#sometimes things are just small and alone

[00valentina-writes00]

Could you do Ambessa and Sevika with a reader who's really introverted? Thank youu🫂❤️

♡♥︎ 𝕊𝔼𝕍𝕀𝕂𝔸 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔸𝕄𝔹𝔼𝕊𝕊𝔸 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥 ♥︎♡

♡𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕜𝕒♡

♥︎ Sevika respects your need for space. She’ll give you the quiet moments you crave, but she also won’t hesitate to check in, making sure you’re okay. She’s the type to simply sit beside you in silence, just feeling your presence without pushing for interaction.

♥︎ She’s not much for small talk, so she’s perfectly content with your more reserved conversations. She likes the deeper, meaningful moments, especially when you share something you’ve been thinking about in the comfort of silence.

♥︎ Sevika notices the subtle signs that you need time alone. She won’t ask questions—she’ll just leave you to your space without making you feel guilty about it. She knows when to give you space without making it an issue.

♥︎ When she does interact with you, it’s always in a way that feels comforting rather than overwhelming. Her low, steady voice helps keep your anxiety at bay, and she always speaks in a calm, no-nonsense tone.

♥︎ She understands when you don’t want to go out, and she’ll stay in with you. Whether that means watching something low-key or simply spending time in each other’s company without the need for words, Sevika gets it.

♥︎ Despite her tough exterior, she’ll sometimes offer small, thoughtful gestures. Like making sure you have a hot drink or making your favorite meal, even if you never asked for it.

♥︎ She won’t push you to be more social. If you don’t want to deal with people, she’s more than happy to take care of things without dragging you into them. She values your peace and understands your boundaries.

♥︎ Sevika’s got a weirdly soft side when it comes to you. She’s the type to gently brush her fingers through your hair or rub your back when you’re feeling overwhelmed, always keeping it quiet and steady.

♥︎ She doesn’t make a big deal out of it when you’re not up for physical affection, but she makes sure you know she’s still there with a hand on your shoulder or a quiet touch when you need it.

♥︎ At times, she’ll give you a look, almost like she’s checking if you’re okay. She’s so observant, catching even the smallest shift in your mood. Sometimes, all it takes is a nod from you, and she’ll know how to adjust without saying a word.

♥︎ She’s a master at knowing when to be quiet and when to speak. If you’re deep in thought or in your head, she won’t try to force conversation—she lets you come to her when you’re ready

♥︎ Sometimes, when you’re feeling anxious, Sevika won’t ask what’s wrong. Instead, she’ll just do something familiar—like sitting with you, offering a cigarette, or doing something that feels grounding for both of you.

♥︎ She’ll never judge you for being quiet or withdrawn. There’s no pressure to be anything other than yourself with her, and she’s one of the few people who sees the value in your silence.

♥︎ Despite her commanding presence, Sevika has a weird way of knowing exactly how to make you feel safe when you’re overwhelmed. It’s in the way she stands, the way she quietly observes, always creating space for you to be yourself without fear of judgment.

♥︎ She doesn’t mind if you’re the type to retreat into books, music, or your own thoughts. She’ll sit next to you, just existing with you, content that you’re sharing that space in your own way.

♥︎ Sevika understands your need for independence. She doesn’t try to fix everything. Instead, she lets you deal with things at your own pace, offering support only when you ask for it.

♥︎ When she sees you come out of your shell—even a little—she’s oddly proud of you. There’s a soft edge to her smirk when she catches you laughing or talking with someone. She’ll never outright compliment you on it, but you can tell she’s impressed.

♥︎ She’s the type of girlfriend who will insist you take breaks and step away from stress, but she’ll also respect it if you want to handle things on your own. It’s all about balance for her.

♥︎ When you get overwhelmed in a crowd, Sevika will always find a way to get you out of there. Whether it’s making an excuse to leave early or simply pulling you to the side for a quick exit, she’s got you.

♥︎ She knows you might prefer just one-on-one time, so she’ll do what she can to make sure you’re never pressured into group settings that make you uncomfortable.

♥︎ Sevika’s loyalty runs deep. When you’re down, she’ll stay by your side, a steady presence in the background, quietly supportive, offering you the space you need while also being there when you want her.

♥︎ Finally, she’s the kind of partner who’s happy to let you be exactly who you are—quiet, introverted, and uniquely you. She appreciates your calm, your quiet strength, and the way you help her see the world from a different perspective.

♡𝔸𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒♡

♥︎ While Ambessa is commanding and often larger-than-life in her presence, she knows how to make you feel safe in your introversion. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, she’ll create a space where it’s just the two of you, letting you retreat into the comfort of silence.

♥︎ When you’re too tired to talk, Ambessa will gently remind you that you don’t need to say anything—your presence alone is enough for her. She understands that sometimes, silence speaks volumes.

♥︎ If you’re ever feeling drained after a long day, Ambessa will offer you her company without demanding anything from you. She might pour you a drink, sit beside you, and simply exist in your space without pressuring you to be anything other than yourself.

♥︎ She’ll occasionally tease you, but it’s always lighthearted and with affection. She enjoys seeing the subtle shifts in your expression when you try to hide your smile or laughter at her dry wit.

♥︎ Ambessa knows the value of personal time, and she’s perfectly content with letting you retreat into your own thoughts. She’ll never take it personally if you need space; she understands that your quiet moments are just as important as your shared moments.

♥︎ When you’re feeling particularly introverted, she’ll find ways to give you space while still being close. She might work nearby, allowing you to feel her presence without being forced to interact if you’re not up for it.

♥︎ Ambessa will sometimes look at you in a way that says everything—those deep, knowing glances that speak volumes without words. She’s incredibly perceptive and can sense when you’re feeling overwhelmed without you saying a thing.

♥︎ If you need a break from the chaos around you, Ambessa will ensure that you can escape to a quieter place. Whether it’s her private office or just a secluded corner, she’ll make sure there’s peace for you when you need it.

♥︎ When she knows you’re feeling anxious or stressed, Ambessa will offer her hand or give you a touch of reassurance. She’s not the type to force conversation, but her touch is often all you need to feel grounded again.

♥︎ Despite her intimidating persona, she’ll soften her voice when she speaks to you, knowing that you’re more comfortable when things aren’t too loud or intense. Her words come with purpose, but also a gentleness that helps ease your mind.

♥︎ Ambessa doesn’t mind when you’re introverted around others. She’s proud of your calm, quiet strength, and she’ll often give you a knowing look, silently acknowledging that you’re doing just fine without saying a word.

♥︎ She enjoys watching you in your element when you’re doing something you love, whether it’s reading, sketching, or simply taking a walk alone. Her gaze is full of quiet admiration as she watches you retreat into your thoughts, appreciating the depth of who you are.

♥︎ When you’re not feeling like talking, Ambessa will give you small affirmations to remind you that you’re valued. It might be a compliment, a small smile, or simply a soft “I’m proud of you” when you least expect it.

♥︎ Ambessa knows how to read your body language, and she can tell when you’re beginning to feel drained. When that happens, she’ll shift gears and create a more private, calming environment for you without making it awkward

♥︎ If you’re having trouble navigating a social event or gathering, Ambessa will be your rock. She’ll make sure you don’t feel pressured to perform socially, and she’ll give you an out if you need one.

♥︎ When you do choose to open up, Ambessa listens with unwavering attention. She never interrupts, never judges, and always values the words you do share. Her silence in those moments is the most supportive kind of presence.

♥︎ Ambessa is fiercely protective of your peace. If anyone or anything threatens to disturb your calm, she’s quick to put it in its place. She’ll handle it quietly, often with a few choice words, making sure your introverted nature isn’t pushed out of balance.

♥︎ She’ll often surprise you with small gifts or gestures that show she’s thinking of you. A book she thinks you’d love, a quiet walk around the city, or even a cup of tea with your favorite flavor—it’s her way of showing she cares without overwhelming you.

♥︎ When you need to recharge, Ambessa will make sure to give you the time you need. She won’t pressure you to interact with her or others, knowing that sometimes the best way to show affection is by letting you be yourself.

♥︎ She’s not the type to need constant reassurance, but she’ll make sure you feel seen. When you’re with her, it’s like nothing else matters; it’s just the two of you, with her providing the kind of quiet strength that balances out your own.

[batboysanonymous]

Bird in a Cage

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Grief turned Y/N into a ghost of herself, drowning in the unbearable silence of a bond that should have shattered—unaware that her mate still breathed, just beyond her reach.

Based on the song: BLUE by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

Mm, mm, mm I try to live in black and white, but I'm so blue I'd like to mean it when I say I'm over you But that's still not true (blue) And I'm still so blue, oh

The City of Starlight was quieter without him.

The kind of silence that did not soothe but suffocated. Velaris had always been a place of light, a sanctuary carved from the darkness, but now, it was a tomb.

Y/N barely recognized herself in the mirror anymore. Where her eyes had once shimmered with life, they were dull now, hollowed by grief. Her skin had paled, lips always cracked from the cold air she no longer cared to shield herself from. Even the bond—her soul’s tether to Azriel—was silent.

It should have broken the moment he died. Should have shattered inside her like glass.

But it hadn’t.

And she hated that it hadn’t.

A cruel, empty thing.

She thought maybe she had imagined it sometimes—the way her chest ached like something tethered her still. But that was just grief, wasn’t it? The way her mind refused to let him go, the way her soul still searched for him, as if refusing to accept the truth.

Her mate. Her husband. Her best friend. Gone.

She curled further into the window seat, a blanket draped over her shoulders, though it did nothing to warm her. Beyond the glass, Velaris glittered under the night sky, so full of life, of movement.

It was unbearable.

“Y/N.”

Rhysand’s voice was gentle, but she did not turn to look at him.

She knew how he saw her. Knew what he was thinking.

That she was slipping away. That she had already slipped too far.

“I brought you dinner.”

She swallowed, staring at the plate that appeared on the small table beside her.

It was her favorite meal. And she had no appetite.

She hadn’t for weeks.

“Eat,” Rhys pressed, lowering himself onto the armchair across from her.

She didn’t.

He sighed.

I thought we were the same (I thought we were the same) Birds of a feather (birds of a feather), now I'm ashamed

“Feyre is worried about you,” he said carefully. “We all are.”

She clenched her jaw.

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

A beat of silence.

Then, quietly—“The bond hasn’t broken.”

She stiffened.

Her hands curled into the fabric of the blanket, her nails biting into her palm.

“I don’t know why,” she admitted after a long moment, voice hoarse. “I should have—felt it. When he—”

She couldn’t say it.

Rhys was silent.

She turned, meeting his violet eyes for the first time in days. There was something there—something off.

Something withholding.

“… What?” she rasped.

Rhysand shook his head. “Nothing.”

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas A bird in a cage, thought you were made for me

She wasn’t sure why, but her stomach twisted.

But she let it go.

She had no more energy to fight.

The dream came again that night.

Azriel, standing just beyond the shadows, his hazel eyes locked onto hers.

He never spoke.

Never moved.

Just watched.

And she—she always ran toward him. Always reached for him.

But the moment her fingers brushed his, he would disappear.

Vanishing into smoke.

She woke with a start, chest heaving. The bond—it was there. She could feel it, feel him, but it was distant, muted—like something was blocking it.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

No.

No, she was imagining it.

This was what grief did.

It twisted things, made you believe in impossibilities.

Azriel was dead.

The bond hadn’t broken, and she would never know why.

You were born bluer than a butterfly Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen Colder than your father's eyes He never learned to sympathize with anyone

Rhys was tense when she found him the next morning.

Cassian and Feyre had just left, leaving the two of them alone in the townhouse.

“You’re hiding something.”

It wasn’t a question.

Rhys froze. “Y/N—”

“You’re hiding something.” Her voice wavered, her hands trembling as she stepped toward him. “I—why do I still feel the bond?”

His throat bobbed. “Y/N, I—”

Tell me he’s dead, she wanted to beg.

Tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me I’m losing my mind.

But her brother only stared at her, guilt heavy in his gaze.

Something in her splintered.

Her breath came shallow, sharp.

“… No.”

Rhys’ lips parted, his expression softening. “It’s not what you think—”

“He’s alive?” Her voice broke on the last word.

The walls closed in.

Azriel—her mate, her heart—was alive.

And Rhys had kept it from her.

“I had to,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “Y/N, I had to—”

But she was already moving, already running, because she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Couldn’t understand.

Why?

Why had he lied?

Why had he let her suffer, let her mourn?

Why had he let her break?

Her body was shaking, but she barely registered it.

Azriel was alive.

She had spent weeks drowning in grief, but he was alive.

And Rhys—her brother, the one person she had always trusted—had let her believe otherwise.

I don't blame you But I can't change you Don't hate you But we can't save you

A sob tore from her throat, her knees hitting the floor of the garden.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the pull of the bond—really feeling it for the first time.

It was there. It had always been there.

Distant. Shielded.

Hidden from her.

Her mate.

Her mate was alive.

And she had been drowning in the lie that he wasn’t.

She gasped, head tipping back toward the sky, her entire body trembling with rage, with grief, with hope.

Because she had thought she would never feel him again.

But he was alive.

And she would bring him home.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Have you done Hanma relationship hcs before? If you have, feel free to ignore this!

Sure, here are some being in a relationship with Hanma ones!

He's very confident about what you like, he seems to have no problem at all picking things out for you and bringing them too you, you're not sure how he does it.

Wakes you up with kisses often

Doesn't get genuine compliments that often so you can catch him off guard when he does get them. Normally laughs them off after

He loves to give you compliments though, especially if they fluster you, he thinks it's very amusing and will purposely try to.

Knows when you're lying or keeping things from him (it's very hard when you want to surprise him) he's very observant of you. 

Falls asleep on you a lot (conveniently trapping you under him often). You're sure he does this on purpose.

He likes perfumes a lot, not on himself particularly but he appreciates and notices when you wear it.

You're pretty much responsible for any wounds he get's, he's not bothered by them and won't bandage them but he'll let you do it if you want.

Takes a lot of pictures of you but then doesn't show them to you, normally you have to bargain with him if you want to see them (price is usually a kiss).

Sings very loudly, and he has no problem singing for you (going out for your birthday means he'll sing happy birthday loudly in public)

Also does a lot of pda in public, he really doesn't care who's watching 

Moves around a bit in his sleep, when sharing a bed with him you will sometimes get kicked in the middle of the night or suddenly pulled towards him.

Despite the kind of wild wedding all of his friend's imagine him wanting, he actually just wants something small and intimate when he get's married. 

Will steal little bits of food from your plate, pays you back with kisses and cheeky grins. 

He  started using pet names ironically/ as a joke at first but then actually realises he likes it.

Likes soft things, including your hair, will sometimes just stroke it when relaxing with you.

It's very hard for you to leave the house because Hanma always wants a goodbye kiss. 

Will fake being hurt by you in a clear overly the top way if you say anything even slightly bad about him, like if you ask him to slow down because he's walking too quickly, it's just his way of playing though and he will slow down. 

Is also very unpredictable, picks you up and carries you at the most random times.

Promises to drive safely when you ride with him (he has no such promises when he's riding alone though)

Will make someones life hell if they mess with you

There's a lot of suggestive language and nsfw talk in your relationship, Hanma loves to see your reaction to it, especially if he whispers it in your ear.

Grins whenever you call him your boyfriend 

Jokes a lot about getting you some tattoos to match his

Insists on bathing with you a lot, seems to enjoy washing your hair, also likes it when you wash his for him.

And finally, one time he tried to make you a birthday cake but messed it up, so then he called Kisaki for help but Kisaki had no idea either. Two burnt cakes later and they eventually settle for a store bought cake. It's the thought that counts?????

[side-by-side-sideblog]

As a butch individual I will not like you, fuck you, talk to you, make friends with you, or entertain you if you hate men, neither will my partner and other butches I know. It is not progressive, man hating isn't queer culture, because men are queer culture. Men are why I am masc, they accepted my masculinity first, lesbians were butch and masculine phobic to me for 8 years till I figured my shit out. I know that isn't the norm, but it isn't rare either.

These people put me back in the closet over and over. They don't support gender or sex being a spectrum, if they do they're showing no signs of it. They think saying men dni will stop guys who harass people but they don't stop because they don't care about consent and a dni doesn't change that. There are plenty of girl bloggers who also don't respect consent and send people gore and threats over minor disagreements. We don't go after them hardly at all in comparison considering we have people who've been doing that since 2016 and earlier that people still reblog and uplift because they're women. Men doing that on here don't get that treatment, because it's rightfully wrong. Most other sites white non queer men do getaway with that more while women don't, the Tumblr user base reversing that isn't progressive, because cis white women here get more slack then anyone else because trans fems, trans mascs, intersex people, and non white people get the "evil" tag over small shit, let alone actual bad things.

We teach in current society that men are incapable of consent, as if it's in their nature. This isn't true, but it sure does create a lot of guys who lack boundaries. That doesn’t mean Man = Bad it means society saying Man = Wild Beast is bad. A man is just whoever identifies as one, and identifying as a man has nothing to do with lack of consent, or toxic masculinity. I sometimes wonder if I identify as butch in a man way, idk, and I don't care, I am who I am, and women are who I spend time with in a queer way. My closeness to masculinity isn't traitor behavior. Femininity isn't Divinity, I do not worship women. Masculinity isn't an Ignominity, I do not criminalize men. Masculinity is also not Divinity, and Femininity isn't an Ignominity. Both can be fallible at times when the conditions are right, but they are neutral markers.

To make man = good we do that by just changing ourselves and our ideas of masculinity being bad, then we teach it to everyone else, including kids, friends, partners, and parents. When people stop the "boys will be boys" then more men will be taught consent.

I have an actual irrational hatred for a character that makes me burst into anger and hour long rants (not joking) because I see him as the epitome of toxic masculinity. Seeing him in a profile picture can ruin my day, but I do not put him in a dni list because I am not going to blame fans of him for my distaste in how the media itself supports his bad actions as good. Just like if I get harassed by men who lack consent, I will not blame all men and put men dni.

Saying "I block ＿" is better anyway.

Plus, how can you know someone's a woman? Not everyone has pronouns listed, gender listed, or just a big neon sign saying "I'm a woman." you will have no idea if people are respecting your frankly outrageous ask of who can follow or reblog your posts.

Men on this site who respect women and reblog posts do exist, and there are a lot of them. Also trans eggs who are on this site are not going to figure themselves out through media like mlp, she-ra, and whatever you post by saying men dni. My trans sister cracked her egg six months ago, so for her blog she would have steered clear of men dni disclaimers and probably blocked them out of respect. Now how does she undo that, go through her entire block list? That would be crazy work for people who wouldn't have respected her pre transition (which they didn't, not even other trans girls or queer gurls in highschool did, only now would they support her. That's what man hating does to people.)

There is no simple solution to keeping people away, oh wait... It's called blocking.

tldr; Having a dni for an entire demographic of people just for the flaws of a few inside doesn't work. It never will. People who don't care about consent will breach it to hurt you.

if you have "cishet men dni" in your bio i, a trans man, will not touch you with a 10 foot pole. i should not be forced to out myself as a trans man just to interact with you. on top of that, cishet men are not inherently evil. stop trying to reinvent bioessentialism with your "girl good, boy bad!" mentality.

[multiheadcanons]

BABY’S WORST RESPAWN

scout: normally scout will just wake up in the infirmary and carry on about his day. but there was one time, he had a really weird dream. initially he thought maybe he just got knocked out; he was tossed into the wall head first by the enemy heavy and his vision went dark. his eyes opened to darkness still, and a door. he knew instinctively that door led to the respawn room. but he couldn’t move towards it. a different figure, a similar figure, walked towards the door, and he couldn’t open his mouth to scream as he watched himself enter the respawn room, leaving him there. only as the sound began to leave his mouth did he open his eyes into the infirmary. he wasn’t sure if he actually died or not. he’s still not sure.

soldier: he also normally will just open his eyes and be back in the respawn room. but one time, it was different. he saw this door, and he saw something moving towards it. and it was so hard to move, he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to yell out, but he forced himself to move. he just couldn’t beat that figure moving in the dark; but he saw that the figure looked oddly familiar, as the thing threw the doors open. and his vision was washed in light, before refocusing in the infirmary.

pyro: it’s always a scary walk for them. a painful crawl of a walk down a dark hallway, and they can never see anything but a set of doors. and they know those doors lead to the infirmary. but they’re unarmed, and it’s so dark. they’ll even take off their mask to see if they can get any more vision. the worst is when they knew they were walking and the doors didn’t get any closer. even sprinting, they couldn’t get any closer to the doors. they just wish they had a lighter, or a set of matches…. anything. anything. anything but this darkness.

demo: normally it’s a short wait for demo. he sits in the dark and sometime between the dark and his blinks comes a light and he’s back in the fight, full, whole, and ready to go. but there was a time he swore days went by. he just sat in the dark for hours. because he knows what a couple of minutes feels like in the dark. this wasn’t minutes. this was hours of sitting in the dark. it was only when he got a thought to get up and see what���s going on that he had returned to the respawn room, and he couldn’t stop to think about what just happened. that experience is one he will never forget. it has made him more wary of dying. he knows he pushes his lifestyle. he doesn’t know if it’s worth that wait again to come back to it.

heavy: it’s a slow walk. it’s a walk he’s never scared of. he’s made worse walks. but he’s always alone in there. there was one time he wasn’t. a voice— warped and warbled past the point of recognition cried for him. said they couldn’t make the walk alone. something told him not to, but he offered a hand regardless. and it felt comforting, to know there was someone else here other than himself. it wasn’t until they had approached the doors together, in the dim light of the small window of the infirmary door, he looked behind him to see the hand he held was stretched inhumanly far. far into the darkness. further than he could see. he fought the bile rising in his throat, and gingerly released his grip, watching it slingshot back into the darkness. he just needed to get out of here before whatever that thing was decided to actually follow him this time.

engineer: engie has attempted to keep time in his little pocket dimension in the respawn machine via scratches in the floor, a watch he removed from his body and tossed in front of him; only to come back and feel for these things and they’re gone. there’s nothing for him to do but sit and wait. and that is the worst part to him. the sitting and waiting. and hoping his body is the one that gets picked to go through the doors next. it’s not that he’s afraid of the dark or anything; it’s the dripping. he swears he hears this dripping. it wasn’t there before. but everytime he comes back the dripping sounds stronger. like wherever the leak is is quickly giving way to the fluid behind it. he doesn’t want to be in here when it breaks.

medic: it is almost always a brisk walk in a pitch black labyrinth. but he knows where to go. the faith placed in himself as his boots click mutedly on the ground has never faltered him. even when he hears things crawling around behind him. even past the echoes of screams. sometimes his own. sometimes others. he keeps his eyes forward and walks. there was one time though. he had run into himself. he didn’t think he had made a wrong turn. he even saw the doors past this clone. it threw him off. as he slowly reached out, just to see if his counterpart was okay, it was a low, pained groan that came from the body as the head rolled back, back, back, until eyeless sockets met filled ones. “don’t. don’t come back. don’t come back here if you can help it.” he immediately retracted his hand and hurried on his way into the doors.

sniper: snipes has actually never had a negative experience with the respawn machine. he blinks, he’s back. sometimes he can see his parents. his good ones, not the assholes. but never long enough to even register what he’s looking at. just flashes. a familiar smile. soft eyes. echoes of “attaboy!” “good try, mick!” “almost had it!” “give it another go, mick!”. the brilliant blue skies of home. the tree in the yard. but he’s back in the infirmary, ready to go. it was a little disconcerting the first few times. but he’s grown to really appreciate it. it’s nice to feel support from them, even if they’re across the globe. it’s nice to feel home sometimes.

spy: contrary to sniper, spy has almost never had a good experience with the respawn machine. it takes too long, he always feels himself dying well after he’s dead, he knows nobody else maintains consciousness in their blown up bodies, and he’s had to learn to stop himself from screaming in agony. he couldn’t the first dozen or so times. and judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, they were not experiencing death the way he was through this machine. the burns. the bombs. the gunshots. he can’t shake them. they follow him until he’s lost to shock; and only then does he return to the infirmary, whole once more. it is breaking him. he takes care not to die on the field. but the enemy is getting better. and he’s not.

[mrsshabana]

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 ♡ 𝐄𝐦𝐨!𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♡

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Emo!Gyutaro x female!reader, modern au, college au, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. Sorry I'm posting this so late, I had almost no time to write it so it's very rushed. But I wanted to give everyone something to read today even though it's short. Happy Valentine's Day!

God, did Gyutaro hate Valentine's Day.

Everything about it disgusted him. From the bright colors and sweet smells to the mushy feelings and love confessions. Thinking about the horrid day made him gag.

It didn't make sense to him. Half of these people who celebrate Valentine's Day together will be broken up before the year ends. So what's the point? Haven't they learned yet that love is a facade that only ends in a broken heart?

Maybe that's the emo in him speaking, but can you blame the boy for feeling that way?

His heart has never beat for another. To be honest, most people would be convinced that his heart doesn't beat at all. From his never-ending brooding attitude and his overtly emo attire.

Love isn't something he often thinks about. But deep down he does fantasize about having someone to love, especially around this time of year. That's why you'll rarely see him leave his dorm during February, except for attending mandatory classes of course.

Seeing all of these couples holding hands and being all lovey-dovey, a part of him yearns for it. Sure they are probably inevitably destined to end in heartbreak. But sometimes he wonders if experiencing love is worth the heartache. Maybe that's why people always come back each year to celebrate this dreaded holiday.

By now he's pretty convinced that love wasn't meant for him so he does whatever he can to drown everything out. Because there's no way in hell a girl would ever take interest in him, so it's better to just avoid them all.

When Valentine's Day finally comes Gyutaro begrudgingly leaves his dorm. But not before he puts on the heaviest, most anti-normal person emo garb that he has. Of course, he has his usual graphic tee, skinny jeans, and black jacket with the sleeves rolled up. But today he makes sure to put the black eyeliner on heavy and wear spiked bands around his wrists. The combat boots and metal chain on his hip top the look off.

He hopes this will be enough to deter anyone from speaking to him today. He only has two classes so as long as he can get through that then he'll be fine. Steering clear of any painfully romantic couples canoodling all throughout campus.

The day goes by longer than it should, but eventually, he gets through his classes.

Though he can't shake this heavy feeling inside of his chest. He tries to ignore it but as he saw more and more reminders of what today symbolizes the feeling only got stronger and stronger.

"Why am I feeling this way...?" he mumbles to himself as he clutches his chest. Inexplicably his eyes begin to water as the feeling worsens.

Panicked and annoyed, Gyutaro quickly leaves the building and walks towards one of his favorite spots near campus, a small secluded creek surrounded by tall trees that make him feel like he's in another world. He has to trudge through some shrubs to get there, but he always goes here when he wants to be alone.

Sitting down on a fallen log and lighting a cigarette, Gyutaro sighs.

He doesn't want to admit it, but he does feel incredibly lonely. Sometimes he internally curses everyone who has things that he doesn't, especially when it comes to having a loving relationship. He knows he isn't the easiest guy to get along with so the relationship would probably go south anyways. But that doesn't stop him from yearning for it. All he wants is to be loved. Is that really so much to ask?

He closes his eyes and takes a drag of his cigarette, trying to shift his thoughts to anything else.

But he's quickly snapped out of it when he hears a twig snap behind him.

"Shit," he mutters and puts out his cigarette. Did someone follow him? Maybe it's just an animal...

"Hello?" he shouts, hoping that it is indeed just an animal and not a couple that wanted to sneak away together.

"Erm... hi, um... sorry to bother you," you say with a shaky voice as you emerge from the trees.

"Y/N?" his eyes widen as he recognizes you as one of the girls in his art class. Honestly, he only remembered your name because he thought you were really cute. Not to mention sweet too. You haven't talked to him much, but the few times you did you were always abnormally kind to him. Something he wasn't used to from people.

"Yeah, sorry I um," you stutter not sure what to say as you realize how weird it would be to tell him that you followed him out here.

"What're you doin' here?" he raises a brow.

"I-I wanted to give you this!" you shout, your nerves getting the best of you as you force yourself to just spit it out already, "Happy Valentine's Day!" You swiftly hold out a velvet heart-shaped box.

"What..." he whispers in disbelief, "This for me?"

"Yes! I hope you like it," your entire face is red as you awkwardly hold the item, hoping he'll just take it already.

He narrows his eyes as if he doesn't believe you, but he takes the box anyway. Flipping it over, inspecting every detail, seeing his black painted nails shine as he moves his hand around the box. God do you love how he paints his nails.

"What is it?" he asks skeptically.

"It's a bomb," you respond.

His eyes widen as he stares back at you like you're a madwoman.

"Gyutaro, I'm joking!" you chuckle, lightening the mood, "Just open it already!"

He scoffs, holding back a laugh as he opens the velvet box. Inside are messily decorated chocolates in heart shapes.

"They taste better than they look, I promise..." you say sheepishly, hoping he won't hate them.

"Did you... actually make these?"

"Mm hm," you nod, "I tried to at least..."

He genuinely can't believe it. He doesn't even care that half of the chocolates look like turds, he's just touched that someone went out of their way to make something for them. Hell, he would have been happy if you just bought a box of chocolates from Walmart. But this? He never expected someone to do this for him.

"Are you trying to fuck with me?" he says in disbelief, his mind telling him that there's no way this isn't a joke or a cruel prank.

"W-Well um... maybe after a few dates..."

"... what?" his cheeks go red, "N-No! That wasn't what I meant- fuck um... never mind," he stutters, flustered by the thought that a pretty girl like you actually is considering having sex with him.

"Th-thank you," he spits out, "I love it." An awkward smile pulls on his lips, revealing his crooked teeth.

But it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

You've been crushing on him so hard ever since you met him this semester. He hasn't talked to you very much, but he doesn't seem unpleasant. Just quiet.

But when you happened to see him talking to his friends one day after class, you witnessed him smile for the very first time. And it was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You wished that one day you could make the cute emo boy smile like that.

And you finally did. Even if he ends up rejecting you, you don't care. You made him smile and that was what you were really aiming for. A rare reaction you barely see cross his face.

But honestly, Gyutaro doesn't know how to react. He's awkward and shy and totally not used to interacting with people like this. Let alone cute girls.

In an attempt to show his desire to get closer to you, Gyutaro scoots over and pats the spot beside him, "Wanna join me?"

"S-Sure!" You say eagerly as you take a seat beside him.

Gyutaro leans back, staring up at the sky as he tries to process everything that's happening right now. But there's one question he can't get off his mind, "What made you wanna give this to me?"

"I think you're really cool..." you shyly admit as you fiddle with your fingers, not brave enough to look at him as you confess your feelings, "I like your style and I always wanted to get to know you better. But I never knew how."

He's internally kicking himself for making himself appear so unapproachable. Sure it kept the normies away like he wanted but it also kept cool people like you away that genuinely wanted to get to know him.

"Aw man... thanks. I think you're pretty cool too," he smiles, putting his hand on top of yours, "Maybe we can hang out sometime outside of class... I-If you want to."

"Of course! I'd love to," you beam excitedly, not only because he wants to hang out with you but also because he's touching you right now, "Y'know I um... I'm not doing anything tonight."

"Me neither," he blushes and turns to you, "Wanna come over? I have a sick record collection we could listen to."

"I'd love that, Gyutaro," you say, squeezing his hand. Just happy that you get to see the emo boy smile. But this won't be the last time, you'll be seeing that crooked smile of his a lot more after today.

[supernova2205]

Hearts and Ammo

Medic x 141

Summary: After a painful breakup, Specter struggles with her emotions as her team the 141 take it upon themselves to bring her comfort. Through a series of cheesy pick-up lines and thoughtful gestures, they remind her that love and laughter can heal even the deepest wounds. As Valentine’s Day approaches they all remind her that family is the cure to a broken heart.

Specter had been in the field for years, known by her team as the silent guardian who always had their backs. She had learned how to move through the chaos of warzones, appearing only when needed, a steady presence in the most chaotic of circumstances. But even a field medic like Specter needed time to heal after emotional wounds.

A week ago, she’d been heartbroken after her breakup. It had been a quiet, brutal thing, not loud, not dramatic, but it left a sting that felt deep. Her teammates, the 141, had noticed the change in her mood. It was subtle at first, but over time, it was clear that Specter wasn’t her usual self. She was distant, quieter than usual, and the sparkle that had once been in her eyes seemed dimmed. The heartbreak was something that couldn’t be fixed with bandages or quick fixes. It was something only time could soothe.

The first to take action was Johnny, always quick to try and lighten the mood. It was a part of him that Specter always admired. Johnny was the one who often joked around, keeping things light even in the most dire of circumstances. He had his quirks, his bad jokes, and his tendency to tease, but in that moment, he became something more.

He knocked on Specter’s door late one evening, knowing she’d likely be alone in her room, nursing the wound that was deeper than any physical one she’d ever treated. He opened the door to find her sitting by the window, staring out at the moon, the sadness in her posture undeniable.

“Hey, Specter,” Johnny said softly, his voice gentle despite the usual playful tone. “Thought you could use a little distraction. Got something for you.”

Specter raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak, her eyes not leaving the moonlit horizon. Johnny stood there for a moment, his fingers fumbling with something behind his back.

“Knock, knock,” Johnny finally said, his playful grin apparent even in the silence. “Who’s there? Lettuce.”

Specter’s lips twitched, the first sign of amusement she’d shown in days.

“Lettuce who?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Lettuce in, it’s cold out here!” Johnny finished, laughing at his own terrible joke.

Despite herself, Specter let out a small laugh. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed his stupid jokes. It was a soft thing, but it was enough to make her heartache ease for just a moment.

For the next few days, each member of the 141 took their turn to bring Specter a little light, with each of them doing it in their own way. Gaz was next, sitting with her in the rec room, offering her some of his tea and asking about her day, carefully dodging any talk of the breakup. Instead, he gave her a terrible Valentine’s pickup line, as if it was just part of the job.

“You must be made of copper and tellurium, ‘cause you’re Cu-Te,” Gaz said, trying to stifle a grin as Specter looked at him in mock disbelief.

“Really?” Specter asked, fighting a smirk. “That’s what you’ve got for me?”

Gaz shrugged, raising his hands in defeat. “What can I say? It’s a classic.”

That moment of laughter didn’t fix everything, but it was a reminder of the family she had in the 141. Still, it was Price’s turn the following day to test out his own skills with bad humor. But the man was as serious as they came, and his approach was much more blunt. He handed her a small box, which contained an old leather-bound notebook.

“I thought you might want to write about something else for once,” Price said quietly. “Maybe it helps take the edge off.”

Specter opened it to find a simple message inside. “Sometimes, healing takes more than a medic. It takes a friend.” It was enough to make her throat tighten, and she found herself staring at the message for longer than she intended. Price’s words felt like a lifeline, one she didn’t know she needed until it was handed to her.

But then came Ghost’s turn. The quiet, stoic figure who, despite his stone-cold exterior, always seemed to know when to be there. He entered her room wordlessly and placed a small gift on her bed before sitting beside her without saying a word.

“You’ve been through a lot, Specter,” Ghost said after a long pause. “You’ve earned your rest. Take a moment. We’ve got your back. Always.”

It wasn’t the usual heavy-handed comfort she was used to from him. It wasn’t an attempt to fix things, but more like an unspoken promise that they weren’t going anywhere. They understood. They were family.

And then came Valentine’s Day, the culmination of the week of bad jokes and small, thoughtful gestures. The team had quietly arranged a small dinner, just the five of them, in a makeshift dining area in the compound. The table was set with candles, a touch of romance in the air despite their usual battlefield surroundings. Small bouquets of roses decorated the room, each with a little note from one of the men. The food was simple, but the love they had for Specter was evident in the way they set the scene.

Johnny grinned first, breaking the silence.

“Alright, alright, here goes. I’ve got a good one for you this time,” he said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”

Specter rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the laugh that followed. Gaz and Price exchanged looks, and then it was Price’s turn.

“I might not be a photographer,” Price said slowly, “but I can definitely picture us together.”

Specter chuckled, shaking her head. The tension from the past week seemed to lift with each joke, each act of kindness.

Gaz leaned in next. “Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

By the time Ghost spoke, his voice was as smooth and quiet as ever. “Do you have a map? ‘Cause I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

Specter looked at each of them, her heart lighter than it had been in days. They had been her family before all of this, and they continued to be, now more than ever. The small gestures, the jokes, the moments of quiet understanding it wasn’t about fixing her heartbreak, it was about reminding her that she wasn’t alone. In the midst of their lighthearted teasing and Valentine’s Day jokes, Specter realized that she had everything she needed right there her team, her family.

The evening continued, the laughter filling the room as they shared a meal and lighthearted moments. The men took turns telling corny pickup lines, each more ridiculous than the last, until they were all in fits of laughter.

Specter found herself relaxing, something she hadn’t done in what felt like ages. She wasn’t sure how they did it, but with each bad joke, each thoughtful gesture, they had managed to pull her out of the pit of her own sadness.

As the night wore on, Specter’s heart felt a little less heavy. It was still tender, still raw, but the bond she shared with her team, with her family, was something that couldn’t be broken. She was grateful for them, for this strange, makeshift celebration of love and camaraderie, a reminder that, no matter what, they had her back.

Valentine’s Day had been a reminder that love didn’t have to come in the form of grand gestures. It could be found in the simplest moments in bad pickup lines, shared laughter, and knowing that, no matter how much life hurt, you weren’t alone.

Authors note: Hey everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this little Valentine’s-themed fic I put together for you my lovely readers. I just wanted to share something special and sweet! Sending lots of love your way HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!!🫶🏼

[the-flesh-vessels-ghost]

Adding onto this point, it's mission imperative that you are happy sometimes. Burnout can kill revolutions. I've had to give myself a reality adjustment multiple times over the course of the past two months, sometimes just from doomscrolling alone. It's so easy to get in your head, bogged down by all the world-shattering bullshit the cheeto man and his accomplices are trying to do. But take a breath. Please. No I'm serious, put your phone down, physically look up, and inhale.

Do it again.

One more time.

Repeat after me: "I can't fix everything."

And that's okay. You're just one person, friend. The movies lie to us when they give us heroes that single-handedly defeat evil. That has always, and always will be, a group effort. So pick something small, and just do it. Yesterday I went outside at 2am and made some snowmen outside the courthouse with protest signs on them since I don't have a lot of friends willing to protest with me. And the oddest part? I kinda enjoyed it. Rebellion isn't always grand sweeping gestures, sometimes it's the smaller things that can lead up to grand sweeping gestures.

But in the meantime, take care of yourself. Please. Eat something, go drink water. Go do that one task you've been avoiding. Go start that project, or go finish that project. Do something that makes you not hate life as much.

Joy is integral here, friend. It's to remind us that we have something worth fighting for.

Sorry about the rant I'm just SO sick of this "we have to be on all the time never look away if you aren't upset about politics and traumatizing yourself watching people die on Twitter you're wrong and complicit and evil" like I know things are fucked and we need to stay angry but we can do that while also taking a minute to crack open a cold one with the boys or have gay sex or get tipsy at the line dance, we HAVE to have joy to remember why the fuck we're refusing to give up in the first place. Fight like hell for your loved ones and then also go home with them to smoke weed and drink sweet tea and make biscuits covered in honey and butter please, please don't deprive yourself of joy, you're allowed to be happy BEFORE the work is done. You're allowed to be happy.

[lmaowhatt]

𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲.

— this entire blurb is inspired by @rafescokewhore's tit obsessed rafe and is not meant to copy their work in the slightest!

—sfw! (?)

jj maybank, as we all know him, is a guy who thrives off of words of affirmation. that being said, the thought of sweet nothings whispered into each other's ears, soft "i love you's" shared throughout the day when no one else is around, and small expressions of adoration that serve to remind him of how deeply you care is one of the things hes most grateful for in your relationship.

but something he perfers above this? physical touch. while the thought of holding each others hands while at a party at the boneyard, or the times when youd wrap his arm around your shoulders as you took a stroll on the beach after a date was a good memory to have, that was all recognized as a form of affection infront of others. and while he loved showing you off like a trophy, the thing that really got him going was your ass. plain and simple.

on the worst of worse days, your ass you being there was the cure.

and there was no way hed share that with anyone else.

he would, however, show off what others couldnt have.

➯ every hug, no matter where the two of you were, his hands would always find their way around your waist, where they eventually travel to your ass, sometimes to be left placed there, other times theyd give it a soft squeeze.

almost always, youd groan as you pulled away, "stop doing that, jj." he would only smirk, catching the way your cheeks would flush a soft pink color when he patted your ass in retaliation as you walked away.

➯ when the two of you found yourselves cuddling either really late at night or early in the morning, he would always prefer to be the big spoon. most of the time, a hand would be placed over your stomach, the other draped over your thighs, pulling you flush against him, trying to hold back a lazy smirk at the way your breath would hitch when you felt his hard on against the swell of our ass.

➯ of course, his absolute favortie. clothes on you would be his t-shirts with or without, he wasnt picky your panties on under. a close secon would be any other piece of his clothing, even his boxers. when this happened, he complained the slightest. no matter how apart the two of you were, a selfie of your daily fit check would have practically having at his knees, realization dawning on his that you were his and his only.

➯ as a man who thrives off physical touch, a simple gesture jj loves performing is wrapping an arm around your waist and placing his hand in your pants pocket. or shorts, depending on the day. while above the surface it way seem like a loving gesture a boyfriend would do on his girlfriend on a random day, to jj, it served to send a warning to any thirsty guys that are defnitely might be looking in your direction.

—soft of sfw!

➯ in times when the two of you finally got some well deserved alone time, youd find yourselves in jjs designated bedroom at john bs house. youd be chest to chest, your head resting against his shoulder, fingers tracing small shapes on his clothed chest. all the while hed have a tight grip on your ass, slowly rutting your hips against his, the arousal that coated your bottoms slowly stainign his sweats.

➯ hed wrap an arm around your waist, toying with the waistband of whatever bottoms youd be wearing, tucking the other one on the underside of your thigh. "you need to stop movin', a'ight?" hed take a gentle hold of your hand, your eyes following his every movement, eliciting a small laugh to come from you. "seriously?" you would raise an eyebrow at him as he cupped himself with your hand, just barely pressing down as if to relieve himself.

➯ hed furrow his eyebrows with a pleading look, struggling to hold back. "please baby... ill make you feel s'good mamas, swear." the whisper would come out as a gentle promise, his breath fanning your neck. nine times out of ten, this situation would end up with both of you either rushing off to the chateau, almost tearing each others clothes off or resting against the seats of the twinkie. hell, sometimes youd risk everything by slyly (not slyly) finding each other in a more private area of the beach. heavy, ragged breaths would leave your mouths as you came down from your highs.

➯ sometimes, when in a less that appropriate outfit around him, hed hug you from behind, rubbing his growing erection against your ass. "baby, youre killing me." you would then roll your eyes, supressing a giggle from his earshot. as you turned in his arms, his hands would travel to your ass, pulling you impossibly closer towards him. "cmon mamas, five minutes. s'all i need."

—nsfw!

➯ the tight grip hed have on your ass never faltered, whimpering shamelessly against your lips as you rutted your hips against his, even when fully clothed. he would move to place sloppy, rushed kisses against your neck, eventually moving to your collarbone and back up to your lips. "this is torture, beautiful.."

➯ your mascara stained face would rub against the mattress, makeup residue staining the sheets. youd turn your head to the side, a tear sliding down your cheek as you watched him from your peripheral, right in time for him to land yet another harsh smack against your already red and very swollen ass, his thrusts timed perfectly with the action. kneading the plush flesh and he muttered a half assed apology he probably didnt mean.

"h– holy shit baby.." hed hunch over, pressing his chest against your back, a sheen layer of sweat coating both of your bodies. "all mine, right? this ass is all mine baby. cmon say it.. yknow it is.." he would wrap his forearm around your neck, pulling you back up so the him, your back flush against his chest as you threw your head back onto his shoulder, a hand wrapped around the back of his neck as your release neared.

a/n: im back!! school was taking over my entire life but i finally caught with all my work so here's this!

psa: as of now, if say i own this only because i haven't seen this concept before. but, if it is owned by a nobody else, i wont hesitate in giving credit just let me know!

[sporesgalaxy]

hey I updated the Pierre Document. The document with all the information about which version of events I consider canon to Pierre. the Pierre document where i write down random shit all the time. that document.

posting this as im on the verge of passing out so i dont have time ti regret it yayyyyyyy

•••

Pierra's family are avid travelers, possible for mild-mannered citizens like them due to their home island Old Tool's status as a travel hub and their family history of working in the Marine shipbuilding and sailing industry. Thus, Pierra being taken along on a pleasure cruise with the rest of her family would be an unheard of luxury in most of the world, but it wasn't originally all that big a deal to Pierra.

Things took an unexpected turn after the cruise ship Pierra was on had already crossed the Grand Line (using sea prism stone technology) and entered the East Blue.

Since the East is supposedly the safest of the four blues, the hired Marine guards were lazy in their security measures, drinking and partying to congratulate themselves on crossing the Grand Line without incident.

Therefore the ship's protectors were woefully unprepared when the Buggy Pirates suddenly attacked! The Pirates were on their way to Reverse Mountain, and energized after reuniting with their captain and escaping Marine custody!

The pirate attack happened while Pierra was avoiding her family (and especially her mother) on a quiet part of the ship and quietlt spiralling into despair about how she has no idea what to do with her life. The terrifying pirate attack was almost a welcome distraction.

With no one she knew close at hand to worry about the safety of, Pierra's first instinct was to hide, and she was scared enough to employ the devil fruit powers she swore never to use in order to hide in an impossibly small space! This gambit backfired however, and to Pierra's acute horror, her hiding spot inside a crate of alcohol was taken aboard the Big Top as loot.

Pierra managed to stay hidden as a stowaway on the Bigtop for at least a couple of weeks. Then, the Buggy Pirates met Portugaz D. Ace, who managed to be the first person to notice the giant red centipede sneaking around the ship. Luckily for Pierra (who spur-of-the-moment decided to go by Pierre and "pretend" to be a guy), Ace is nice and believes Pierre when he says that he never meant to cause any trouble. And luckily for the Buggy Pirates, Pierre is down to his very core desperate for approval and has a lot of chitinous helping hands he's delighted to lend as long as you tell him he did a good job.

--------

Tiny Pierra lets ants crawl all over her. She watches them tear apart a dying grasshopper in the garden, piece by piece.

Pierra looks with wonder in her eyes at a rotting fish covered with maggots. At a dead baby bird that fell from its nest too soon. At a bag full of bloody ducks her father shot.

Pierra gets too upset sometimes, and too frightened frequently.

Pierra hides as often as possible.

When Pierra starts getting big, she wishes she was still small. She used to like squeezing into tight spaces; inside a box, under a small desk, under a bed. She doesn't fit anymore. Sometimes she feels like she's stopped fitting anywhere at all.

Pierra sneaks into other people's rooms when she's alone in the house, just to look around without disturbing anything. Just to hear the silence.

Pierra takes food she is not supposed to eat, just to get away with it. Just to test how far she can go without being noticed. Just to be unnoticed and forgotten on purpose, instead of as a reflex.

When Pierra is 16, she goes to the market with her mother. While her mother speaks to someone, Pierra breaks off a tiny piece of the most interesting fruit at the stand. No one notices her do it this time. Pierra chews and swallows the piece of fruit, and it tastes bad, but Pierra is pleased to have learned what it tastes like without permission.

Later that evening, alone in her room, Pierra thinks she is dreaming, or maybe losing her mind. She wonders half-heartedly if the fruit was poisonous and she is dying-- but she doesn't want to disturb anyone if she's wrong again.

So, she does what she always does when she thinks she is losing her mind: distracts herself and waits for it to pass.

It passes, eventually, but this won't be the last time. She learns that it's not madness, but the curse of a Devil. She learns she can't swim anymore. She prays for forgiveness. She tells nobody.

When Pierra gets too upset and admits it her mother a year later, she is begged never to transform again. To hide it forever, for her own safety. Human traffickers could be anywhere, her mother says, and Devil Fruit users fetch a high price. Pierra promises to keep hiding. Pierra wonders if it will be easier now, having someone who understands.

Pierra's mother goes back to acting like nothing ever happened. It doesn't get much easier.

---

"It'll be okay," says Pierra's mother gently, drawing her daughter into her arms. Pierra wraps her arms around her mother as well, because she is supposed to.

"We'll figure this out..." her mother continues, "...we can fix this."

Pierra stares over her mother's shoulder as she feels the last remains of her hope crumble away in silence.

That's it, then. Despite everything, despite so many years of cyclical disappointment and pain... Pierra's mother would not give up on "fixing" her.

She and her mother had been repeating this painful exercise for Pierra's entire life. Over and over, every year, every month, every week, for as long as Pierra could remember.

Pierra is so tired of trying to be fixed. She is tired of trying to be something she isn't. She is tired, so so tired, of letting down people who see something in her.

She had hoped that after such a spectacular failure as this one, her mother might finally give up on fixing her. She had hoped that her mother might start trying to learn how to forgive her, instead.

That hope was gone now.

Now, Pierra can see that her mother will never stop waiting for someone less disappointing to take Pierra's place. Pierra can see that her mother's pity will always be directed at the less disappointing person Pierra is certain she can never be.

Wrapped in her mother's arms, Pierra has never felt more alone.

"We'll figure it out together," her mother adds, squeezing Pierra's shoulders tighter.

----

Humans have to be taught everything. We're very good at learning. It's what we evolved to do.

Some animals have to be taught how to do things. How to hunt, where to go.

But many animals exhibit behaviors that are never taught to them.

Humans have a precious few. Holding our breath underwater, hanging on with our arms.

The less social the animal, the less learning it tends to do.

The more its behavior is ruled by instinct.

-----

Most Observation Haki users learn to tune out the auras of nonaggressive bugs, consciously or unconsciously.

Otherwise, their senses would be overwhelmed by spiritual "noise" from hundreds of tiny auras. The glut of information can make it harder to notice actual threats, and the easiest solution is to ignore typically irrelevant details-- i.e., bugs.

It's something like mentally tuning out the sound of cicadas in a forest when you are listening for a distinctive bird call.

In his centipede form, because of his skittish nature and typical lack of malicious intent paired with centipede instincts from his Zoan abilities, Pierre's aura usually registers as a genuine nonaggressive bug aura. It can therefore go easily overlooked, despite Pierre's large size.

Like if our proverbial birder was listening for bird calls, but Pierre was a bird whose call almost perfectly mimicked a cicada.

It takes a very skilled Observation Haki user and a very sharp mind to take in ALL auras in an area without tuning out small details like harmless bugs. To these sort of people, centipede Pierre can be detected just as well as anything else, and his large size will even cause him to stick out.

In the cicada metaphor, these people are sharp enough to identify any bird calls and count the number of cicadas calling at the same time. And Pierre sounds like a cicada...but not a species of cicada the expert listening recognizes. Thus, Pierre sticks out.

Pierre's attitude can also ruin his bug aura camoflauge. If he is too focused on anything besides his own survival, his aura ceases to be nonthreatening or buglike enough and he will no longer go overlooked.

For bird-Pierre, this would be like accidentally letting out a distinctly bird-ish squawk rather than the mimic-cicada call.

-------

B: [unlocking a chest] This poster better be the best thing since sliced bread or I am completely SCREW--

[Pierre is revealed to be inside the chest. Buggy gawks at him.]

P: I- I know how this looks!

P: But it's not the same as last time!! I'll leave as soon as I--!

B: [snotty, sobbing, frantically grabbing Pierre's shoulders] NO!!!!!! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!

P: !!!! [Pierre is wide-eyed and speechless]

B: [stops sobbing] wait a second.

B: [shaking Pierre by his lapels, angry now] Where the HELL have you been, Chucklehead?!!!

P: [being comically shaken around too much to form a response]

B: I haven't seen you since we got arrested on--!!!

B: [stops shaking Pierre, squints at him] .....OHHHHH.

[Pierre has no idea whats going on, is still being grabbed by the lapels]

B: [angry smile] [lets go of P and crosses arms] I see what happened!!!!

B: [vindictive] The government took back your pardon because they abolished Warlords!

B: [pokes Pierre in the chest] So after two years of thinking you're BETTER than me,

[Pierre's eyes widen]

B: You had no choice but to come crawling back!!! [flicks Pierre's nose] GYAHAHAHAA!!!

B: [patting Pierre's head condescendingly] Don't worry Chucklehead, I won't make you grovel. Much. [mean grin]

P: Wait, what?! [earnest] I-I'm not-- I don't think I'm above you, Buggy!! That would be crazy!!

B: [smug aura cracks slightly] Eh?

P: [sheepish] I'm surprised you even remember my name! A famous pirate like you must meet so many amazing people, I didn't think I'd stick out at all...

[Buggy gets smug again, and a bit flustered]

B: Well, heh heh...

B: [remembers he's mad] Then why'd you ditch me?!!

P: I-I didn't ditch you!

B: Like hell!!! All the Buggy Pirates got pardoned when I became a warlord, but YOU never came back!!

P: Because I'm not a Buggy Pirate?! I was a stowaway!

B: [gawks again, like "are you serious??"]

P: ...you...wanted me to come back??

B: [dodging the question] YOU'RE DODGING THE QUESTION!!!

B: What were you even doing for th last two years that was so much better than ME-- MY CREW!!!!!!

[FLASHBACK PANEL: Pierre on the Snail. He is saying "No, Mom-- I-- I DO want to be here. The science is really interesting, I just--"]

P: ...Well, keheh... [drags hands down face] ...Ugh. Trust me, I did NOT wanna be there.

P: So, when the navy caught the Buggy Pirates, they saw my Devil Fruit power.

P: [before Buggy can ask] I know I told you I've had this since I was a kid, but I never used it before I was with you. It was always this big secret.

P: Anyways, I was really afraid that I'd get in trouble for hiding it, so I told them I got the Devil Fruit on your ship and that I was a hostage.

[Buggy squints at Pierre. It's a good thing Buggy likes him and is exactly as cowardly]

P: They believed it, and I was hoping they would just let me go home, but they really wanted my Zoan powers, so I ended up stuck with the Marines...

[FLASHBACK PANEL: Marine representative says "You've got a unique ability, Ms. Pierra. Opportunities like this shouldn't be wasted! Please, consider our offer, at least--" Pierre interrupts: "I'll do it." He looks terrified and miserable as he says it. What's his problem?]

P: And that's where I've been for...two whole years.

[FLASHBACK PANELS: Pierre thinking "I have to get out of here." "I hate this." "I can't do this anymore." Pierre talking on the snail again, "Yeah, I'll look into research positions." "No, I haven't looked yet." "I've been really busy..." "I just haven't gotten around to it." "I still wanna do something different."]

B: Okay. So how the hell did you end up in my closet???

P: Uh.

P: They sent me with the guys who were supposed to arrest you, actually, but I ditched them.

[FLASHBACK PANEL: Pierre is on a Marine ship looking miserable and indecisive. Suddenly it is chopped in half by Crocodile. Pierre survives by hiding in a barrel & manages to paddle ashore.]

B: And you snuck all the way in here? On an island full of bounty hunters??

P: [manic grin] ...I guess!

P: I'm kind of just trying to not die right now!

P: Thanks for not killing me, by the way! Kehaha!

B: Kill you?? Of COUUURSE not, Pierro-chan!!!

B: [claps Pierre on the back] Why would I kill my own PERSONAL bodyguard!!!

P: ........HUH?

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I would love to see your headcanons of how Darry would prank Pony. How he would be a little shit in his own eldest-brother way.

oh my god hello love!! ok i think about these two CONSTANTLY I have a handful!!!

ok one I think as a small day to day mischief Darry LOVES to wake Pony up by grabbin' him by the ankles 'n just YANKIN' Darry's always the first one up of the three of them most days 'n he never ever stops thinkin' its funny to wake Pony up in the most jarrin' way possible

I know I've talked about this somewhere else but Darry also adores just lyin' for the fun of it. Pony'll ask him what the weathers supposed to be like or how somethin' works or any of the other million things he's always pesterin' Darry about 'n if he doesn't know (or half the time even when he DOES) he's just makin' that shit up. Pony CONSTANTLY has to fact-check him but most times when he asks Soda he doubles down on the lie (a decent amount of the time Pony believes a complete n utter lie for MONTHS until he mentions it to someone else 'n they're like huh? what are u talkin' about that's not true Pony goes home FUMIN')

Darry will just pick Pony's ass up. Not movin' fast enough? picked up. gettin' in the way? picked up. sittin' where Darry wants to? picked up. not necessarily a prank but for sure an older brother mannerism that makes Pony fuckin' CRAZY he is always THRASHIN' 'n WAILIN'

He'll randomly shout Pony's full legal name for no reason at all i.e. "PONYBOY MICHAEL CURTIS" 'n Pony feels all the blood drain outta his face 'n he BOOKS it over 'n Darry's like "do u want casserole for dinner?" Pony's standin' there huffin' 'n puffin' RED in the face

Sometimes when Pony's headin' out to do somethin' Darry already told him he could Darry loves to pull the "WHERE do you think ur goin'?" 'n when Pony's like "the movies? you said I could?" Darry's like "mmmm no I don't think I said you could do that" Pony's losin' his mind "yeah you DID" Darry's got a hand on his chin cartoonishly like "mmm not ringin' a bell I don't think so"

When someone's tryin' to make plans with Darry 'n he does NOT wanna go he'll be like sorry :( can't leave the kid alone shucks man yeah well what are you gonna do? yeah I know he's fourteen but last time I did that I came home to four empty vodka bottles. Huh? Oh naw he didn't drink 'em. Do you know what a Molotov cocktail is? He STAYS lyin' on Pony's name

Oh he loves to pull the "oh jesus Pony did you forget?" "forget what?" "holy fuck Pony you really did, didn't you?" "forget WHAT? the dishes? the laundry? what?" "jesus Pone AGAIN?" "WHAT??" oh he TORMENTS him

when Darry's runnin' late (exceedingly rare but still) he blames it on Pony EVERY time somehow it is always that kids fault he's runnin' behind

[konigsfavgirl]

꒰ guess who decided to post again after an eternity? im so sorry yall im locking from now on ꒱

König is that type to: Pull you behind him protectively if someone even slightly looks at you the wrong way

König is that type to: Accidentally lift you off the ground when he hugs you because he forgets how strong he is

König is that type to: Wear his hood even at home because it makes him feel comfortable and safe, sometimes even forgetting he has it on

König is that type to: Struggle to sit comfortably in small chairs, his knees always too high, it ends up looking like he is sitting on a kids chair

König is that type to: Act all tough in public, but when he is alone with you he acts like a lovesick puppy

König is that type to: Genuinely enjoy grocery shopping, but always buy too much and struggles where to put all of those stuff he bought

König is that type to: Let you do whatever you want to him ꒰style his hair, steal his hoodies, poke his cheeks ꒱ he’ll just sigh and let it happen.

König is that type to: Try to “share” the blanket with you, but somehow always ends up with 90% of it ꒰ he claims that he should be your blanket ꒱

König is that type to: Get super focused when cooking, measuring everything perfectly, like it’s a military mission.

König is that type to: Cover his face with his hands when flustered, like a giant embarrassed mess.

König is that type to: Say “Scheiße” under his breath when he drops something, then crouch down dramatically like it’s the end of the world.

König is that type to: Fidget with the hem of his mask when nervous or deep in thought.

König is that type to: Struggle to text with his massive fingers, constantly making typos usually not even noticing them

König is that type to: Sleep in the weirdest, most chaotic positions, dragging you with him as he cages you with his arms and legs like a koala

König is that type to: Whisper “Entschuldigung” (excuse me) to objects when he bumps into them

König is that type to: Duck under doorways instinctively, even if they’re tall enough for him ꒰ he good trauma yall ꒱

König is that type to: Panic if you cry, immediately pulling you into his arms and mumbling in German because he doesn’t know what else to do.

König is that type to: Look terrifying when staring, but he was just dozing out thinking about what to eat for dinner

König is that type to: Genuinely believe you are the best thing in his life, even if he’s too awkward to say it all the time.

[hitlikehammers]

SOMETIMES: you just can’t say the words ♥️❓💕

(but that doesn’t mean they’re any less true💖)

But, like, it’s always that. The same dude delivers the pizza, expects Steve to have the cash out and tell him to keep the change—whether Eddie’s slipped a ten inside earlier or not; Steve’s given up fighting him on it because he understands he got a government payout, too, and he also has some small shred of pride left, even if that’s not really why he does it. He does it more for…reasons far too humiliating, and vulnerable, and worse-still too tender, too fucking domestic, to own to in real words and cogent enough to appropriately or accurately imply his…deeper and-or larger feelings on the matter. So. Steve lets him get away with it, and just sometimes smiles at the bills, sometimes rolls his eyes, and it feels… Ways that Eddie’s doesn’t put words to. He just explained that, Jesus H.

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, friends-to-✨more✨, softness, feelings reveal, you don’t always need words to know that it’s love, fluff, slice of life, cuddling, casual intimacy, hint of angst (in eddie’s head and eddie’s head alone), smitten boys, pining over pizza 🍕 , prime date night, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day fourteen: "Come sleep with me: We won't make Love, Love will make us.” ―Julio Cortázar

Steve’s at the door, paying for the pizza: one classic pep-n-sausage, one supreme, and one half-meat lovers, half-Hawaiian—not because they disagree about toppings—they actually agree too perfectly, and that that culinary heathen Argyle can never know his outrageous suggestion was taken on board; they cannot risk any stray leftovers giving them away, just in case.

But, like, it’s always that. The same dude delivers the pizza, expects Steve to have the cash out and tell him to keep the change—whether Eddie’s slipped a ten inside earlier or not; Steve’s given up fighting him on it because he understands he got a government payout, too, and he also has some small shred of pride left, even if that’s not really why he does it.

He does it more for…reasons far too humiliating, and vulnerable, and worse-still too tender, too fucking domestic, to own to in real words and cogent enough to appropriately or accurately imply his…deeper and-or larger feelings on the matter. So.

Steve lets him get away with it, and just sometimes smiles at the bills, sometimes rolls his eyes, and it feels…

Ways that Eddie’s doesn’t put words to. He just explained that, Jesus H.

Can’t be a fucking surprise by this point. At least not to Eddie.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it. They have a routine. They have a, a…this is a standing engagement. Like a meeting marked on a calendar, save that they don’t have to mark it down or call to confirm: it just happens. They just know.

And Eddie sees the Party is various combinations throughout the week—more and more as his rehab is actually starting to make progress, as he’s lasting longer off the couch and even sometimes outside the house entirely, might even get behind the wheel again all on his own within the month. But by Friday, he’s more than spent. He’s gotta take the breather, still, and Steve sees it. Never says so.

But makes sure Eddie’s comfortable on his own motherfucking couch with the most scintillating new release Family Video has to offer, and their regular pizza order already on the way.

Steve always comes to him. Every fucking Friday, when he knows Eddie’s still not, maybe never willprefer being entirely alone ever again, and knows just as sure that Eddie can’t be anywhere but here.

So Steve is…always here.

Eddie doesn’t know what prods him to open his mouth about it now, of all possible times; doesn’t know what prompts the thoughts themselves to weave into words at all.

But as soon as they’re out, he knows that he means them. Which means they’ve been living under the surface, festering in wait, longer than he probably could have known.

“Don’t you ever get sick of this?”

It’s such a fucking sigh that stream from Eddie’s lips on the question, too. Self-pitying. But also a little bit of an accusation, like: why the fuck is Steve even still here, when anywhere else would be infinitely preferable?

Steve turns toward him, slice of pizza hanging from his mouth. He’s…he’s fucking beautiful.

How he’s fucking beautiful with a mushroom falling from between his teeth is beyond Eddie, but fuck all: it’s the god’s-honest truth.

But Steve takes a proper bite and puts the other half of the slice back in the box because of course they don’t bother with plates, and finishes chewing what he’s got on this tongue with an extra layer of thoughtfulness; takes an extra batch of seconds before he swallows. Weighs his wine words carefully when they come:

“What do you mean?”

It’s not evasive. It’s not even trying to force the ball back into Eddie’s hands. It’s…Eddie can tell Steve has different answers, depending on how Eddie responds.

So he decides to weigh his next words extra-careful, too.

“Just like, this, man. Same ol’, same ol’.”

It’s not what he wants to say, he knows that as soon as it’s put out there to be heard. But he doesn’t know if he actually knows what he wants to say, or ask, let alone how. He gestures at the room around them, winces at the tightness it tests up his left side—hopes maybe Steve will get some inspiration and find his words for him.

Like he’s found so much of Eddie these past months, pieced him back together when he was sure in the beginning he’d never be whole again.

“Sick of seeing you hurt this bad?” is what Steve comes up with, and…no, that’s not what Eddie was going for, but he’s gonna let it ride because it tingles like a sparkler in the Center of his chest.

“Of course,” and Steve says it as straight and definitive as Eddie thinks those words can be said by anyone, for anything; the way he figures maybe they were made to be said when words started in the first place.

Then Steve leans in, and Eddie…this is just how it always is, right? They do this every week. Almost exactly the same.

Steve doesn’t have to lean far to be close enough for Eddie to feel the breath of him, and swear to fuck, Eddie never realized they sat quite this close for the movies, crowded around the pizza. Knew their legs touched but…not this much.

Close to…tangled, almost. Fuck.

Eddies heart trips a solid five times before it remembers it ever knew a rhythm.

“But I’m never of being here to at least try to make it ache that little bit less,” and Steve’s hand lands soft on eddies thigh, and fuck, eddies breath les catches, more than just fuckin’ stops—steve reads it the wrong way, pulls back and grimaces from the heart, has the gorgeous audacity to say, all apologetic, and with feeling:

“Even when I can’t.”

Eddie does kind of suspect a lack of being useful is one of Steve Harrington’s biggest fears in life. But this…even just the sound of this lands different.

“No, no,” Eddie tries to sort out his thoughts, shake his head enough to clear it but not amp up a headache, something Steve’s taught him to be particularly attentive to that shit; “I mean, like,” and he huffs, closer to growls than anything more civilized.

“Can’t keep my shit together,” Eddie bursts out with, apparently finding the shape of the thing that’s been festering, surprising himself with it a little, but not…much.

Not really.

“Months later, almost a fucking year,” he spits, disgusted now that he’s unearthed the core of it, “and you,” he turns to Steve, still Leaned so goddamn close—

“It’s prime date night,” every Friday; “and you’re always here,” on prime date night, wasting his chances, wasting his time, wasting everything on—

“I’m ruining it,” Eddie realizes, heart in his throat plummeting to his fucking stomach, appalled as he sees it all in the light of this new obvious truth, this truth that once Steve sees it too he’ll leave, and what if he doesn’t come back at all because eddies been hogging him without even meaning too, just been to selfish and wrapped up in his own bullshit, and he’s—

“I’m ruining you,” Eddie’s voice cracks, fucking appalled, goddamn devastated—and it’s not courage or anything, that lets Eddie reach out and fit his sometimes-shaky palm to Steve’s cheek and hold him there; it’s not some brave declaration of the way he wants things he still can’t name.

And the man he’s feels the unnamable thing for? He’s fucking taking up all his time, monopolizing his light, taking him away from the future he was talking through when he thought he was gonna fucking die, driving a goddamn RV, Eddie is a horrible fucking…worm, a pathetic excuse for a person, he is  ruining—

“Kinda.”

Eddie feels everything in him somehow…tense and start to disintegrate at the same time because…he knew it was true, but Steve, Steve’s agreeing—

“You’re kinda ruining me for anyone else.”

And Eddie blinks, blinks some more: because Steve sounds…happy.

Like…punch drunk.

Eddie chances breaking his heart for the thing he can’t name, and turns the little bit to took and—

Oh.

Oh, that smile. Steve’s smile.

At him.

It’s lazy sunlight. It’s syrup slow and sweet. It’s quiet and it’s comfortable and he’s only looking at Eddie. Not the TV. Not the pizza. Not the kitchen where the sink drips a little in the background but Eddie can’t hear it over the thump of his rabbit heart.

Just him. Like he’s…worth it.

Worth…being ruined. Like he’s—

“You’re ruining me for anything that isn’t this,” Steve says low, because he is brave, and maybe he can’t say the thing either but he can talk closer near it, like a hand pushed through Eddie’s ribs to calm his pulse and call it worth something.

Maybe worth a lot of somethings, even. Possibly, impossibly, even, worth everyth—

“That isn’t this, with you,” Steve breathes, and he looks like he thinks about leaning in that little bit more, like he was really thinking about pressing lips too eddies hair, his temple, maybe lower, maybe set to ruin him because Eddie feels a little ruined already, because Steve hadn’t meant ruined the Eddie was so fearing, so sure of; he was talking about something that rang out a key that echoes in his ribs like the thing he can’t name—

Steve doesn’t press lips to Eddie’s skin, though. Eddie tries not to be disappointed.

Steve stretches out across the couch instead, though, and props his legs up on the arm opposite where Eddie sits, socked feet crossed as he settles his head in Eddie’s lap.

He’s never done that before. Eddie’s heart takes a fucking flying leap when Steve’s lashes flutter and he looks up and Eddie like he’s exactly—somehow exactlywhat Steve wants for the ruination, as much as the ruining.

He grins up at him a little, and presses a little extra close to Eddie’s crotch as he shifts to reach his abandoned half-a-pizza-slice.

Eddie watches, transfixed. Enraptured.

His heart hasn’t even landed from the fucking leaping yet, while Steve’s biting and the tip of his pizza, the pouty part of the triangle, getting sauce at the corner of those lips—

“This feels like,” Steve talks with his mouth full; “like I always imagined home would feel like.”

He finishes the slice and chews while he settles his head closer to Eddie, and…and that’s where Eddie’s heart lands, settles too: down half in his stomach again, tapping frantic, close to Steve, closer closer closer—

And Steve just leans in.

And Eddie is…ruined.

How the fuck did he forget that word could mean something this…this.

Steve finally does press his lips to something; Eddie’s wrist when he reaches for his own slice of pizza, when he thinks his pulse is calm enough that he can swallow right.

Then Steve grabs it, pauses it in midair, tilts his head around the crust and just…kisses that heartbeat right up to making it difficult to breathe.

“Home,” he sighs a little, then looks up at Eddie again, wipes his lip off with his thumb and sucks the stray sauce off as he turns to the television with a hum as he exhales:

“That’s you.”

And Steve Harrington, spends prime date night at Eddie Munson’s house. Every week. Orders pizza: same place, same pies.

And the thing that Eddie couldn’t find a name for suddenly’s the only word his blood knows how to beat, and it’s not even scary that Steve has to hear it, pressed so close.

Because Steve is pressed that close.

And on prime date night—every prime date night—apparently?

Steve Harrington happily comes home.

To him.

♥️🖤♥️

✨also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

[hazydoe]

Waitress

Warning +18 only car sex, age-gap,dirty talk,mentions of masturbation,ride lol

English is not my first language

The restaurant was my refuge and my routine. A modest place, with worn-out walls and tables that had seen better days, but it held a warmth that only those who worked there could understand. The mornings were always the quietest, with the sun filtering through the windows and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. It was in those moments, before the midday hustle arrived, that I could think about my dreams, about university, about everything I wanted to achieve. But it was also in those moments when he arrived.

Joel Miller. I didn’t know his name until weeks later, but from the first day he walked into the restaurant, I knew he was different. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that certainly caught my attention. It was something in his gaze, in the way he carried his silence like armor, yet with a vulnerability that only someone who had lived a lot could have. He was older than me, that much was clear, but there was something about him that drew me in in a way I couldn’t explain.

At first, he was just another customer. He came with his brother, Tommy, and sat at the same table every morning. He always ordered the same thing: black coffee, scrambled eggs, and bacon. I served him with a smile, as I did with everyone, but I noticed how his eyes lingered on me a little longer than necessary. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just intriguing. And then, he started coming alone.

Every morning, without fail, Joel showed up at the restaurant. Sometimes he arrived early, right after we opened, and other times just before my shift ended. He always ordered the same thing, but what he really wanted was to talk to me. I knew it from the start. His questions were simple at first: what my name was, what I studied, if I liked working there. But little by little, the conversation grew deeper. He told me about his life, about his daughter, about the things he had lost and the ones he still held onto. And I, in turn, told him about my dreams, my fears, what it meant for me to be in university and working at the same time.

I don’t know exactly when I started to like him. Maybe it was the way he listened to me, as if every word I said mattered. Or maybe it was the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, something he didn’t do often, but when he did, it seemed to change everything around him. What I do know is that when he asked me out that night, I couldn’t say no.

My shift is over, and the restaurant is silent. The lights are off, except for the faint glow from the kitchen, where I hang up my apron and gather my things. Joel is outside, waiting for me by his truck. I saw him arrive a few minutes before we closed, and though he didn’t say anything, his gaze said it all. Now, as I step into the parking lot, the cool night air brushes against me, and he straightens up when he sees me.

"I can take you home," he says, his voice deep but soft. It’s not a question, but an offer that carries something more, something we both feel but don’t say.

I look at him, hesitating for a moment. I know what this implies, what could happen. But I also know I don’t want to say no. So I nod, with a shy smile. "Okay."

Joel opens the passenger door for me, and I climb into the truck. The interior smells like him: like leather, wood, and something indescribably masculine. He gets behind the wheel, starts the engine, and we drive away from the restaurant. The radio is on, but the volume is so low it’s barely audible. The silence between us is comfortable, but charged with a tension that grows with every passing second.

I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t ask. Joel doesn’t say anything either, but every now and then he glances at me, his dark eyes reflecting the light of passing headlights. Finally, he stops at a secluded spot, a small overlook that faces the city. He turns off the engine, and the silence becomes absolute.

For a moment, no one speaks. Joel turns to me, and I feel my heart beat faster. He raises a hand, brushing my cheek with his knuckles, and I close my eyes, letting myself be carried away by the sensation.

"You’re incredible," he murmurs, his voice rough, almost a whisper. And then, his lips find mine.

The kiss is soft at first, exploratory, as if we’re both testing the waters. But it soon intensifies, and I feel the heat spreading through my body. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer, and I respond with the same urgency. My fingers tangle in his hair, and I feel his breathing quicken against my skin.

Joel slips his hand under my blouse, and a shiver runs through me as his fingers find my skin. I lean back, giving him more access, and he doesn’t waste the opportunity. His mouth moves to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites that make me moan. I, in turn, fumble with his belt, feeling him tense under my touch.

The space in the truck is tight, but that only adds to the intensity of the moment. Joel helps me out of my uniform, and I help him out of his jeans, until there’s nothing between us. We look at each other for a moment, and in his eyes, I see something I hadn’t seen before: a mix of desire and tenderness that makes me feel both safe and vulnerable at the same time.

I start to ride him, climbing onto his thick cock, his hands exploring every inch of my body as his lips find mine again and again. I feel him readying himself, and then, slowly, we become one. A moan escapes my lips, and Joel muffles it with another kiss. The rhythm is slow at first, as if we both want to prolong the moment, but soon it becomes more intense, more urgent.

My hands grip his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as he pushes deeper into me. Every movement he makes makes me lose control, and soon I feel the world around me fading away. Joel looks into my eyes, and in that moment, I know we’re connected in a way that goes beyond the physical.

"You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this to happen," he says as I move and he limits himself to enjoying it, giving me firm slaps on the ass. "I just want to take you away from that job so all those men stop looking at you with lust, wanting you as much as I do. I bet they’ve been jerking off thinking about you, just like I have," Joel says, and feeling desired only makes my need grow even more.

"You’ve been jerking off thinking about me?" I say as I adjust myself so he can see how I move on top of him, and he can also see how my breasts bounce with the motion. "Yes, baby, all the time. You look so damn sexy in that skirt. I just wanted to press you against the wall in front of them and let them see how much you enjoy this."

"No one else will make me feel like this, I promise," I say as I move more erratically, with more need. My legs are trembling, and my hair is a mess. "God, Joel, I won’t last much longer."

With one final thrust, we both reach our climax, our bodies trembling with the intensity of the moment. Joel collapses onto me, his breathing ragged against my neck, and I hold him, feeling our hearts beat in unison.

We stay embraced in the tight space of the truck, our ragged breaths slowly syncing. Joel gently strokes my hair, and I feel strangely at peace.

[miruac]

dating nanami headcanons

masterlist

navigation

warnings: nanamin being the absolute green flag he is(im so in love with him it isnt funny)

a/n: i love this man. i love him so much. the blueprint for my type irl. i love u namin <3

nanami thought he would never date-want to date, while being a sorceror

but when he met you, it was like a switch turned on in his brain

he suddenly fell head over heels when you walked onto the campus, as a teaching assistant who worked under gojo

you stepped into the room behind gojo, and behind his glasses he was STARING at you

everything gojo was yapping about came in through one ear and left through the other

when some people write nanami they write him as if hes absolutely bitchless and has never felt like any attraction to ANYONE whatsoever

but not me teehee :3

sure nanamins had some crushes on the past, but not so bad that he would be daydreaming about them everyday while laying on his bed and kicking his feet

it's been a while since he's crushed on someone, so he dismisses his feelings

his heart racing? too much caffeine. blush on his cheeks? thermostat cranked too high. sweaty palms? wore too many layers

hes so oblivious but also not how tf do i describe him

so observative. he saw how you shifted your weight away from gojo when he leaned on your shoulder and nanami SWOOPED RIGHT IN

'y/n-san, are you feeling alright? here, let me take you to shoko.'

oh im feral lol AWOOOOOGA

it went from being assigned on missions together, to small waves and smiles at each other in the halls, then shared lunch breaks 💔

hes so protective its sooo hot

he manages to always tuck you behind him and shields you with his body

his shoulders....his back...his arms...🤤🤤🤤

smash WHATTT WHO SAID THAT

i did im admitting it and im proud to admit it

he does the thing that like whenever someone he doesn't like comes up and starts flirting with you grabs your waist and pulls you against him

he does it so easily too its scary but so hawt of him

HES SOO OBSERVANT

knows when ans how to cheer you up if youve had a bad day

he never never wants to get angry at you

if he gets too heated, he politely asks that both of you find some time to cool down

always knows how to comfort you

you want time alone? yeah youll get some space. you want food? hes ordering it. whatever you want, he does

oh my baby. my old baby. i love him.

hes such a sleepy guy

hes used to not getting as much sleep due to him working so much overtime in the past

so much that its become a habit for him to sleep for like at most 5 hours at a time

sometimes when he comes home, he beelines straight for you

he throws his blade and blazer to the side, kicking his shoes off

and then he just lays on you

its crushing but in the most comforting way hes like a giant weigted blanket

you can't count the amount of times he's fallen asleep on you like that

he just feels so safe around you </3

im sad now

[anemhoez]

Love Struck…

Blade/AFAB!Reader

WARNINGS: language and unprotected sex

A/N: whyyy did i think of him as i was writing for Mydei….glad it happened though cause ive been meaning to write for him for a while now 🥴 *hiccup* please enjoy, thanks 😀

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You gently removed the dirty bandages from his arms, doing your best to not agitate his skin any further. “Do you feel any kind of relief at all?” you asked, inspecting the deep wounds that seeped with mara. Blade scoffed, “Never.” His voice was calm, as if this was all too normal for him. And unfortunately, it was.

“Kafka can help once she gets back.” he said with a wince as you applied the cool herbal remedy. Hearing the woman’s name alone was enough to make you sigh audibly. Blade chucked, “You must be thrilled knowing she’s only a few days out.”

“Ecstatic.” you deadpanned as his hands reached out to you. You moved from his needy grasp, standing up from where you knelt before him to grab the fresh clean bandages. His intense crimson stare fixed on your hands swiftly rolling the white cloth up his forearms once you turned your attention back to him.

You finished without a word and stood up quickly, once again avoiding his hands that reached out to you. He was so used to thanking you with s kiss, that not receiving it this time made whatever he considered the heart in his chest to twinge with pain.

“The herbs I applied only help with the pain so, hopefully you don’t completely lose your mind before she gets back.” you explained pretending to be worried to no one, for Blade already knew that you kknd of liked it when the mara took over. Sometimes.

You hurried to collect your items as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you from behind. “Thought you liked it when i got a little, crazy.” he spoke in his usual calm way, but he made his voice even deeper, the vocal fry sending a shiver up your body.

You watched in the mirror before you as his large hands moved up your body, cupping your breasts through your shirt. “Don’t tell me you’re still worried about Kafka?” His voice was gentle in your ear as he trailed his hand down your front, his thick fingers rubbing against your clothed core. You inhaled deeply and let out a small moan as he turned you to look at him with his free hand.

His gaze threatened to melt you. His inviting lips tempting you through your current hateful thought about her to kiss him passionately and forget about everything. “She’s gorgeous of course I’m-.” Your sentence came to an abrupt halt as he crashed his lips onto yours, the rhythm of his hand between your legs more intense and rough.

In all your years of intimacy with people, you had never encountered a lover like Blade. He was rough but gentle at the same time, and oh so tenaciously deliberate with every move. The man has even made you come just from his stare alone, he was that good.

“If i have done anything right in our time together, I think its been showing you, quite intimately might i add, about how much you mean to me.” He finally slipped his hand into your pants deftly. A deep moan emanated from his throat as he felt how wet you were, the moan soon swallowed by your kiss. You turned to face him, your teeth pulling at his bottom lip roughly as you pulled away. “I hate the way she calls you, Bladie.” you said with a cringing face. “With that annoying, grating voice of hers.” you spat and he only chuckled softly.

His fingers curved inside of you as he moved closer, your eyes rolling back as he pushed you to sit on the counter. “I’ll tell her to stop then, will that help?” his voice was so much softer suddenly, your eyes coming to look at his, despite the downright debauchery that was currently going on between your legs.

You put your arms around his neck, opening your legs for him to slot in comfortably. You whined against his lips as his thumb rubbed against your clit, “Okay, but there’s one other thing.” you sighed before kissing him hard.

He hummed as he pulled his hand from you, stuffing his slicked fingers into your mouth, “Why do I have a sneaking suspicion about what you’re about to say?”

Your heart sank as you sucked your slick off of him, your saliva making a mess on your chin. His free hand was busy undoing his pants, his erect cock finally free from its prison as he pulled it out.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and used their wetness to coat himself. You pulled your pants down, letting them pool at your feet as you watched him pump himself lazily. “I don’t see how you would, we’ve never even talked about our relationship seriously before.” you said as you turned your rear to him, waiting for his thick cock to enter you, but he just stood behind you without moving.

“That’s exactly how I know darling.” his voice sounding a bit too cold for your liking. After all, how could someone like him, merciless and evil, ever say the words to you? Was he even capable of that feeling? Did all the years of mara running through his veins make him a complete emotionless shell?

You were always too scared to ask him, not that he’d hurt you in any way, but that you might just send him into some kind of mara-spiral that he’d never get out of. You knew that he’d rather hurt himself than hurt you, and that’s exactly what scared you the most.

Blade’s hands took you by the waist, pushing up the long shirt you wore to expose your waiting backside to him. He squeezed on the flesh hard, pulling you closer to him. He hissed as his dick rested hotly against the middle of your ass and rolled his body against you.

You looked at him through the mirror, the smirk on his face spreading, giving you a hint as to how he would move next. He let his dick slip from your ass to your folds, warm and inviting. “Do you see that bitch in the mirror?” he growled as you looked at yourself, the name he gave you hitting your core and making you seep around him even more.

“Y-Yes.” you whispered as his tip pordded against your entrance. Blade smiled as he began pushing into you, your walls accepting him immediately, “They’re the only one I need.” He slammed into you hard, the loud smack that echoed in the bathroom making him laugh. He picked up his pace, the need between the two of you growing in seconds. The need for him to make you come undone taking over any horrible thoughts he had of himself in his mind as the mara constantly threatened to take over.

Your mouth opened wide, gasping for air as Blade’s thick cock filled you so perfectly, the sensations igniting every nerve in your body. He shoved his fingers into your mouth again, “What more do I need to say to you? Do you simply need to hear those three words?”

You weren’t even sure anymore, about anything. You only felt him and your pleasure in that moment, almost not caring about the feelings that grew to their limit over the past year. He growled in your ear, biting down on your neck as he sought his release. He bent over you completely, your face on the smooth porcelain of the counter as he thrusted into you over and over again roughly. Your thighs shook as you started baring down on him in pulses, begging him to bring you over the edge.

Blade groaned and pulled you up by your hair, making you face him as he spoke, his dick buried so deep inside of you that you felt it wrecking your guts. “If you must hear it at least once, then fine. I love you.”

“Fuck, Blade,” you huffed as his words threatened to make you crumble in his very arms. “I love you too!” you yelped as he pulled your arms behind your back, using them to buck into you harder and faster. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave crashing on the shore, your body limp and writhing under him as he continued. You cursed out loudly, spewing lewd phrases to him as he used you like a sloppy sleeve. “Mmh, another thing I love, making you go absolutely berserk on me.”

The man behind you fixed his gaze on the reflection of the two of you in the mirror, the tears falling from your eyes and the way you begged for more sent him into his own intense release.

His moan was like music to your ears as his dick released its load into you, his fingers quickly coming to rub at your clit desperately needing to make you come again while he was still inside. “Yes, mmh-fuuck!” you screamed out and you soon climaxed again. This time however, with how he was nestled in you and the stimulation to your bundle of nerves, you squirted viciously on his hand.

“Messy little bitch.” he sighed in your ear before kissing it and moving your face by your chin to kiss you roughly. “Shut the fuck up.” you said in response against his lips, feeling his hand slow down against you even though you didn’t want him to stop.

Just then his phone rang from its position on the counter and he groaned before kissing you again. “What?” he said as he answered, his dick slipping out of you unceremoniously. “Understood, Kafka.” he said as he turned to look at you with a smile. You just rolled your eyes and put your pants back on, finally taking your things and leaving the bathroom.

He quickly came up behind you once he finished his call and the two of you walked down the hall and to your shared common area with the rest of the team. Silverwolf turned to the two of you from her position on the couch as you entered, “What took the two of you so long? I’ve been waiting in the game lobby for-oh.” her last word sounding more like a sigh of annoyance than anything. “You could have just said you needed some time alone, I’ve got shit to do you know.” Blade came up behind you and pulled you into a hug. “What are you-? We didn’t-? We were just-!” you tried to feign ignorance but the clever hacker before you just shook her head. “Save it, your hair’s all messed up and Blade’s got that look in his eyes.” she sighed and started the game without the two of you and quickly got immersed, ignoring the you for keeping her waiting.

“What look?” you asked as you turned to him, but he quickly closed his eyes. “I sincerely don’t know what shes referring to.” He gave you a quick kiss and moved from you, walking towards the couch, not once looking back. “Kafka called, said her departure is delayed for another two days.” Blade’s voice indifferent as he spoke to his comrade. “Oh no! What ever will we do?” Silverwolf responded just as indifferent, but adding her own tones of sarcasm to her statement.

He turned to you, his dark red eyes void of any emotion as he waved you over. You came over and sat next to him, the two of you enjoying being comfortably silent while Silverwolf played her game loudly. You know you loved him and you believed he loved you too, truly. You decided on having to be ok with not hearing it as much as you would like as long as he showed it in other ways. But just then he pulled you closer, kissing you on the cheek before his attention turned back to the screen. “I love you.” And you practically melted against him, his words making your heart flutier to the point of bursting. “I love you too.”

A/N: i honestly don’t have words cause i wrote this and posted it in one day?? does that mean i like him like him?!?! 😳 send help…