#so yeah much easier for me to write than draw

[ygodmyy20]

Day 7: Happy Birthday, Teru.

Reference: https://i0.wp.com/img.screencaps.us/202/3-nimona/full/nimona-animationscreencaps.com-467.jpg?ssl=1

I have wanted to draw this pose ever since I saw the movie. This was the perfect opportunity. I really wanted to draw something that made me feel calm and happy. This is the result.

A little extra snippet for everyone as well. Enjoy!

--

Soft heels pad across a midnight-cast rooftop, the loud boisterous sounds of the party fading into the background like sun setting below the horizon.

The air is moist and thick with spring-time mildew. It sticks to the ground, making everything wet, and layering the world in a slight chill.

The pair sit down on the edge of the rooftop and the taller of the two smiles. "Thanks for stepping away from your own party for me," he says, fingers playing with a brightly colored gift in his lap.

A wave of a hand and a snort, "You know I never mind Shige. Besides," he leans foreword, eyeing the gift with sparkling blue eyes, "I see you have something for me~?"

Shigeo nods and passes the gift over, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement, but barely visible in the dark blue of midnight. "I do. Happy Birthday, Teru," he leans over, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Teru (even after all these years) blushes, waving his hands up and down as he takes the gift. "Ahh stop it you!" He places the gift in his lap, blue eyes softening. He stares down at it and then tilts his head up, looking out at the night sky in front of them.

After a few more seconds of pause, he finally says, "You know. If it's okay... can I open it later?"

"Of course. You probably know what it is anyway, you did give me a list."

A boisterous laugh escapes his lips, which then slides like melting ice into a soft smile. He sets the gift to the side and scoots closer, intertwining their hands as he nestles his head on his husbands shoulder. "Honestly... I love parties, but I love just sitting here with you just as much. It's a really beautiful night."

Shigeo tilts his head down, rubbing his face into blonde hair. "Mmm. I like it too."

A breeze picks up, ruffling their clothes, the scent of wet concrete tickling their noses. Cars drive past below, rumbling in and out of sight.

Even deep in the city, the sounds of crickets in a nearby park float aimlessly through the breeze, filling the edges of the sounds.

The tranquility is broken by thumping footsteps and a door swinging open loudly, startling to two as they turn towards the sound.

"Birthday Boy!!" Shou yells, "Stop smooching and get down here for you cake!!"

Teru glares, "Shou, I was just enjoying a moment, how do you always know when to ruin it..."

A shrug, "Eh, I just have amazing timing like that."

Ritsu also pops his head out the door, hand already on Shou's collar, "I can give you guys 10 minutes, but if you don't come down by then this," he shakes Shou, "is going to eat your cake."

Shigeo lets out a breathy laugh, "Thanks Ritsu. We'll be back down soon."

Ritsu nods, pulling Shou away as the other yelps in frustration.

Teru tries to keep on his annoyed face but it dissolves into a cracked smile as he leans back into Shigeo's shoulder. "He's such a dork."

Shigeo answers with a hum, pressing close.

Even in the city, the stars are visible, dancing above them in a quiet hum. A far off symphony that they cannot hear but the light sings like strings reverberating through the night. Mixing with the low drone of the city, an ambient tranquility that rests light on their shoulders.

Shigeo squeezes their intertwined fingers. "Happy Birthday, Teru."

[shepards-folly]

It wasn’t even really your fault. I don’t know why I can’t let go of it.

You’re allowed to be mad at me! You know that right?

You’re allowed to be hurt, Fin…

[allthatdivides2]

my brain telling me to go back to reading reddie fic 24/7 by making me dream about them last night

[tradingjackbs]

i keep getting assigned to writer on the things I sign up for and.

I really don't know why I haven't posted Shit in terms of writing 😭😭😭

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[lowkeyremi]

That's my man atsumu x fem!reader

notes: I needed to write smthing for my baby's birthday. fwb tsumu does smthing to a me (it'll end up with getting together bc im silly like that), the samu ver is here

Content: slight language, slightly suggestive, fluff

He smiled at her with those sex eyes of his. Yes, he's giving them to her and not you. Atsumu makes everything so hot and cold, it's hard to tell with him.

She giggles and he laughs too, entertaining her for some pussy. The 'why' is something you will never understand, not when you've had that man down on his knees, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

Your hope is that both of their stupid asses feel your heated glare towards them. They don't notice it though, mainly because you're best friend pulls you out of your thoughts.

"The sooner you get over him the sooner my life becomes easier." Your best friend jokes. Their attempts at lightening your mood are ineffective. How could you be in a better mood when the man of your dreams only wants sex from you? You want him, badly, but he doesn't want you.

This was something you were aware of before sleeping with him. Yet, you took it lightly, and now here you are, pouting over him being with another girl.

"I know, it's just-"

They cut you off, "'it's different between us, he treats me better than his other fucks.' I've already heard the whole shebang." Your friend rolls their eyes with a quick smirk.

"He's a college frat boy, there's no way he was serious if he said something in bed. It was probably to set the mood." You know they're right, you're just being delusional. You want your relationship to be something it's not.

The rest of your day was pretty foul. Just as you thought it couldn't get worse it did. You had to present your presentation, because your partner who was supposed to do it has covid, and your other partner is so bad with public speaking that she freezes up.

Your favorite coffee is the only thing that brings you some joy to your day. You're seated in your favorite booth at your favorite cafe. You take small sips and check your social media feed. It's then when you hear your name being called out.

You don't bother to turn to look because you know who it is. He sits at your booth, unaware of the anger you feel currently.

"Don't you have someone's pussy to be buried into?" You ask with venom.

Atsumu gives you that cute little chuckle, you hate it so much right now. It feels like a tear to your pride.

"Only if it's yers." He suggests with a smirk.

"I'm really not in the mood right now Atsumu, why don't you go entertain that girl from bio." Shit, know he'll know and tease you. He'll probably cut things off with you and-

"Oh her? I was just tryin' to get her to do my presentation, but she turned me down." He says casually. This is probably the only time you'll be thankful for Atsumu's obliviousness.

"I could have helped you with it." He knows you're smart, and he would have asked you...

"There was no way I woulda asked ya. You always make me do the work, and only give me commentary on my work." He says sighing. You watch as he places those big rough hands of his under his chin.

He's so pretty, volleyball has not failed him once. Even though some of your friends hate his hair; you think it's cute.

Those eyes, so pretty and brown draw you in to him. Also his muscles are just right, he's not too buff but he's also not thin to the point you can't see anything.

"Yeah, it's called improving. I really hope you didn't think you'd get through college with a pretty face and money. College isn't just one big party. At least not for me." You lecture and Atsumu listens, he always listens.

"For starters I do my work now, I ain't slept with a teacher since freshman year which was almost two years ago. Thank you very much." He replies to the shade you send his way.

"Anyway, what is it that you wanted?" You ask with a sigh.

"I wanted to check up on ya s'all. My cupcake seemed a lil' outta it today." Fuck his perceptiveness.

"Just tired is all." Atsumu's eyes narrow at your response. Why'd you think you could lie to one of the biggest liars you know?

"The way ya were acting today wasn't as much 'oh gee im tired' but more like 'my sweetie pie tsumu-bear hasn't been paying me any attention.'"

"If you knew, then why where you trying to force it out of me?" You roll your eyes and look back to your phone as to avoid his gaze and your embarrassment.

"I just wanted to hear ya say it because yer so cute." Atsumu is going to be the death of you. He annoys you to no end.

"Just so ya know, I ain't been sleepin' with anyone besides you, sweetheart."

"How do I know you aren't a big fat liar?" The way he smiles when you hiss at him has your heart melting. Why? Why you?

"I'd be an idiot to sleep with someone else when I got the most beautiful girl in my bed all the time." It's so sweet and sincere, his voice is honest you can tell. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest, and that Atsumu shaped hole in your heart is slowly being filled.

"Yeah? What're you trying to say, Tsumu?" You peek up from your phone screen to look at his dark eyes. It catches you off guard slightly, the way he looks at you, like you put the stars in the damn sky.

"I knew ya were kinda clueless but this is something else. I want ya to be my girl."He clarifies and you stop breathing for a second. When you'd fantasize about this you'd never thought his confession would be calm. Atsumu is loud and obnoxious, so this quiet, calmness has caught you off guard.

"Is that a question or a demand?" You ask.

"Not a question, m'already confident in ya wanting me." He's prideful and sometimes it sucks but right now.. it's so hot.

"Okay then, I'm yours." You whisper quietly trying to grasp what you've just said.

"Good, best decision you'll ever make, cupcake." Cockiness is laced in his tone and you roll your eyes.

"I said to stop calling me that," You finally drop your gaze back to your phone, but you aren't even paying attention to the dimly-lit screen. Your brain is exploding right now.

"You're my man now." It finally registers.

"Sure am."

[pedgito]

Okay I'm obsessed with your writing and I need someone to take this because I can't get it out of my head; kissing eddie and him cupping reader's jaw and prying her mouth open to slip his tongue in and finding out the she likes to be manhandled and teasing/mocking her about it 😩💓

author’s note: face grabbing is such a weakness for me i love it so much. this is pretty short but i loved the idea.

cw: 18+ (just to be safe), teasing, hair pulling, face grabbing, slight dom!eddie, established relationship, if i missed anything lmk.

word count: 1k

There was an initial timidness with Eddie at first, a lack of your own experience in relationships mixed with his own, and treading the newness together with open arms. You’ve had silly crushes and meaningless relationships before, but things with Eddie felt different. More solid, more tangible. It felt real. Still, he did intimidate you from time to time.

Eddie loved fiercely and showed it just as such—though, he was a gentle lover, always taking his time with you. You weren’t his first, something he mentioned to you beforehand. Part of you was expecting it to rattle your nerves, but in an odd way it calmed you. He had some guidance, not much, but it made the fumbling less awkward and easier to laugh at—it was better than you could’ve ever asked for, but there was always an underlying sense of intensity with Eddie and you tried to bury that away.

In the back of your mind, you felt it too. You’ve never had the chance to really explore things—what you were interested in, what you liked. Eddie never tried to force anything either, it was all at your own pace. But, that didn’t stop him from teasing you every now and then when he got the inkling that maybe you weren’t as innocent as you were portraying yourself. You knew you weren’t—you’ve just never been that great at expressing you needs and wants.

He’s got you cornered against the edge of the kitchen counter, back pressed into the ridge of the cheap linoleum, slotting your mouth against him in a heated exchange—he was worked up, clearly, the reason unclear. But, you don’t question it, giving him the same amount of emotion back into the kiss, match his small grunts of pleasure, a playful fight emerging between you both. You shove him gently, earning a weak chuckle as he smiles, lips still pressed against yours.

“Ouch,” He replies jokingly, voice low and soft in the quiet hum of the trailer, electricity buzzing overhead, “what was that for?”

“You’re being mean,” You reply with a subtle pout, shoving his wandering fingers away from your side, “stop trying to tickle me.”

“You started it,” Eddie counters childishly, tipping your chin up to look at him, head tilted in amusement, “trying to cop a feel, yeah?”

Eddie draws his pointed gaze to the fingers curled over the edge of his belt, the hem of his jeans, just past the waistband of his underwear. You don’t move them, even after he tries to point it out—you doubled down, yanking at him until he’s flush with your front.

Eddie shakes his head in amusement, the finger that’s tucked under your chin turning into his full hand as he grips you face tightly, a soft grunt leaving your lips at the force of it, cheeks squished tight as he pulls your face toward his, tongue teasing against your top lip before dipping inside, tangling along with your own—it wasn’t the first time you’ve kissed him like this and it wouldn’t be the last—but the roughness, the manhandling—it was new.

And you couldn’t help but notice the faint throb in your cunt at the action, eyes lighting up in wonder before quickly falling shut, letting Eddie devour you as he pleased—your own tongue pressing back against his, showing him that two could play at that game.

But, Eddie loves to tease and he can’t help it—not with how often you tried to feign innocence when you were so far from it.

“Oh,” His voice tips up, eyebrow quirked in interest, “fuck—you like that don’t you?”

You shake your head in an effort to lie and Eddie can’t help but laugh, pulling back to cup your jaw tighter, pulling gently until you’re forced to stand on your tiptoes—he teased you so effortlessly, it was a fucking miracle you could even withstand it this long.

“Don’t lie to me.” He warns, eyes flicking down darkly, searching for the tell of a glint in your own. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip before shoving your head up, straining your neck as he leans down for more, bottom lip pulled between his teeth gently.

You gasp inwardly at that, unashamed and audible to Eddie’s ears, it was like a beautiful melody to him, his face lighting up in delight.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, the stretch only slightly uncomfortable, the pinch of your face a dull ache. Eddie slips a free hand under your thigh, urging your legs up and around him. You shake your head in response.

“You’re a little freak, aren’t you?” He teases, recalling back to the first words you ever spoke to him, teasing him with his branded nickname—it wasn’t something he was particularly fond of, but coming from you? He couldn’t be mad about it, not in the slightest.

You shake your head playfully, struggling against his still stern grip, the cold sting of his rings pressed against the line of your jaw.

“You don’t have to be shy with me, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, eyes softening slightly. “Tell me—really, do you like it?”

You nod impishly, smile tugging at his face in an instant—you’d ignited something you weren’t sure could be sniffed out at this point.

“Trust me—I like how things are now,” Eddie admits, “but I have no problem being a little rough, if that’s what you want?”

You were curious, the thrill of being manhandled so easily all too inciting. You wanted to experience everything with Eddie, if at all possible. The trust you had, it was undeniable.

“Please?” You ask sweetly—and who is Eddie to deny you. “Can we try it?”

Eddie chuckles deeply, the hand that’s holding your face is shooting away quickly, reaching around to cup the back of your, winding tightly into your hair until your movement is minimal, all directed by Eddie’s tight grip.

“I really hope you understand what you’re asking for,” Eddie reminds you carefully, “God—you’re a fucking dream.”

It’s a small slip-up in his act, the faint smile pulling at your face was impossible to ignore, and he fell for it every time.

[eggyrocks]

congrats on 500 followers 🫶🏻 can I get #40 and Kageyama? they’re meant for one another

ur so right for this one it's so aggressively kageyama

500 followers special: #40: "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

kageyama x gn reader, university au, tutoring, jock x nerd dynamic kinda if u squint, fluff, not proofread

written content masterlist

Tutoring is a job. It's a job that pays money. Albeit, pretty shit money, but money nonetheless. So they are going to smile and correct the essays and offer advice and they are not going sit there and pout over how much their student absolutely fucking hates them.

There's not a doubt in their mind that Kageyama would not be here if he didn't have to be. He does not care about his grades. He does not care about the material he writes about or even what he's writing (that much is clear from his essays; they have no point of view and are random regurgitations from text books sloppily thrown together to meet the word count).

It's very obvious to them that Kageyama is there to meet the minimum grade point average required in order for him to stay on the university's volleyball team.

So every Wednesday he ends up in the library with them, watching as they completely massacre his first drafts.

Their red pen draws a lazy circle around his third paragraph. "See, this portion here is in complete contradiction to the point you made earlier."

Kageyama, as he usually does, offers a slight grunt in response, his eyes narrowed at the essay before him, as if it's some sort of challenge for him to conquer.

He's not the best with words. On the page or out loud.

"And in this paragraph here, you're just summarizing again," they explain, red pen making a mess of the paper. "There's no sense of organization, and the way you start to deviate from the argument you laid out in the opening paragraph is gonna make your professor think you don't understand the text."

"I don't understand the text," Kageyama says, matter-of-factly, but there is a twist in his mouth and a slight dusting of pink in his cheeks.

They stop, and blink up at him. Their pen drops, and they lean back in their chair. "Okay, well when you're reading, what are you thinking about?"

Kageyama takes a moment to think. It's one of the things about him they appreciate-he thinks about every question posed to him. He doesn't ever say anything just for the sake of it, or because he thinks it's what he should say.

They appreciate that, among other things. Like the veins in his forearms and the size of his hands and the shade of blue in his eyes when he focuses.

Those things, they really, really appreciate.

"Usually, I'm not thinking about what I'm reading," Kageyama eventually replies, snapping them out of it. "I'm usually thinking about practice."

He's such a jock, they think to themselves, and try not to think of what exactly that makes them.

"Well, that's the main problem then, you're trying to dissect something you're not actively engaging in," they tell him, pushing the paper back towards him. Their hour's almost up. "I'd go back and try to reread more actively."

Kageyama frowns, and if he wasn't constantly frowning and sighing and grunting around him, they would think it's cute. "Okay, I'll try."

They give him a nod. "Text me if you need help going over the text next time instead of reviewing a new draft. Not due for another two weeks, right?" Kageyama gives them a nod in confirmation. "Right, so we'll have time. And try not to stress, okay? Your essays are getting better than when we started these sessions."

He freezes in place. If his cheeks were pink before, they're bright red now. "They are?"

A small smile forms on their face. "Yeah. I can tell you're getting more confident with your writing."

Kageyama's eyes are wide for a second, and then they find his hands, which are knotted together on the table in front of him. "Yeah, well, you're a really good tutor. You make it easier to understand everything."

Now, they can't contain the grin that spreads. The praise is one thing, but the way he's blushing and flustered in front of them is an entire other thing. "Really? This whole time I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you," Kageyama counters quickly and quietly. "You're just a lot smarter than me. It's intimidating."

They pause. "I don't think I'm smarter than you," they muse, leaning back in their chair, and Kageyama's eyes flash up to them. "There are tons of different ways to be intelligent. Just because I can write essays doesn't mean I'm a genius. And isn't that what I've heard about you? You're some sort of genius volleyball player?"

Kageyama still won't look up at them, but the corner of his lips tug up into a slight, barely-there smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

They don't focus on his words, though. They lean forward over the table and try to get a better look. "Holy shit," they almost gape. "Have I entered an alternate universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

It doesn't drop. They half-expected it to. But instead, his smile remains, and Kageyama looks up at them, still blushing and hands still pressed together. "I am capable of it, you know."

It's cute, his smile. Unsure and nervous, like the way he can be, sometimes. "I'd like to see it more," they admit to him.

"You could come see, sometime. Me play. Volleyball, I mean. See if I'm a genius after all," he offers, only stumbling over his words a bit. "That'd make me smile."

Now it's their face that heats up. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Kageyama nods, and then stands to gather his things, swiping his marked up essay off the table between them. "I'll text you," he says, still grinning as he turns on his heel, leaving them to try and cool off their cheeks before the next student arrives.

an: hmmmm. maybe this one was better in my head. but im not dwelling on it.

[choccy-milky]

A few months back, I asked if it was okay to write using Clora and Seb. Finished the work - thought I'd lost it on my hard drive and a virus scan located it.

Not sure if it's sad or happy, but the basic premise of it is Clora getting frustrated/upset at Sebastian and Sebastian comforting her, Sebastian getting upset at a predicament Clora's in and Clora comforting him, and them both getting frustrated/upset and having to comfort each other.

If you'd rather I didn't post it, that's fine too, but just wanted to test the waters and double check that you'd be okay with it if I gifted it to you via AO3, or see if you wanted a sneak peak of it before posting it.

OMG im so happy you were able to find it and recover the work you did!!😭🙏 AND YES OF COURSE YOU CAN POST IT AAA I CANT WAIT TO READ IT!! you can DM it to me first if you want, but i also dont mind if you post it straight away on ao3!! IM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT SM AAARGHHHA💖💖💖IT SOUNDS ANGSTY WE LOVE THE HURT/COMFORT I HOPE MY HEART CAN HANDLE IT🥺💖💖TY AGAIN FOR USING CLORA AND SEB AND TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM😭

@sunshine-goblin AAA THANK YOU!!! im honoured its your fav fanfic AND ALSO THE LONGEST YOUVE READ BAHAHAA fr, when you say its as long as four books in lotr it rly makes me realize how insane i am😃👍 aw IM GLAD I COULD INSPIRE YOU TO DRAW MORE AND WRITE AS WELL😭 I was curious so i creeped you and everyone go look at their HL blog @sunshines-legacy your MC is so cute and so is your art🥹💖 as for tips on writing a longfic and brainstorming and motivation and stuff, my motivation was my brainrot and unhappiness with the canon story/ending LMAOO, and looking at the story of the game and playing around with what i was unhappy with/what i WISHED could have happened instead, was a lot easier than just coming up with plotlines from scratch. but something i highly recommend is just OUTLINING and making a timeline, one of my fav parts of writing was just putting on some cafe ambience in the background and doing stream of conscious type word documents where id just barf ideas and then worry about making it pretty later....like look at how many versions of the same chapter i have BAHAHA or like different renditions bc i couldnt decide if id wanna keep a scene/what order, so id make a timeline and keep smoothing things out until i was happy with it and whatnot

brainstorming is defs my fav part of the process and the most helpful part to me. just getting a blank document and writing stuff you want to happen without worrying about how it connects to the story, and then a lot of the times as i was doing that id just keep going and it would kinda tie itself together/id come up with a solution as i was writing / once the ideas kept flowing. so basically : TIMELINES AND OUTLINES I VERY MUCH RECOMMEND, but very low pressure and barebones ones. for example, this is what my outlines/brainstorming look like

its honestly just me talking to myself LMAO, and a lot of the time ill interject and be like "OH YEAH AND THEN THIS CAN HAPPEN" as the ideas come while im writing BAHAHA. its a super fun process and honestly nothing feels better than just getting hit with that flash of inspo, and since its all very low effort theres no pressure to actually write well and its just a chill fun time AND GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR OWN PROCESS / WRITING💖💖💖it can be difficult but HOPE U HAVE FUN TOO💖💖

@a-little-lysdexic WAIT REALLY?? LMFAOO OMG THATS CRAZY....SAME BRAIN...🤝🤝...that would trip me up so much if i were you omg BAHHAHA but aside from having similar tastes in names, IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY ART AS WELL, TYY💖💖💖

THANK YOUUU im glad you're liking it!!! and that its taking over your life BAHAHA💖💖 the video you're thinking of was by @silverxstardust for chapter 13 of my fic, and you can watch the video here! (AND TY AGAIN TO SILVERXSTARDUST FOR DOING THIS!)

[its-time-to-write]

AH I've been waiting for requests to be open! i love love loveeee your writing!! I've been in dire need (if you feel like writing it lol) of reader comforting jamie after the locker room scene w his dad at wembley.. like maybe instead of roy hugging him the reader swoops in? you do you! thanks!! <3

Listened to 17 Pushing 24 by Sabrina Sterling while writing this. Highly recommend ✌️🥲

i know what i’m doing

Sometimes Jamie wonders if you two are attracted to each other due to your compelling need to take care of everything. 

It certainly was difficult at first, both of you with residual issues due to your upbringing. His as the only son of a single mother, yours as the oldest daughter of a large family. 

Those types of child-caretakers aren’t always compatible. Jamie’s much more lighthearted about the way he tries to control everything, and you’re more serious.

You’d think it would be easier, both of you taking care of each other, except for the small fact that neither of you were capable of accepting help from the other. 

It came to a head one evening when Jamie came home to you crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the tasks you had yet to complete before going to bed. 

“Love, I can help you,” Jamie had said.

“No! It’s my laundry and my responsibility and you already have enough to do without me burdening you even more,” you replied before dissolving into more tears. 

So yeah, it was a whole thing. It involved therapy and everything.

But you’re moving past it. You’re both getting to a point where each of you can receive the same love that you’re giving, however strange it may feel. Jamie even let you stay home from work to take care of him when he was sick a couple weeks ago, something that was pretty much unheard of up to this point.

You’re channeling the need to control things in healthy ways, like having all of AFC Richmond over to Jamie’s giant house for potluck-style family dinners. Or hosting non-video game nights, where FIFA is strictly banned as a form of entertainment. Or themed outings where everyone had to dress as something that shared the first letter of their name and then go see a movie at the local theater. 

Stuff like that. 

You’re the brains, Jamie is the execution. You can see Isaac side-eyeing him a couple times, making mental notes about temporary captains in the event that he can’t play a match. 

Jamie’s gone from Richmond’s resident prick to Richmond’s resident morale-booster.

He comes home one evening with brighter eyes than normal.

“Babe,” he calls before he’s even in the door, “Coach said I can go back to being a prick again.”

“Ted said that?” you ask from your spot on the couch. You’re laying down length-wise with your legs dangling off the end.

“Fuck no,” Jamie replies, “Roy.”

“Oh,” you say as Jamie plops his bags down. You sit up a little so he can have a spot on the couch. He pats his lap so you lay back down, head on his thigh.

“Roy said that Ted fucked me up, so ‘when it’s appropriate’” (he uses air quotes) “I can be a prick to the other team.”

“That’s nice, babe,” you say, “but how do you know when to do that?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach said he’d give me a signal. Don’t know what it is, though.”

You say, “hm,” then lapse into comfortable silence, Jamie’s hand running through your hair.

—

The prick signal worked so much better than you could have thought. It’s the best. You see Jamie go from playing defensively to being completely offensive, screwing with the other team’s heads. You scream and clap as he scores, while Keeley practically throttles you with joy.

Now it’s late after the game, and the lads are all over at Jamie’s. They’re absolutely exhausted, but buzzing with energy. It isn’t until about 1am that they disperse to the various guest bedrooms and pass out on top of each other. You catch a glimpse of Dani cuddling Jan Maas who’s asleep in a starfish position as Colin sneaks in to draw on their faces with sharpie. 

“Don’t tell anyone it was me,” he whispers. You zip your lips and head to the master bedroom and pretty much fall onto the right side of the bed.

Jamie comes in shortly after, saying something about Isaac telling a bedtime story. He burrows under the covers and you quietly shriek because he’s placed his ice-cold hands on your ribcage.

“How are you so cold?” you whisper.

Jamie shrugs sleepily. “Dunno,” he whispers back. “Got ice in my veins, I guess.”

You smile. “You’re tired, aren’t you babe?”

Jamie shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “Nah, ain’t tired. Thinkin’ about our match against Man City.”

He says it casually. Too casually.

You see, both you and Jamie have this thing where the more nonchalantly you say something, the more important it is.

You prop yourself up a bit so you can face him and scratch his head. He sighs and leans in.

“You nervous?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head. “Not to see the team. Lookin’ forward to seeing Pep. It’s just…” he trails off.

You whisper, “Yeah. I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. Don’t forget that. I’m here no matter what.”

Jamie says, “hm,” and then he’s asleep.

—

You’re running. 

You’re running faster than any of the boys on the pitch had run the entire match, and you’re pushing past people in a way that Keeley would later describe as “absolutely fucking feral.”

It happened like this:

The game was over. Richmond lost to Man City.

You were on your way to see Jamie and the rest of the team.

You were, maybe, three floors away? when Rebecca got a text from Ted, showed it to you, and before you knew it you were flying down to the guest locker room to find Jamie.

Of course his dick father would show up to make this day worse. Of course he would.

You’re ducking under security and pushing your way to the locker room in a flurry of motion, then immediately stop.

It’s silent, absolutely silent. 

And so still.

No one moves a muscle as your eyes land on Jamie, clinging to Roy like he’s a lifeline. Roy. Roy Kent, self-proclaimed Jamie-hater and staunch advocate against physical touch.

Jamie’s eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open at the sound of your tentative footsteps. He lets go of Roy for a moment, but only so that you can grab him in the next.

“Right,” says Roy, “Everybody get the fuck out!”

There are no complaints as the lads hurriedly grab their bags and exit the locker room.

Roy nods in your direction before leaving, and Beard mouths, “take your time.” You’re not sure where Ted’s gone off to.

Jamie feels like he’s going to collapse if he stands any longer, crushing you in the strongest grip you’ve ever felt.

“Oi,” you say gently, “let’s sit down, yeah? You don’t have to let go.”

So now you’re on the bench in Jamie’s lap, scratching his head in the way he likes, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Fucking stupid,” he says, voice muffled.

You ask, “What?” because surely that can’t be what he just said.

“I said it’s fucking stupid,” Jamie says, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m a fucking adult. Don’t need to be crying about stupid shit, especially not in front of the lads.”

“Oh, right,” you say before you can stop yourself, “because crying after your dick father tried to swing at you when you set boundaries for the first time ever is a completely unreasonable response.”

Jamie is still in your arms and you cringe. Curse your stupid, logical tongue.

Jamie finally says, “Didn’t think about it like that.” He sighs. “It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing, innit? Him showing up here like that. Didn’t need the lads seeing that.”

You kiss his forehead. 

“The only person it’s embarrassing for is him. Not you. You’re absolutely fine, Jaim. If anything, the boys are going to look at you better for finally understanding the shit you had to grow up with.”

Jamie nods, but you’re not sure if he believes you.

“Jamie,” you say firmly, “It’s not your fault. You handled it the best way it could have been handled. You did a great job.”

Those words seem to do something to Jamie, and his face takes on an expression you’ve never seen before

He asks, “You think so?” in such a forlorn manner than you have the sudden urge to find James Tartt and kick him in the balls with steel-toed shoes. You briefly wonder if Roy and Beard would like to join you.

“Yes,” you reply forcefully, “Yes Jamie. You did a wonderful job in a shitty situation and I’m very, very proud of you.”

Jamie doesn’t reply, just holds you tighter if that’s even possible. He takes a deep shuddering breath, but it’s the first real one he’s taken this entire time. 

“I told you I’m here no matter what,” you say. “Just like all the times you’ve been here for me. Now I’m here for you.”

[elliehase-blog]

Into the unknown

“Ah, Halloween. It makes the heart happy.” Patton turns the lollipop in his mouth, savouring the sweet taste, before removing it with a popping sound. He smiles. “There’s something about it.”

“Oh, there’s many things about it.”

Leaves crackle as Janus saunters past him. As always, he is impeccably dressed, a long coat, hat and yellow gloves. He stares into the distance and Patton wonders what he is seeing there through the autumn mist.

“Yeah, I guess you’d like it.” Patton shoots a smirk at him. “Everyone all dressed up... disguised as someone else.”

Janus spins around, eyebrows contracted in honest disbelief. “How is it that we’ve had so many of these visits and you still know so little about me!”

“Uh... ‘cause you don’t tell me anything.” Patton shrugs, his chest feeling strangely tight.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Janus’s face is illegible, and full of so many changing emotions that Patton becomes dizzy as he tries to decipher them all. “No one is disguised here. It’s just a little... make-believe.”

Janus starts to stare into the distance again, into the unknown. Silently, Patton nods, somehow uncomfortable near a Janus who is suddenly tame and attentive, not sarcastic or sharp-tongued as usual. It is so incredible, so unfamiliar, so not Janus at all, that for seconds it feels as if reality has received a crack, like a broken mirror that can only depict a distorted picture of reality.

And as if that wasn’t unusual enough, Janus begins to sing. It’s soft and gentle and Patton feels (against his will) very receptive and exceedingly charmed by so much beauty.

‘It’s exactly that,’ thinks Patton stunned. It’s the soft and gentle underneath the impregnable fortress that makes it so hard to resist him. If Janus were just cold and insensitive through and through, how much easier it would make this whole situation.

But he is not. He’s just pretending. Make-believing...

Janus lies to the whole world, just as Patton does, because what is their silence, what is their not naming their feelings other than that? A huge lie that piles higher and higher the longer it remains unspoken.

“You know, maybe things are going to be okay,” Patton says in a voice filled with hope that is bubbling hot and consuming inside him. “Maybe they aren’t... just a fantasy.”

Janus turns to him and a single painfully convoluted emotion glides across his face. “Yes,” he says, sounding softer than usual. “Maybe.”

The loveliest lies of all.

....

Oh my, this new video was so freaking cool! I loved everything about it 🍂🎃 the song, the setting, the clothes, the colours... and ofc this very adorable Janus and Patton content 💛💙 They were so soft, my heart! I just had to draw and write something about them 😊 And my apologies in advance about any mistakes in the text. English is not my mother tongue and I have no beta-reader atm.

[mewtwoandme]

For some reason it’s a ton easier for me to write gore/murder/all that fun dark stuff than actually draw it, so I just wanna say congrats to you for that, I can’t draw much more than scars without getting queasy lmao

Yeah, I assume it's a lot easier to stomach when you read it, describing what's happening with words compared to seeing graphic visuals

...unless you're someone with an extremely vivid imagination like me, then sometimes even reading doesn't save you from the detailed imagery your mind conjures up XD

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 3 — Christmas Tree Farm

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

During the festive season, having a Christmas tree was a must for you and Bucky. It symbolized the essence of Christmas and brought joy to your shared home. Without the majestic presence of a beautifully decorated tree standing tall and proud in the living room, your house would feel empty and cold.

Hence, it had become an eager tradition for you and Bucky to visit a Christmas tree farm and cut a perfect tree for your home.

As you arrived at the tree farm, a picturesque scene unfolded before your eyes. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen the night before, gracefully covering the ground and adorning the array of trees that stretched far and wide. The air was brisk, and the sky a crystal-clear clarity.

Amidst other families and couples, all on their quest for their ideal Christmas tree, you and Bucky equipped a hand saw and other necessities from the farm employees.

Hand in hand, you strolled along the rows of fir, spruce, and pine trees, considering their size, shape, and variety. The aroma of them a pleasant smell.

“So, what kind of tree are we aiming for this year, doll?” Bucky questioned as you traversed the paths.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you responded, examining the diverse options before you. “How about we go all out this year? The biggest one we can fit in our living room? With our new house, we do have space for it.”

“I like that idea,” Bucky murmured against your temple, sealing his agreement with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Upon reaching the outer edges of the farm, you found yourself torn between several larger trees. After careful consideration, you pointed to one with enthusiasm.

“I think this one,” you declared, running your gloved hand over the pine needles. “It’s a bit smaller than the others but much fuller and plumper.”

Bucky, deep in contemplation, tilted his head as he pictured the tree in your living room. Choosing the perfect Christmas tree was serious business for both of you.

“Yeah, this is the one,” Bucky nodded in agreement.

With Bucky taking charge of cutting the tree, you offered encouragement from the sidelines, occasionally lending a hand when needed.

“I think it’s about to come down, doll. Watch out!”

The tree fell with a soft thud; the snow beneath cushioned the impact. Together, you maneuvered it onto a blue tarp for easier transport back to the car.

After getting the tree wrapped in netting and completing the purchase, the staff assisted you in securing it on top of your car.

“I’m so happy, Bucky!” you exclaimed, embracing him tightly, bouncing lightly on your feet. “I can’t wait to decorate our tree, our house, our life.

“Hey, slow down,” he chuckled, hugging your waist and drawing you closer. “We’ve got the entire month of December for all those things and more, doll. But let’s start by taking this tree home and decorate our house.”

“Hmm, yes,” you murmured before sharing a kiss. “And then lots of Christmas goodies,” kiss, “Christmas movies,” kiss, “all the Christmas joy,” kiss, “and so much more.”

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[drdemonprince]

I'm curious to know your take on the whole fujoshi pisscourse because I'm semi new to it and no matter how much the internet says I should be appalled that some cis women flick their beans to gay stuff... as a queer guy I simply cannot bring myself to care. I have experienced cis straight women in queer spaces being rude or even sexually inappropriate, especially to performers, but I just don't see the relationship between that and the girls watching gay porn. And I've also seen people argue that it's bad because cis straight women who are artists will write/draw stuff about gay men that's inaccurate... but again I don't see this as nefarious as the twinks on tiktok want me to believe it is, like who cares.

Yeah, I'm with you 100%. What a person gets off to is their business and no type of porn belongs to one identity group.

My gay male bestie in high school got off exclusively to straight porn -- he found the women in straight porn easier to relate to than the types of big, masc guys that get depicted in most gay porn videos.

I watch porn of any fucking gender combination because what I care about is the hypnosis and power exchange, not the people involved.

I know this couple of two trans women that broke up when one walked in on the other watching gay male "sissy" porn -- she considered it an insult to her own identity and worried that it meant her trans femme partner wasn't "really" a woman or didn't see her as one. It led to the disastrous, messy termination of a relationship of many years, and the entire basis for the rift was nonsense.

I like a lot of detrans kink / forced detransition porn because of my own insecurities and worst fears. It strikes a chord in a hot way. Before I transitioned, I looked at a lot of gay male porn especially of the silly fanfictiony variety because it gave me something to project my longings onto.

Lots of trans mascs are "cis female fujoshis" like that. And yeah, some cis women are too! They may like the escape from conventional gender role baggage, or they may have some latent gender-fuckery of their own that the fiction is allowing them to explore, or maybe they just like guys a lot and so seeing two guys together is twice as hot to them. No amount of discourse is gonna keep straight men from watching lesbian porn. So let's leave the girls to whatever gets them off!

(incidentally, I know a lot of lesbian fujoshis too).

We shouldn't be policing what others' eroticize. A person's identity has no bearing on what they might find interesting to look at or fantasize about. What matters in terms of 'protecting' the queer community is having guidelines on behavior.

The problem with cishet women being predatory at the club isn't that they're cishet, it's that they're groping people, getting in people's faces, and being rude. Anyone of any identity can do that. The only way we can prevent bad behavior is by having rules and procedures in place for dealing with it in anyone. Not by restricting which identities are allowed in the door -- that will only ever play out in a transphobic way and a way that's hostile to the questioning and closeted, and I'll have no part in it.

And certainly none of us have any business butting into what sexual thoughts play between a person's ears. There are no thought crimes. There are no emotion crimes. There are no arousal crimes. There are only behaviors that can hurt others, and if someone's actions are respectful and harm no one, their identity and what they get off to is completely their business.

[muldermuse]

this is kind of a ramble so bear with me:

thinking about sending two sinners!gator into an absolute tailspin when he shows up to your house to see everything in boxes and your clothes packed up in a few suitcases by the door

he’s like ????? WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? and just casually saying “skipping town” and going to kiss him and he’s like ??????

i can only imagine the catharsis of telling him that “there’s nothing in fargo for me, most of the town hates me and the ones who don’t just wanna fuck me, you’re probably gonna marry glenda which will only make everyone hate me even more if they find out i’m the other woman. So I want to live somewhere else. I’m not happy here.” and he obv freaks out

and maybe you’re just going to stay at a friends house while your place gets painted, but maybe leaving was on your mind (it’s easier to sell a house with fresh paint👀), and maybe you wanted to see how serious he was about coming with you…but none of that is any of his business…

i’m usually not an angst girlie but i’m on my period and it’s probably a safer bet to be melodramatic and pick a fight with a fictional man than one i actually know 😭😭

ok this ask made me feral, i felt so ANGSTY writing it

thank u so much for sending it through angel <3

18+ only!! Angst below the cut!! Gator is mean and reader is maybe meaner. They're both terrible people. He calls her a whore, she calls him a lot of mean names. Mentions of smut but no actual smut.

Maybe, this is super far in the future for the two sinners fic or maybe it is not canon. who knows!!! not me!!!

You’re not sure how he found out. You’ve quietly handed your notice in at work and said goodbye to the few in this shitty town you care about. Jenson, Jax and Steve have been ghosted (but you know that they’d all come back with a simple ‘you up?’ text). You weren’t going to tell Gator you were leaving- he didn’t deserve a goodbye. You’d planned to go for 3 months as your place was going to get renovated in that time (you’d been saving up for years to make it more of a home). So, you thought that the months away would be an opportunity to become a new person. A better person. Someone who didn’t fuck pathetic Sheriffs. If anyone looked in; they’d think you were going forever. You’d decided that as soon as you left, you’d block Gator and when (or if) you returned, you’d avoid him like the plague.

The U-HAUL parked in your drive probably gave it away. Or when Glenda saw you filling up your truck and made a snide comment about what you were doing. Or maybe it was when you fucked him 2 days ago he made a passing comment about how empty your home looked. Since then, the entire hall area is covered in boxes filled with your possessions. You try not to let it depress you that your whole life has been packed up in a matter of days. You need a fresh start, you’re moving in with a friend a few towns over and you can be whoever you want to be for a few months. No one there has to know that you’ve been fucking a loser in a relationship for the best part of 2 years. You know it’s him as soon as he knocks on the door, no one knocks as loud as him and other people wait to be invited in. Gator lets himself in as you’re checking your backpack one final time.

“The fuck is all this shit?” He kicks a box that’s in his way and you’re thankful you don’t hear a shatter. “Saw the U-Haul and uh- Glenda saw you fillin’ up. Plannin’ a trip or somethin’?”. He tries to sound unbothered but you know him better than that.

You don’t look at him when you tell him, “Yeah, I’m leaving”. You tell yourself that it’s because you’re checking your backpack but really it’s because you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and you’re trying to compose yourself before you lose your shit.

“The fuck did you jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“Sorry, I’ll say it slower because you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I am leaving”. You draw out the last three words and stare at him. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you try to read the expression on his face. It’s a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness. A soft kiss his pressed to his cheek as you walk into the dining room to check your toiletries box. That’s the only pleasantry you’ll exchange with him today- or maybe ever again.

His boots stomp behind you as he follows you in. “Well, where are you goin’?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m there, Gator. Now you can fuck off back to Glenda and play fuckin’ happy families for the rest of your life”.

“Well- why are you leavin’? You’ve never mentioned this before”. His voice breaks as he speaks, either a sign he’s getting choked up or he’s getting really angry.

You can feel the anger rattling in your chest and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears becomes overwhelming. “Why am I going? Gator, everyone in this town fuckin’ hates me or thinks that I’m a total whore because of your fuckin’ bitch of a girlfriend. Who- by the way, you’re goin’ to marry because you’re too fuckin’ chickenshit to upset your crazy daddy…” You slam your hands on the table and take a quick breath, “Gator- I fuckin’ hate it here, I’m miserable and I can’t do it any longer- it’s killin’ me”.

He’s stood opposite you and fuck, does he look mad. He doesn’t move for a minute but then shoves your boxes off the table and kicks them when they hit the floor. After a few seconds, he kicks them again with more force and slams his hands on the table.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ mature Gator, breaking my shit beca-“

“What about this? What about us?” His voice is more muted than you’ve ever heard it. His breath is shuddering gasps. You’re unsure why it enrages you.

You laugh cruelly, “What us? What the fuck are you talking about? Gator, you have a fuckin’ girlfriend who you’re going to marry.”

“Yeah but when has that stopped you- huh? You can’t put this all on me. You’re jus’ as bad as me.”

He moves to stand in front of you. The energy in the room is charged, usually, when it feels like this between the pair of you, it would end in some angry sex where you’re both trying to dominate the other person but you both know that isn’t going to happen today. 

“You’re movin’ away to be a fuckin’ whore somewhere else... or because you’re jealous of Glenda. She gets all of me and you jus’ get the fuckin’ scraps”. His smile is wicked and his eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You take a step closer to him, “I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse than havin’ all of you. You’re a pathetic fuckin’ daddy’s boy who’s never won anythin’ in his life”. You get close enough to whisper in his ear, “you’re a fuckin’ loser, Gator.”

You hate how much you want to fuck him in this moment and by the red bloom that’s creeping up his neck; you know he feels the same.

He leaves your home silently. He kicks another box on his way out and you finally hear a shatter. His tyres spin as his car races off your front lawn. 

You should block his number and know that that is the end of this awful affair. 

But you both know that it isn’t.

[tooweirdforyou]

Hi, can you write sum abt tokyo rev (preferably draken and mikey)x y/n in which they go on a midnight walk? talkin abt stuff and yeah whatev ud like~

ilove your drawings and thank you for writing this if you answer it or do it or yeah^^

Midnight Talks » Draken + Mikey x Reader

A/N : it might be a bit angsty but I thought it was cute. apologies that it’s short! <3 it’s also a little rushed so please forgive me. :))

-

The night was still long.

After riding your bikes down to the coast of the city, where the dock laid, the three of you, you, Mikey and Draken, were now taking a nice, calming stroll along the water, the moonlight casting down on you as you spoke of random nonsense.

You share laughs, jokes and old memories that have you smiling for a lifetime.

Until you remember what they do, and the injuries you had to clean for them today.

The joy was dying down and you all just walked in silence, enjoying the peace and each other’s company.

Mikey was swinging your arm while Draken, who had put his jacket over you, secured his grip on you and held it steady.

“… You know, you don’t have to be so reckless..”

You were a little afraid to say anything but you spoke before you could stop yourself.

“Huh?” Both blondes blink and glance at you as you kept your face ahead but vision lowered.

“.. I mean.. just be more careful.. you know? I don’t want to keep seeing you come back to me covered in bruises and cuts, all bloody and shit.”

The air suddenly grew tense as no one said anything else, until Mikey chuckles. “What are you talking about, [Nickname]?”

Draken doesn’t say anything but you had a feeling that he knew what you meant. And he had the idea that this is what you wanted to say all along.

After all, you suggested the idea of the walk in the first place.

“..I’m just saying, maybe take it easier next time? You guys just straight into fights without a second thought.”

Walking in between the two blondes, you sigh gently as you express your thoughts on their daily gang fights, your worry seen over your expression.

Mikey looks towards the water, standing on your right with his left hand intertwined with yours.

Draken stares ahead, standing on your left right his right arm around and locked with yours.

“I can take them down easily.” Mikey simply says and you frown at his ignorance. “What if one day you pick a fight with someone stronger than you? You’ll get hurt.” You point out and Mikey merely grins.

“I have Ken-chin!” He beams, looking over at the tall one who sighs. “[Name] has a point, I won’t always be there, Mikey.”

Mikey pouts as he looks into the distance this time. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’ll always be by my side, right?”

You abruptly stop, causing both males to release their hold on you and look back as you stare straight at Mikey.

“Mikey.”

The tone of your voice makes the Toman leader momentarily stop, his demeanor changing as he looks back at you.

“Please.. stay safe for me. Okay?” Your eyes turn to Draken, hints of sadness glinting in them. “Same for you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to either of you. I care about you both so much..”

You turn to the water, taking a deep breath to prevent your voice from breaking at the thought of the two blondes with serious injuries or worse possible conditions.

“Promise me you’ll stay safe for me, and stay by me forever.”

The boys hadn’t said a word, staring at the moonlight shining it’s reflection in the water before Draken places a hand on your head.

“Promise, [Name]. We’ll be careful.”

Mikey turns to you and tightens his grip on your hand, smiling softly at you.

“I promise you, [Nickname]. I won’t ever leave your side.”

-

okay. this is very late. I know. very short. not my best work.