunting him, and he responded with a mixture of a laugh and a scoff.

”My girl’s a comedian now, huh? Get outta here”, he grumbled, gently patting your ass to encourage you towards the couch.

He may not have been as good of a cook as you were, but he made an effort and stayed true to his promise, not letting you anywhere the kitchen until you were feeling much better. And even then, he insisted on helping or occasionally being in charge, just to show you that you were a team and you didn’t owe him anything.

[truuskn]

more idw-2 prowl!!

i'm crying, he's so vindictive, geez. yeah, be careless and make some mildly negative comment towards his pet dinosaur and you'll get it in the future! the behaviour of a grown up person

the entire comics my bro is literally:

BTWW, he literally got so angry about some stupid second-rate tv show that at one point instead of working he interrupted the recording of the report and started telling the news presenter everything he thinks about her and her programme, MY GOD. he's so dad core. he sits in front of the tv every evening and grumbles about everything that's on it and then retells it to everyone who gets in his way while they pray he'll shut up about politics for at least a few seconds

once again i would like to remind you that prowl is literally being used to explain someone's bad mood. i'm more than sure it happens on a regular basis. all over the cybertron

aaand still he's a cutie sometimes. look at him. he says it with such a tender expression on his face (which of course no one sees except the readers. no one will know he has feelings, nope!)

btw, i like headcanons about strongarm being amazed by prowl as a historical figure (usually in the tfp universe?) but i find it much funnier if their duo is "a dad and a daughter who is turning more and more like her father over time, what at first irritates her, but then she accepts it" (i am such a daughter)

prowl: my child, are you okay? 🥺 you're okay, yes? that's great 🥺

prowl after a few minutes, remembering he's an asshole: MY CHILD, YOU ARE STUPID AND I HATE YOU, GRAAAH!!!! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE HERE HAVE A BRAIN!!!!!

let's add a little sadness to this post

can you imagine how prowl felt and acted when the connection to rubble was cut off? what did he do? did he freeze in shock? did he drop everything and rush off to find the boy? did he remember his duty and report to chromia first about this call? what was it like to look at the body of that child? to tell bumblebee what had happened? tell him that he was the one who had heard his last words, the words of desperation, pleas for life? of course he had often seen death, corpses, brutal murders, violence, but you never get used to it, especially when it concerns a young soul, not someone who's already lived their life. "rubble, what's happening?!" - i hear him calling boy's name over and over again and something inside of me tears up

also. this. damn