#sorry I’m an over thinker

[yaoigoddess9158]

I’m bored so I’m on an asking spree(again)

Money or Happiness?

Money ☺️

I’m going to be a bastard whether I’m happy or not, so I might as well be a rich bastard right? Plus, the only thing really making me unhappy is my money situation rn sooo…

And Ig I could buy a therapist with the money?

But it also kind of depends on the context of the question

Like, is it that I’m rich but the reason I’m unhappy is because my entire family is dead and the entire world hates me… then I’d chose to be happy instead

Or, I’m physically incapable of feeling happiness, then the therapist plan probably won’t work. Might still chose money for that context tho

If I’m already happy, would choosing money get rid of that?

If I’m already rich, would choosing happiness get rid of that?

Would anything be gotten rid of?

Is it just ‘gain money’ or ‘gain happiness’? ‘Cause if that’s the context, the answer if pretty obvious.

Or is the question like, ‘born happy but poor’ or ‘born rich but unhappy’?

Maybe choosing money gets rid of everything that makes me happy and choosing happiness gets rid of my money? That would be a hard choice. I’d choose money to buy the things that make me happy, but if they’re gone… then there would be no point. But I feel like that’s a bit unfair, and kind of pushing people to the happiness side, since I could still make money.

Or—for that context—I can no longer make money after choosing happiness, and would spend the rest of my life poor? Then I’d rather choose neither tbh

Also, how much money? Could I even say that I’d be rich after?

My friend also made a pretty good point. Is it that picking happiness would give me the things that make me happy? But, in that context, the answer would also be too easy, and every situation would lean towards choosing happiness. Like, money makes me happy, so would I get money? Books also make me happy, so maybe I’d just get books, but buying books is really the only reason I want money, so there’s no point in choosing money either way

Anyways, when I hear this question, I usually assume that you lose one or the other, because just gaining is really too easy to choose. I’m not unhappy right now, so why would I choose to gain happiness? Losing one would make the choice much more difficult

This is probably just a question of values, though, so, money.

[r4spb3rr13s]

holds out my hands

greeting my mcbling angel

maybe i pretty please ask for shoto, iida and denki meeting their own mcbling hottie 🙏🙏🙏

- 🍥 anon

pro heroes meeting their mcbling gf

♱ todoroki, iida, kaminari

♱ pt.1 here pt.3 here

notes : ur too cute anon 🥰🥰

Shoto has been stood staring at his options for soba for the past ten minutes. He’s deep in decision, hand on chin, in the middle of the store just before closing.

So deep in thought, he’s completely oblivious to you strutting round the corner to the aisle he stood in.

You’re on your phone, moving by muscle memory. Your favourite noodles are always in the same spot, so your uggs lead you to where the soba is-

But you look up.

Shoto- your favourite pro hero, for reference- is stood like the motherfucking Thinker. In your presence.

You backpedal, but it’s too late- he’s seen you!

Shoto turns you to and his eyes widen. You’re in a neon pink graphic cami, big hoops hiding from beneath (locs/braids/curls/strands) and as his eyes trail down…

His cheeks go as pink as the thong peeking out your pants’ waistband. I mean, Shoto didn’t really have time to register your slack jaw.

There’s so much running through your head at the minute- who wears a black compression shirt to the store? How are his muscles bigger in real life than on billboards? Why does his hair look so soft?

He coughs and it breaks the moment.

“Oh- sorry, can I just-”

“Yeah, I apologise,” He replies. When you lean over to grab your noodles, a waft of sugary, almost sickly, perfume hits his nose. It was intoxicating- not in a bad way.

You’re trying to steady your breathing- he’s just another guy, Y/n, chill! Boys fall left and right for you, just breathe.

Breathe.

“You’re Shoto right?”

Ohmygodidiotidiotofcoursehe’sshotowhaythefuckyo-

“Yes, that’s me.” He smiles slightly, corners of his lips lifting. Every nerve in your body is screaming to swoon - maybe he’d catch your fainting body?

You could look into his gorgeous eyes, and he’d brush the hair from your face-

“Is everything alright?”

You snap out of your daydream and smile awkwardly. “Uh… I’m just a big fan, is all.”

He nods and smiles down at you, softly. You clear your throat and hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“I like your clothes.”

Your world stops for a minute. How do you breath again? It’s not hard, Y/n, come on-

“Where did you get the inspiration?” He says. Shoto makes no move to leave - you’re not an annoying fan, begging for his autograph.

Plus, you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen.

You blink owlishly at him - his heart skips a beat, of course - and you just nod dumbly for a second. Then, it registers that he’s actually interested in you?

“Umm… 2000s stuff, American celebrities mainly. What about you?”

Shoto huffs a chuckle, “I don’t really have style.” He glances at his watch, and his smile morphs into a… pout? It’s subtle, but his brows furrow ever-so-slightly, and his bottom lip just out a little bit.

“Oh God, don’t let me keep you,” You hurry. Good lord, your face is burning up aggressively.

He shakes his head, but bites his lip still looking at his watch. “No, I’m on shift soon… it was nice meeting you…?”

“Oh, Y/n!”

Shoto smiles again, glances at his watch with an internal frustrated groan. He needed more time to talk to you, to understand you, to get to the bottom of the neon pink and leopard print-

Oh, right.

“Could I get your number, Y/n?”

:::

Tenya spent his nights going on walks. Why? Because he liked to meet his neighbours’ dogs… did he know that’s why he liked them, however? No. He just thought walking around gave him immense joy for no reason.

And they call him ‘smart’.

His favourite dogs were the least of worries when he walked past the park and heard shouting.

Tenya’s head snapped to, and he was marching through the park gates.

You, a grown woman, were stood on a table, wafting away… chihuahuas. You, in a tiny denim skirt and a babydoll top, were using your small purse to shoo away a trio of stray chihuahuas.

In all fairness, Tenya disliked chihuahuas the most of all the dogs he’d met, but he’s never seen someone in platform sneakers clamber onto a picnic bench to get away from them. Or scream at the top of their lungs at the tiny puppies.

He could not help but let out a laugh at the sight, making you look up at him. You straightened up a bit and stopped screaming, but still sounded shaky.

“You’re that hero right?”

“My name is Ingenium, yes,” he replied. One of the rat-dogs had turned to growl at him now, but Tenya paid no mind to it.

You pointed at the dogs. “Could you… y’know, be a hero and save me?”

He raised a brow without meaning to. He shouldn’t be judging you for your fears - he’s a hero! Here to help everyone!

But still… three tiny dogs?

He sighed and nodded. Suddenly, all three dogs were in his arms, and being carried towards the kid’s sandbox. He paid no mind to them nipping and jumping up- not like they could escape his large forearms.

Large firearms that you were looking at with much interest…

He returned, ignoring the yapping puppies trying to escape the gates, but not being tall enough to get out. “I’ll call animal control, Miss…”

“Oh, just call me Y/n. What should I call you?” You asked, taking his hand and stepping down.

Tenya tried to ignore how small your hand was in his, or how your skirt hitched up your thighs when you stepped down. Instead, he helped you stand upright on your wobbly legs, and pushed down his blush when you thanked him.

“Iida. Tenya Iida.”

You looked him up and down. Tenya Iida was tall, broader than a fridge and had glasses you desperately wanted to push up his nose for him.

“Well, Tenya Iida… can I take you out for a drink to thank you?”

Tenya froze and he couldn’t stop the red that stretched across his face at your question. But he nodded. But it was so unprofessional! A true hero would never use a victim’s position to their advantage, the power imbalance was-

“I’ll need your number then!” You sang out.

Tenya’s internal protests were lost as he passed you his phone, and you type in your digits with your long, zebra print nails.

:::

Now, Denki has met a few of Mina’s friends. They were all… nice. He flirted casually, maybe exchanging numbers with them, but they never ended up getting a call.

So when Mina announced she was bringing ‘fresh meat’ to their group’s monthly reunion, he didn’t really prepare himself for much.

Then, you walked in.

All giggles, sparkly black eyeshadow and lipgloss. Mina was whispering in your ear before strutting you through the doorway, but Denki was more focused on your shiny lips curling up into a grin.

A black tube top held you in, pink bikini straps wrapping around the back of your neck. His eyes travelled down- shamelessly, might I add- to the leggings hugging your curves. ‘PINK’ written on your ass caught his attention like a siren, and your matching hot pink toes from your sandals didn’t help either.

“This is Y/n!”

Katsuki and Eijiro barely looked up, immersed in an aggressive game of … cards, or something - Denki was not paying attention to them. He was, however, paying keen attention to the once-over Hanta gave you.

Mina grabbed your bangled-wrist and tugged you to sit with her between the two boys.

The unmistakeable scent of sugar and apples wafted over his face when you sat down. You shot him a big, toothy grin and Denki thought he was going to short-circuit right there-

He didn’t realise he actually was letting off electricity until he watched your hair stand on end.

“What the…” You tried to pat your hair down, while Mina cackled behind you. The pink woman draped an arm around your shoulder.

“Aww, Denki’s all nervous! Look at him!”

You stopped focusing on your hair and looked at the man next to you. Lean, tan and blushing furiously. He was, in truth, letting sparks fly off him like a faulty wire.

You chuckled, “You alright?”

Denki did not know what to do. You were staring at him with a cheeky smile, eyes wide and soft, and his friends were laughing and pointing at him behind you.

“Yes.” It was the only word the poor boy could get out. You snorted at him and rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone.

He watched with wide eyes as you grabbed his hand but you pulled back for a minute when he shocked you.

“Shit- sorry-”

“Just put your number in my phone, okay?”

You held out the device in your hand with a cocky grin.

Mina had to usher him to another room to calm down before he blew your phone up in his hand by accident….

note: pls shoto is so OOC IDFK HOW TO WRITE HIM 😭

[luveline]

that spencer x bombshell one you just posted has me giggling and kicking my feet I think I’m in love with YOU 🫵

Now I’m thinking of spencer x bombshell where the team starts to not view reid as unwillingly tortured by her flirting. Like maybe Morgan makes a comment to reid about something he does and is like “don’t torture the poor girl” and he’s like oh shit I’M the one torturing too now?

im in love with YOU !! for you, ty for requesting ♡ fem

“Difficult,” you say, resting your head on the table. 

“I know.” Spencer wiggles his pen back and forth between two fingers, thinking hard. This case is proving to be indecipherable. None of the details want to add up, and no clear profile geographical or otherwise appears. 

“Useless.” 

“Who, me or you?” 

“Us.” You sigh morosely. “Mostly me.” 

You're not being serious. Spencer huffs a soft laugh and continues to turn the details over in his head. You open your notebook and scratch down a couple of sentences with a pen, a visual thinker. Your mind map turns to a second iteration and then a third. You can't connect the dots because they're too far apart from each other; Spencer can't do it either. Not alone. 

He scoots his chair as close to yours as possible, your knees touching, his elbow in your side. “Can I look?” he asks. 

“Of course you can. Sorry about my handwriting.” 

He shakes his head. Your handwriting is perhaps the only thing about you he wouldn't say was one hundred percent perfect. You can't control it like other things. It is perfect, in a way, because it's yours, but you've been writing quickly and he struggles to make out the occasional letter. 

He leans in toward the page. “What's this word?” he asks. 

You lean in to see it. “Coruscated.” 

“The swimming pool?” he asks, lifting his face to yours. You're closer now, and beautiful like this. He can see the powder under your eyes, the lines in your irises, the slight fading of your lipstick at the corners of your mouth. There's an eyelash on your cheek. He lifts a hand to wipe it away. “What's so important about that?” 

“It reminded me of something…” You pause as he touches your face. “Something…” Your voice lilts up in question, half-shudder. 

“Eyelash,” he explains, blowing it off of his finger. 

“Right,” you say, eyes oddly wide and soft at once, your eyebrows lifted at the starts. 

“You okay?” 

“Is she okay? Reid, you're torturing the poor girl. Give her some air,” Morgan says with a chuckle. 

Spencer leans backwards in surprise, no idea what Morgan could possibly mean. Your eyes relax as you regain some personal space, your hands coming together loosely in your lap. You laugh weakly. 

Spencer looks you up and down. He's torturing you? That doesn't make sense. For as long as you've known one another, the team has joked that your flirty ways and feminine wiles are too much for Spencer to handle. You once gave him an apology he didn't want, worried you actually were hurting him by being your playful self, and he'd set that straight immediately. You don't torture him. It's a lot of feelings to be doted on so much by you, and painful isn't one of them. Overwhelming, sometimes, and exciting, sure. 

He never realised he had the power to overwhelm you. Not until that moment. You offer a funny smile far from your usual smirk and try to steamroll Morgan's claim. “Guess I should've made a wish.” 

“What would you wish for?” Spencer asks quietly. 

You still. Morgan shakes his head in disapproval, but he laughs again and stands up. “I think they'd call that a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart,” he says to you. 

You meet Spencer's eye. “I think they would,” you say bashfully. 

For three blissful seconds, Spencer enjoys the reality of having made you flustered. You, gorgeous, confident you, left flushed and a little daunted by his casual actions and simple (maybe slightly flirtatious) questioning. But then he remembers how much he likes you and pushes it away. 

“Sorry,” he says, plastering a smile over uncertain lips, “I didn't mean to do that.” 

“No, it's okay.” 

He turns to your notes, but gives you a look from the side. “I hope you wished for someone to solve the case. We're never getting anywhere like this.” 

“Are you saying you can't?” You rest your chin in your hand. “And here I thought you were more than a pretty face.” 

You have a quick recovery rate, evidently. 

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU’RE IN THE KITCHEN HUMMING

osamu dazai x reader

you show dazai the beauty in domestic life

inspired by sweet nothing

when dazai pictured his future, he pictured it short.

a mastermind of people, he knew that that the universe would eventually catch up to him. to his crimes, his wrongdoings, and all of his faults. truth be told, he pictured himself in some sort of prison, bleeding out on a stake of revenge, or simply just gone. he never exactly rejected death in the first place. he accepted it with open arms.

so to think he’d find himself, washing dishes from leftover marinated crab meat and glasses stained with sake while you do the laundry is more of a surprise than anything else. every now and then he looks over his shoulder, watching how you handle the delicate fabric of his brown vest with such care. you always use unscented soap. though you certainly have the money to buy lavender, or bergamot, the two of you enjoyed the simplicity of regular soap. because then, it has the scent of home.

but what exactly does home smell like? for so many years, he couldn’t answer that question. how do you match a scent to something that doesn’t exist? maybe he’d say it smelt like the port mafia hallways, or the smell of old bandages. maybe dazai felt that home smelled like it wasn’t there to stay.

now, home smells like you. it smells like the face mask you make him use because he takes shit care of himself. it smells like your bare shoulder in the morning, the patch of skin he always insists he kisses you awake on. it smells like your laughter, your smile, your beautiful eyes. you were home.

“samu?” you quip, pulling your boyfriend out of his trances. he blinks, his lazily draped arms subconsciously tightening around you.

“yes bella?” he asks, his voice lazy and his brown eyes tired from the day. if he could melt and simply become apart of you, he would. you’re the only part of himself he actually seems to love, anyway.

“were you listening?” you chuckle, knowing that he’s a thinker. he loves you for understanding that, for knowing the signs when he’s lost in his own brain. his nail biting, his wandering eyes, his occasional hums. you know it all, maybe better than dazai knows it about himself. you’d give anything to see what he’s thinking, the beautiful equations in his brain.

his lips curve into a smile, refocusing on you as you laid in his lap all tuckered out. “i’m sorry.”

you sigh, half disappointed but half too-love-struck-to-care. he pulls you flush against his chest, letting you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. oh, how beautiful it sounds.

“i was saying we should go down to that new bakery.” you hum, not minding to recount your experiences for him. “atsushi told me kyouka really likes the crepes there.”

you know he’s listening this time, evident by the way his slender fingers travel through your hair. he loves the silky feel of it, how it may be the softest thing he’s ever felt after years of strangling throats and pulling triggers.

he melts onto that couch with you. the only other sound that can be heard is the occasional drip and drop from the sink. he makes a mental note to check on it in the morning, making sure its not leaking too much.

in his experience, everyone was up to something. no person was just kind for the sake of being kind. and for all his life, people wanted things from dazai. he was used and shaped into a demon when all he’s ever wanted was just to disappear. he insists he’s fine, and that this is just the person he is. he assures everyone that the voices he hears, in and external, don’t bother him at all.

but to you he can admit, that sometimes, he’s just too soft for all of it.

you built a home from the ground up with him. you sheltered and fed a man who never knew what it was like to be loved without condition. all you ever wanted from dazai was nothing. sweet, sweet nothings. and he knew he’d give you everything he is and more in return for that love, for those sweet nothings.

[dantakeyoman]

You and Kiri Overhear Lo’ak Giving Neteyam Advice On How To Ask You Out (SFW / Comfort)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluffy fluff, Neteyam is adorable, Lo’ak and Kiri duo strike again, all this is based on this one tik tok sound that I heard that was SO adorable, and it screamed Neteyam

“I’m telling you, that boy is obsessed! I’ve never seen someone pine over another so much,” Kiri laughed, giving you a playful shove.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. If he liked me as much as you said, he would’ve said something already,” you playfully rolled your eyes, waving your friend off.

You two had just finished healing lessons with Mo’at, and were now on your way back to the Sully tent to hang out with the boys.

Kiri was swearing up and down that the feelings you had for Neteyam were very valid and very mutual, but you weren’t buying it.

Neteyam was a warrior, a Sully, a future Olo’eyktan.

You were just a simple girl who wanted to become a simple healer.

In your eyes, there was nothing special about you. You weren’t the best hunter, singer, or dancer.

So why would he ever like you?

A romantic relationship with Neteyam was a pipe dream. And to keep from getting hurt, you reminded yourself of this fact over and over again.

 “Well, my brother may not look it, but he’s an idiot. And a shy one at that. But that shyness and idiocy is alllll for you,” Kiri teased, giving you a few pokes in the stomach.

“Quit it!” you laughed, frantically shoving her hands away.

That was your tickle spot.

“You’re crazy! I could never say that!” a familiar voice exclaimed from inside a nearby tent.

You and Kiri quieted your giggles, turning to each other in confusion before moving closer to the home, peeking through a small tear.

“Shut it! Do you want the whole clan to hear?!” Lo’ak harshly whispered, shushing his older brother.

Neteyam.

“I’m sorry, but that’s far too bold. I’ll scare her away,” Neteyam dismissed, resting his hands on his knees, which were sat criss-cross.

Her?

You felt a piece of your heart break, and tears well in your eyes.

They were talking about a girl. One who Neteyam seemed fond of.

“We should go. It’s rude to listen in,” you whispered, your voice small and slightly broken.

Why were you feeling this way?

A lump in your throat seemed to grow larger and larger every time his words replayed in your head.

You had tried to push away your feelings, but at the first mention of another girl, it was made perfectly clear that you could not hide emotions so intense.

And Kiri was quick to pick up on this.

“Now hold on a minute. Let’s hear the rest,” she held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Little did the two of you know, Lo’ak had heard every word you said, and was now going to make it his mission to put on a show for Neteyam’s girl outside.

He knew his brother was a painful over-thinker, and would never make the first move on you.

So why not give him a little push?

“Okay, so what do you want to tell her then?” Lo’ak started again with a sigh, giving his brother tired eyes.

Neteyam groaned, raking a nervous hand through his braids. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Girls love compliments. So you gotta compliment her. Tell me a feature of (y/n)’s you like,” Lo’ak smiled, hopefully talking loud enough so you could hear

“Her eyes. They’re so big and beautiful, and have such a pretty, yellow color to them. I want to tell her this, but how should I?” Neteyam asked again.

“Just say it, bro. Walk up to her, flash her a nice smile, then say, Hey, (y/n). Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Lo’ak demonstrated, making a Neteyam face at the last part.

You blushed so hard you thought you might burst.

Neteyam felt this way...about you?

“See, there you go again. You may be able to say that, but I cannot. I do not......I do not have your confidence,” Neteyam looked down at himself, hanging his head.

This was pathetic.

He needed to get help from his baby brother in order to talk to you.

He had faced his Iknimaya, Sky People, even his angry dad. But talking to you was scarier than all of those three things combined.

Lo’ak gasped, abruptly standing up from his seat. “You have loads to be confident about, bro! Just look at you.”

He smirked, walking over to his brother and giving him a firm pat on the back.

“You’re a strong warrior, a skilled hunter, and a killer with a bow and arrow. Not to mention you have the devilishly good looks of us Sully men. You’re the whole package, dude.”

Neteyam slightly smiled, thankful for his brother’s praise, but still on the fence about all this.

Lo’ak sighed, sitting down in front of the nervous boy.

“Let’s try something else. Why don’t you tell me what you like about her face? Her lips? Her hair? The way she braids her hair? What about-?” “I love all of it, okay!” Neteyam interrupted, unable to take this anymore. 

“I can’t pick one thing to like because they all are perfect to me. She is perfect to me. But I cannot just walk up to her and tell her this because what if she does not feel the same. I’d have poured my heart out, only for it to spill on the floor.”

Damn. 

Lo’ak had no idea his brother could be so poetic.

Sure, it would make him want to barf if anyone else had said it. But this was his brother, and he was happy for him.

Lo’ak smirked, realizing the trap he just led Neteyam in and giving his mental self a high-five.

Mission Accomplished.

Meanwhile, you were practically about to faint.

Your long time crush had just professed his love for you loud and proud.

And while you were over the moon with this news, Kiri’s I told you so face was starting to get on your nerves.

“C’mon. Let’s go before we get caught,” you whispered, getting ready to tip-toe away.

“You ladies can come in now!” Lo’ak cockily announced, you and Neteyam turning as pale as ghosts.

Shit.

...

taglist !!

@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13

[joeyalohadream]

drabble request: bucky coming back from a night at the officers club and finding buck curled up in bed wearing his sheepskin to help him fall asleep 🥹

Sorry it took so long to get to this! Thanks for the idea anon, I love it! Hope you enjoy reading it too!

Word Count: 1,685 (some softness below the cut)

The air had a slight chill to it, the breeze reminding Bucky that Autumn was fading, and Winter was creeping up on them. He runs warm and the whiskey he’s consumed this evening does well to protect him from the worst of it, so he finds himself mostly content as he stands outside the Officer’s Club to finish the cigarette he’d come out to smoke.

The night was going well. The mission the boys had returned from earlier in the day had been a success in all the ways that mattered. They’d hit their targets and somehow, miraculously, not one fort had gone down. Some of the crews were busted up, but no one had required a trip to the infirmary, so it was a win in his book.

Bucky new better than to have hope that their next mission would end with the same statistics, but the success had motivated the boys and they’d all wanted to ride the good feeling into the night. He hadn’t been up in the air for this one, left off the rotation this time around, and the anxiety and fear that had gripped him all day was finally fully gone.

He had felt the need to join the boys in the revelry. He wasn’t with them up in the air today, but he could sure as hell be with them now and help show them a good time. As usual, Gale had agreed to accompany him, always willing to show his face and set a good example for the men, despite his preference for less crowded venues and less lively crowds.

Bucky turned his gaze to the door that swung outwards to his left, expecting Curt or another fellow smoker, but was happy when he saw Gale stepping out into the night and making his way towards him. He was always the happiest to see Gale.

“Finally decide to find a vice?” Bucky joked, holding his cigarette out towards Gale and laughing when Gale swatted his hand away as he finally stopped within arm’s reach of him.

“Already found one of those,” Gale said back, looking pointedly at Bucky, eyes playful.

Bucky laughed again, feeling even warmer now.

“And you’ll find that this particular vice you’ve got is one that’s impossible to shake,” Bucky grins at him. “You’re probably gonna be stuck with it for life.”

Gale nods, face a mockery of serious contemplation before he sighs and gives Bucky a small smile. “I think I can live with that.”

Bucky smiles back and takes another drag of his cigarette. He watches as Gale crosses his arms and rocks slightly on his heels. He runs cold where Bucky runs warm and he seems to have a harder time shaking the cold from the high altitude after missions than everyone else.

“So, what brings you out in the cold,” Bucky asks, “Miss me already?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gale chuckles. “I made my rounds, saw all the men. Think I’m calling it a night.”

Bucky’s about to whine, throw out his usual protest for when Gale turns in early, but then he really looks at Gale. He sees the shadows under his eyes, the small cut along his jaw he’d received during the mission but couldn’t recall when or how, sees the slight shake to his shoulders. He tosses his cigarette away and turns to face him fully.

“You’re alright though?” He wants to reach out and cup his jaw, run his finger over the reddened skin. “You’re not hurting, are you?”

Gale’s eyes are full of affection when he meets his and a smile is tugging at his lips.

“Sore, the usual. You know that well as I do,” Gale tells him, and Bucky does know, it’s true. “I ain’t hurtin’ and I’m fine. Just tired.” His smile turns a little sheepish. “And cold.”

“Well, what a surprise,” Bucky teases. “Gotta get you a thinker coat, maybe one like mine. Wearing that puppy is like being wrapped in a warm hug.”

“You know I hate that jacket,” Gale huffs out. “And I’d rather just have the real thing than something like it.”

It takes a moment for Bucky to realize what Gale was saying, but when he does his heart gives an embarrassing flutter. He looks around and decides to take the risk, steps forward and wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders. Gale doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his waist, face burrowing into his neck.

“Wish we could do this all night,” Gale breathes into his collarbone and Bucky rubs a hand up and down his back. He knows that Gale means he wishes they could sleep like this, in each other’s arms and he wishes for it too. But they live in a barracks with 10 other men and it’s a risk they won’t dare to take. One day, Bucky thinks.

“Me too,” Bucky breathes into his hair. He feels the arms around him tighten for a moment before Gale pulls away and Bucky lets him go, even though he wants to do the opposite.

He sees Gale shiver and shove his hands into his pockets, and he just wants to hold him again. Knows he shouldn’t, knows he can’t.

“I’ll walk you back,” Bucky offers, not wanting to ever let Gale out of his sight. The memory from this morning of watching him disappear into the clouds, not knowing if he’d ever pop back out of them threatens to overwhelm him so he pushes it aside. Slams it back into the box in his mind.

“No way,” Gale laughs. “Curt was already hollering in there about you playing cards next round. I think he’s got money on you, Bucky.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky tells him and means it.

Gale smiles at him, fondness in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But the guys aren’t done having fun with the life of the party and I know you’ll have a good time sticking the evening out with them.”

Bucky wants to protest, wants to remind Gale that there isn’t anywhere he’d rather be than with him, anyone he’d rather be with than him. But he knows Gale is right. He’d told his table of card sharks that he was just stepping out for a smoke and they were all expecting him back. They were having fun, in large part due to his boisterous behavior and he’d set out to give them a night like this. He’d stick to his plan, no matter how much he’d rather walk Gale back and watch him fall asleep.

“Alright,” Bucky relents. “But know that while my body is here at the club, my heart is with you in your bunk.” He tells him dramatically with a hand over his heart.

Gale shoves him away with a laugh and an exasperated, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Makes you smile though,” Bucky points out with a grin.

“I’ll see in the morning,” Gale ignores his words, even though he’s still smiling. “Goodnight John.”

“Night Buck.”

Bucky lights another cigarette just so he can stay outside and watch him walk away until he disappears in the darkness.

----

Bucky’s hands feel clumsy as he tries to unknot his tie, stumbling through the door to the barracks. He hears Crank and Curt laughing at him, but their footsteps are no steadier than his. He makes an exaggerated shushing noise and gestures in the direction of his and Gale’s cots at the far end of the room. The other men roll their eyes but quiet down as they all make their way to their own racks.

It was a good night. All the boys left the Officer’s Club in even better spirits than when they’d entered, he’d won Curt a good chunk of change winning at cards, and he was pleasantly drunk on good whiskey.

He throws his tie on his cot and sits on the edge to start the fumbling process of getting his shoes untied, wishing Gale was awake to help him. The thought brings his focus to the cot directly across from his and he feels light and airy all of a sudden.

Gale is sleeping in his usual position, turned on his side, slightly bent, one hand under his pillow, the other pillowed under his cheek. He looks so soft and sweet, and Bucky wants to join him, spoon him, hold him and it hurts that he can’t.

He toes off his shoes and stands to unbutton his shirt and remove his belt, eyes still on Gale’s sleeping form. He pauses his movements as he notices a familiar cream-colored bit of fluff tucked under Gale’s chin. When he looks to the hooks along the wall they use to hang their things and prevent wrinkles, he notices his sheepskin is missing from its usual spot.

On silent socked feet he moves the two steps it takes to reach the edge of Gale’s cot and reaches out to grab the Army green wool blanket draped over him. A small, careful lift reveals a sight that warms Bucky’s heart more than all the sunshine and whiskey in the world ever could.

Gale has Bucky’s sheepskin, the jacket he supposedly hates, wrapped around his torso and shoulders, the fur of the collar tucked tight under his chin. He takes a moment to just look, thankful its dark as he knows the expression on his face is one of lovesick adoration.

He imagines Gale coming back from the club tonight, shivering and tired and alone. Imagines him grabbing the sheepskin and tucking himself into it before covering the evidence with the rough wool. Imagines he was probably embarrassed about it, maybe his cheeks even flushed when he decided to do it. He wishes he’d been here to see it.

Bucky hopes his words rang true and that his jacket feels like a warm hug to Gale.

Gently, he replaces the wool blanket, hiding Gale’s stolen object of comfort from any potential prying eyes. He runs his hand gently through Gale’s hair, wishes he could replace the jacket with himself and feels sad that he can’t.  

[moonmunson]

either way / no doubt

a/n: either way and no doubt by Odie Leigh have been on repeat currently and I relate to them so heavily so I word vomited on a Google docs. its a little rushed but oh well LMAO (I'm also always writing with a plus sized reader in mind)

cw: over thinker fem!reader, autistic coded reader, not knowing how to enter into a first serious relationship, kind lover boy!Eddie, no use of y/n

wc: 2.1k

It is the beginning of Spring when she meets Eddie Munson. Genuinely meets him, not just sees him around town and wonders what it’s like to be in his orbit. Working at the local diner, she sees him and his group of friends often. She’s served them a couple times, and they’re always respectful - albeit rambunctious. They tip well, stack their dishes for the busboys to clear, wave to her on the way out. 

It’s the day Eddie comes in by himself that marks it as different, new. He sits in her section of the diner, glances her way and then averts his gaze when she meets it. That’s odd, but she doesn’t think much else of it. Not until the end of his meal - consisting of a solitary cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie - does he stop her when she checks to see if he needs anything. 

He asks if she’d want to hang out sometime, and she laughs - a forced exhale of nerves. He asks why she’s laughing, and she doesn’t know what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, she relents and shrugs. What would we do? He says anything she wants. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to do? He says they’ll figure it out together. 

They end up sitting in the back of Eddie’s van, the open doors facing Lover’s Lake. She’s fidgety, and stumbling over her words. He keeps staring at her when she talks and she’s not used to anybody doing this much work to stay focused on her and what she has to say, especially because she’s not saying much of substance. He asks her so many questions, and mundane ones at that. How are classes at the community college? What’s your major? She answers as best she can. 

The feeling of someone looking at her makes her skin crawl. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she’s uncomfortably aware of the position of her nose on her face, which seems incredibly silly, and then she’s thinking about just how silly that is when he asks her if she’s alright. 

“Sorry?”

“I was just asking if you felt alright. It looked like you went away for a second there,” Eddie ducks his head down to catch her line of sight. Eye contact has always been difficult for her, but this is different - warm - like sunshine. “I know I’m not the most exciting person to talk to, but I hope you’re having a good time. I enjoy talking to you.” 

“I’m here, sorry. I like talking to you too.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay.”

“Sorry. Oh-” She sucks in a breath and places her hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the realization of her mistake. He giggles, a sweet boyish sound, and it warms his face. She thinks she could love that face, if he let her. If she knew how. She laughs too, despite herself. “It’s a bad habit. I really have to stop apologizing so much.” 

He’s still smiling when he says it’s okay, he understands. 

Later, when he drops her off at her apartment, the sun has gone down. The ride he’d offered her is relatively quiet. It’s a strange thing, to see the way someone adjusts themself around you. The usual loud heavy metal is absent here. The fast driving and sharp turns are traded in for complying with the speed limit, graceful steering and soft brakes. When he looks at her, she directs her gaze out the window - when she looks at him, he is focused on the road. 

He stops her as she takes off her seatbelt and goes to open the door, jumping out of his own and running around the front of the van to open it for her. She leads him to her front door, and he asks if he can see her again, if he can have her number. She nods, and rummages around her purse for a few frantic seconds before finding her waitress notepad and pen. When she rips the page out that she’s written her number on and hands it to him, he clutches it to his chest and smiles.  

“I’ll call you when I get home, if that’s okay. Just to let you know I made it back safely.”

“And if I want to keep talking to you?”

“We can talk for as long as you want to.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie walks backwards for a few seconds, keeping his eyes locked on hers, paper still against his heart. By the time he’s made it back to his van, he lifts a hand up for a short wave goodbye, and turns to face the vehicle. 

Now or never. 

“Eddie?” In true Munson fashion, he whips around completely at the sound of her calling out to him. 

“Yeah, sweets?” 

“I just wanted to tell you I had a really nice time with you today. I can’t wait for you to call me later.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, needing to do something with her hands to offset the nausea brought about by her impulsive vulnerability. He smiles wider, if that’s even possible. 

“I’m glad you had a good time. I’ve been wanting to ask you out forever, Gareth and the guys kept busting my balls about it. I promise I’ll call when I get home.” 

She nods, her eyes tracking his steps as he makes it to his car. She watches him drive off. It feels so strange, this immediate wanting him to come back, wanting him to come inside and crawl into her brain. To know her fully. It scares her in a way she’s incredibly unused to. When she can’t hear the music blasting from his speakers anymore, she makes her way inside and slumps against the door for a few seconds. 

He does call when he gets home, and they talk until the sun rises. 

__

They spend the next few days talking on the phone. It’s easier like this, she thinks. She doesn’t have to worry about the way she looks when she’s thinking of something to say. She doesn’t have to avoid his white hot gaze, the way she can feel it trail over her face when she’s speaking. If he notices how much more she opens up to him when they’re not actively sitting next to each other, he doesn’t mention it. 

When they’re not on the phone, he clings to her brainspace like moss on a tree. She can’t stop thinking about him, to the point she’s worried she’s obsessing over something that isn’t there. He’d said he had a good time, he said he enjoyed talking to her, so why does it keep bothering  her so much? He feels safe. He does feel safe, but she’s not used to conversations with no expectations. No guise, no hidden agenda. If he notices the way she starts to pull away due to her overthinking, her sentences shorter and stunted, he doesn’t mention it. He carries on as usual, calling her to talk about what he’d done that day. It makes her smile. 

When he asks, unprompted, if he can see her again, she says yes. 

__

They go to the lake again. It is an early March morning, the last tendrils of Winter still grasping desperately for some kind of recognition against early Spring. He brings a blanket and hot cocoa for both of them, and she feels it in her chest - warm and sweet and chocolatey, like his eyes. It’s easier this time, talking to him. She spends less time worried about her posture and cadence - more time really listening to him speak and trying her hardest to maintain eye contact. 

The early morning breeze makes ripples on the otherwise still surface of the water. It’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. He’s so expressive when he speaks. She used to think he was careless, jumping on tables and riling up the people he knew didn’t like him. Seeing him up close like this, she realizes it’s kind of the opposite. It’s careful, planned, the way he uses his hands, his eyes. Even when he’s talking about a book he's read a million times, she feels like she's there among the scenery and characters he describes. It’s entirely captivating. She wants to be more like him. Carefully carefree. 

She’s never done this kind of thing - the relationship kind of thing. If that’s what this is, she has no idea how to traverse this new terrain. She can’t find her footing, she doesn’t know what the formula is, what the proper way to go about it looks like. She doesn’t think about sounding weird when she asks:

“What are we doing?” 

Eddie pauses mid sip, brings the cup back down to his lap. 

“Currently? Or like, with our lives?” He chuffs out a little laugh. Not in a teasing way, though it's hard for her to differentiate. “Because currently, from my perspective at least, I’m sitting in my van with a pretty girl talking about our favorite books. What I’m doing with my life is something a lot of people, including me, would really like to know.” 

Levity, she recognizes. 

“Sorry if it's a weird question, I just…” She trails off, breaking eye contact, looking at her hands in her lap. He scoots forward a bit, the side of his thigh touching hers as their legs dangle off the back of the van. He doesn’t push her to say anything, doesn’t acknowledge the unneeded apology, doesn’t fill the silence with his own voice.  He just waits, patiently. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sit this still. 

“I really like you, and I really like talking to you. I’ve never done anything like this,” She uses her pointer finger to gesture between the two of them, drawing a connecting line between their bodies, “I don’t know how to, if that makes sense. I’m not really a lot of people’s type, I guess.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie sets the cup down next to him and very gently takes her hand, locks their fingers together. When she raises her eyes to meet his, he continues. “There’s no rush, I mean it. You set the pace here, okay? I like you, like a lot. If all you wanna do is sit here and talk, I’m totally fine with that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, sweets.” 

“What if you find out how weird I am and decide you don’t want to talk to me anymore?” 

At this, Eddie relinquishes his grip on her hand, hops down from the lip of the back of the van, and stands in front of her. 

“Y’know who you’re talking to?” two thumbs pointed towards himself - eyebrows raised, mouth quirked in a goofy grin, “King of the freaks, misfits, and ne'er do wells. I don’t think you could scare me off, but you’re certainly welcome to try.” 

“So just… be myself?” She scrunches her face up - the idea of being genuine is almost totally foreign to her. 

“Be yourself!” 

“Ew. Yeah, alright, fine.” She sighs in resignation and shrugs a shoulder. Doesn’t think about how convincing he is, or how willing she was to drop some of her defenses. Carefully carefree. She can do it. 

They share a laugh, finishing their luke-warm cocoa together and talking until the sun is high in the sky and the temperature rises too high for them to ignore any longer. This time, the drive home is less quiet. She meets his gaze when he looks over at her from the driver’s seat, she hums along to the sound of the radio, it's nice. Comfortable. 

Just like last time, Eddie hastens to run around the van and open her door for her. He extends a hand to help her down and out, and they stay connected on the short journey to her apartment’s front door. Eddie watches while she digs the keys out of her purse, unlocking the door and leading the both of them inside for a drink. He kicks his shoes off by the welcome mat, and they look like they belong there. 

It is the beginning of Spring when Eddie Munson permanently plants himself in her life, a steadfast source of comfort and nourishment. It is hard for her, and it takes longer than most for her to truly open up. To show him all the nooks and crannies of her mind. He takes it all in stride - her overthinking, her quirks and neuroses. He shows her that it is entirely impossible to trust someone enough to take part in the watering and flowering - that it's not a weight she has to hold alone. She can bloom.

__

if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog!!

[stuckinthesun]

Left behind || Sanji x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and your boyfriend Sanji were separated at Dressrosa, and after almost two weeks you’re ready to finally see him again.

Heavy angst, established relationship, spoilers for dressrosa zou and wci, cheating??

wc - 1.1k

Defeating the Donquixote Family and destroying the Smile factory was a grueling task that separated your crew into two groups, and unfortunately, you and your boyfriend Sanji. It took some convincing for the blonde to leave you behind on Dressrosa, but after you promised to come back to him safely, as well as him screaming at your other male crew members to protect you, he reluctantly left for Zou with the others.

Now, almost two weeks later, you and the rest of your friends finally made it to Zou yourselves, and you couldn’t be happier. All you wanted was to see your boyfriend, hold him, kiss him, listen to his overabundance of compliments, and have a meal of his delicious cooking.

Of course, nothing could be simple for the Straw Hat crew.

After getting separated from Luffy, meeting the Minx tribe, and a tsunami-like wave from the Elephant cleaning its back, your group finally reached where the rest of your crew was.

Excitement thrummed under your skin, and anticipation made your heart beat wildly in your chest as you held yourself back from instantly breaking out into a sprint to find your lovecook the moment the gates opened.

“Guys!” You heard two familiar voices call out, and whipping your head around, you saw Nami and Chopper running toward you guys with tearful smiles, “You’re finally here!”

“Nami! Chopper!” Luffy and Usopp called out excitedly while Franky, Zoro, and Robin smiled in relief. You smiled too and waved at your friends, happy to know that they were safe and unharmed, but you couldn’t help but look around for familiar blonde hair.

You watched Chopper jump into Usopp’s arms, crying about how worried you all made him, making you all laugh and apologize. You were surprised when Nami dove into your arms rather than Luffy’s with tears in her eyes, and immediately, a sinking feeling weighed in your stomach.

“Nami?” You asked, voice trembling slightly when you looked over to see Chopper watching your exchange while crying, these tears holding more weight than his previous ones. The redhead let out a sob at the sound of her name, and you couldn’t help it as your arms began to shake around her.

“I’m sorry,” Nami whispered into your hair, her hold tightening as she sniffled.

“Where-” Your voice cracked, cutting you off as your eyes filled with tears, and you mimicked Nami, tightening your hold on her as well, “Where’s Sanji?”

Next to you, Chopper let out a choked sob, and you looked over to see him still in Usopp’s arms. You looked up at the snipper, and he gave you a mixed look of confused panic before Nami answered, “He left. Pirates working for Big Mom came for him and he went with them, only leaving a note behind.”

You felt the color drain from your face as you whipped your head around to face Nami’s, still tucked into your neck as she cried.

No.

No, he wouldn't. Sanji wouldn’t just leave. He wouldn’t leave you.

Not without a really good reason.

“Do you know why?” Robin asked before you could, always the quick thinker.

“They said-” Nami started but cut herself off with another sob before shaking her head, “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I don’t know how he could do this.

“Spit it out already!” Zoro snapped from behind you, and you heard a loud smack before Usopp began berating him for being insensitive.

“They said Big Mom had invited him to a tea party,” It was Chopper who continued explaining, now sitting on Franky's shoulders, “that was also his wedding ceremony to one of her daughters.”

Suddenly, you understood why Nami had wrapped you in a tight embrace to inform you of your boyfriend's absences. Your body went almost numb when Chopper's words registered to you, causing your knees to buckle, but the redhead was already there to hold you up.

“That makes no sense though!” Luffy yelled, always the first one to voice his frustrations when he didn’t understand something, “Sanji’s supposed to marry Y/N, not Big Mom’s daughter!”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re upset, Luffy!” Chopper chided, and the crew began to yell and bicker at each other from behind you. The sound faded away like white noise as your ears began to ring, and you stared ahead of you blankly, trying to focus on the feeling of Nami’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

His wedding ceremony.

His wedding ceremony to someone else.

You blinked the tears from your eyes before regaining your footing and gently began to push Nami away from you, “I’m going after him.”

The crew stopped their loud arguing to instead look at you and shout in unison, “What?!”

“Have you lost your mind?! You do remember who Big Mom is, right? She’s one of the four emperors of the sea!” Usopp screeched as he ran over to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you violently.

���I don’t care!” You snap, pushing the snipper off you and taking a step toward the gate you had just come in from, “This whole thing sounds weird and definitely something Sanji wouldn’t agree to unless he were forced. So I’m going to see for myself just what the fuck is going on!”

“Y/N,” Luffy spoke then, his voice dropping into his rare serious tone, making you look up at him to see his face holding a look of determination, “Of course, we’re going after him.”

Your eyes widen as you look at your captain, tears instantly clouding your vision again, grateful you weren’t going to be alone in going to get your boyfriend back. You nodded your head at Luffy, and he returned it with a cocky smirk.

“Hold on,” Robin interrupted, stepping forward and looking at Nami, “Why don’t you tell us everything that happened to the four of you, starting from the beginning.”

“Okay,” Nami nodded.

Just then, a loud, familiar screaming began making its way toward the gate, and when you looked over, you saw your last missing crewmate, Brook. The skeleton was sprinting like something was chasing him, with tears pouring from his eyesockets and his arms outstretched in front of him, “Guuuuuys! You’re all okay!”

“Brook!” You all greeted him, happy to see him again.

The crew was almost completely back together.

When Brook finally made it to the gate, he stopped in front of you and dropped to his knees, panting like he was out of breath despite not having lungs, “Y/N, Luffy, I’m so sorry about Sanji.”

“It’s okay, Brook,” You whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. The skeleton looked up at you with as much of a confused expression as a skeleton could have, and you gave him a sad smile, “I'm going to get him back, but I need you to tell us everything that happened first.”

Taglist - @simpfully-heartbroken @writing-fanics @aiaiaiaiiaiiaii

Part 2 will probably be a lot longer and a lot angstier 😅

[mamirhodessxox]

More Resident Evil Incorrect Quotes for my Bby’s <3

Leon: All snacks are gone.

Y/N: I AM LITERALLY RIGHT HERE?!

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Leon: My heart is guarded but like… very poorly. The kind of guards that would let 3 kids in a trench coat into an R rated movie.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Jill, watching Chris and Carlos fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt?

Leon, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other.

Jill: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three?

Chris: Leon.

Carlos: Leon.

Leon: Me.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Y/N: Yesterday, I overheard Wesker saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Ada replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Wesker: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Leon?

Leon: …I’m sorry.

Wesker: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Carlos, tearing up the room: Where are they?

Carlos, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children?

Carlos: Somebody moved my M&M's, and now I am going to start killing.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Luise: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Y/N: I have so much energy, I want to run a marathon or commit a crime... which should I do?

Leon: Please don’t get arrested.

Y/N: No promises! <3

Jill: Why not both? Get creative!

Y/N: Wonderful suggestion, thank you.

Leon: Please don’t encourage them, Jill.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Leon: So, according to my university, it is, quote, “my responsibility if there is an internet outage to contact the faculty and the department.”

Leon: Now, if you’re a critical thinker like me, you might be wondering one thing.

Leon: HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO EMAIL THE DEPARTMENT?!?!?!

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Chris, learning how to drive: What happens if I press the gas and the brake at the same time?

Y/N: The car takes a screenshot.

Wesker: Please pull over. I’m driving now.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Wesker: Y/N, we tried things your way.

Y/N: No, we didn't.

Wesker: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

Ada: Ah, yes. Here we have a beautiful couple...

Y/N: I really care about your feelings!

Leon: I really care about YOUR feelings!

Ada, turning their head: ...and then there's the disaster couple...

Jill: YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO ME INSTEAD OF BEING AT THE HOSPITAL!

Carlos: I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME AT THE HOSPITAL IF YOU STOPPED INSISTING ON FIGHTING EVERYONE WHO COMES WITHIN A FIVE FOOT RADIUS OF YOU!

🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷✨🌷

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @valkyrurx

[possiblyunhinged]

I’m sorry, but you can’t remove the context of class from any discourse about the riots in Southport last night. To remove it is to remove any desire to understand what is happening, and without understanding, there will be no resolution.

Working-class, disenfranchised men are being exploited by the likes of Tate, Robinson, and Farage and are galvanised into ‘righteous’ anger.

There’s nothing righteous about rage based on fallacy. I doubt any of these men could explain why they were there beyond little soundbites regurgitated into their mouths by Tate and co.

'We WaNt OuR cOuNtRy BaCk'... screamed by men whose country never has given two shits about them and will guzzle on any privately educated men who tell them what they want to hear... Free Thinkers who happen to all think the exact same...

The men last night throwing bricks at the police with alcohol in their hands were not mourning children. They are not concerned about the safety of women. They are scared little boys attempting to disguise themselves as men. They have no purpose, and I don’t say that to be cruel, but it’s obvious.

If a middle-class person were saying this, maybe I’d have an issue with it. However, we won’t fix this level of disenfranchisement by pretending that class isn’t the ruling factor in what is happening—and fundamentally, how working-class people are treated.

I grew up thinking that working-class people had each other’s backs and looked after those in need. The women who lived around me were the most selfless people I’ve ever met. It’s embarrassing to see what’s happening and how cruel and empty people are becoming. Immune to facts. Immune to others’ suffering.

Until the government actually makes changes to people’s quality of life, situations like this are going to get worse. And frankly, while I understand the responses from political figures, only speaking to these groups of people when things like this happen isn’t helpful.

Robinson, Tate, and Farage fill the silence that the government maintains towards working-class people.

Yet again, I know some will say, ‘No excuse’… Okay then, let’s remove context from everything and never try to understand why these things happen. Frankly, I’d like to live in a society capable of change and reason, not one more concerned with groups fighting to see who is the most virtuous.

Taylor Swift fans have raised over 200k for Alder Hey while these 'men' nurse a hangover.

[yorshie]

Señorita

Bayverse mikey x gn reader, sfw

“Gah, it’s no use.” You call, disappointed when once again your two left feet manage to trip each other up.

Mikey laughs when you stumble and catch yourself, his humor an infectious thing that brings a smile to your mouth even though inside your head you’re cursing at the once again missed cues.

“It’s ok, angel, you’re just thinking too much,” he tells you, hopping off the edge of the rooftop where he’d stayed since showing you the initial steps.

You frown, trying to move to the side so he’d have room to move, “no, I’m pretty sure you have to be thinking to remember the steps.” another side step to stay out of his way when he paused by the boombox to restart the song. “That’s gotta be an important part, remembering that.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely an over–thinker,” he accused gleefully, taking advantage of your immediate, high pitched noise of denial to close the distance between the two of you.

He sidled up to your side smooth as silk, taking both your raised hands in his before you could jerk out of his space. Like a planet caught in the sun’s orbit, your feet followed him before your mind could catch up, woodenly stepping in time as he led you around.

“You’re too tight,” he said softly, cheekily, placing your hands on his shoulders before dropping his to your hips, pulling slightly as he repeated the few easy motions.

You were flustered, you wanted to protest, but as with anything else that felt too close to an admission where your friend was concerned, you swallowed it back down, the word painful in your throat when it ran into the hiccuped breath that was caught right below your collar.

Your hands on his shoulders felt hot, sweaty, and you fought not to dig them into the more prominent scales when the pads of your fingers grazed them. Close, too close, too close for your heart and your peace of mind. Goosebumps chased down your arms, heat down your back, focusing too much on not locking up to hear the words he whispered into your hair.

He moved closer, plastron brushing your elbows, his hands not letting you pull away. The outside of his foot clipped the inside of your ankle as he tried to get you to widen one of your steps. He hummed, the sound low and contemplating, causing you to shiver, but when you looked up you could only see the look of concentration on his face, tongue peeking out as he stared at the way your hips and feet moved out of sync.

“You gotta feel the music, quit thinking.” Baby blues snuck a look up at your face, before he tugged you closer, “here, follow me-”

Your stomach brushed his plastron, and you finally succeeded in pulling away, sputtering and feeling nine kinds of foolish when he snagged one of your hands with his lightning fast ninja reflexes and tugged you right back.

“Alright, sorry, sorry, sunshine, too fast.” Before you could decipher what he meant by that, his hands enveloped yours again, pressing them to the middle scute on his plastron, right over that little heart that you’d wanted to touch for months.

“Just feel the music,” he said softly, thumbs rubbing over the little bones in your wrists before sliding up to your elbows. He lingered there, for a moment, while you were concentrating on not letting your hands wander too far from where he’d placed them, before dropping back to your waist. Wide, just a little bit warm, the calluses on his palms rasped against the little peek of skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“Song’s restarting, just follow my lead,” he told you in that same careful whisper, rolling your hips in his grip in a mimic of the roll you could feel happening under your hands, and-

And your mind blanked, relying completely on Mikey, allowing him to pull you around the makeshift dance floor as the music played and he softly sang the words into your hair.

Your breath caught, trembling high in your throat, before the smooth rub of his thumbs coiled into the heat under your skin, and you relaxed, just a touch, just enough to realize there was more than just the bass thrumming underneath your fingers.

A quick glance upwards, looking up through your lashes, confirmed that Mikey wasn’t watching where your feet were going, pupils wide enough to reflect your face as he met your gaze.

His hands squeezed, gently, at your waist, pulling you closer.

[lexxspark]

Mike Schmidt Blurb: Nails

Nightmare trope! Mike has a nightmare while you guys are in bed and you find the best way to soothe him back to sleep.

A/N : I can’t escape my roots, I always eat up the nightmare trope.

Tags: established relationship! Hurt/comfort of course and mike x caring!reader

not proofread🙌🏻

You lay in bed peacefully asleep until you hear faint whispers and whimpers coming from the man sleeping next to you. At first you don’t think anything of it. It’s only when you hear a quiet sob and then a whisper of your name do you realize what’s happening.

Your boyfriend of a few months, Mike, had a horrible past. His brother went missing and he carries the guilt with him every day, his parents passing away leaving his little sister and him all eachother had. You met by babysitting Abby while he worked, then you got closer sharing hearts to hearts and opening up to eachother. He was the shy type so it was surprising that he opened up to you, but he knew it felt right. After he got up the courage to take you on a nice date with your favorite flowers and a reservation at your favorite restaurant, it was only a matter of time before he was helping you carry your moving boxes into his bedroom.

You sat up and looked over to him, his eyes were closed but his brows were furrowed In concern and fear. He was also very tense, you placed your hand on his arm and you could feel him flexing and relaxing in his sleep. He was turned to the side away from you, curled up a bit. You rubbed his arm and said his name, comforting him that it was just a dream and reassuring him that you were right here.

Mike’s eyes shot open, his breath was ragged as he sat up and looked around the room, searching for you and rubbing his eyes.

“Mike, I’m right here. Hey, you okay? Everything’s alright now love it was just a dream.” You looked at him, your hand on his cheek bringing him to look at you.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His face was in his hands now, not wanting you to see him this way. Mike has always been riddled with nightmares and that was a part of him he was scared to share with you because he was an over thinker, worried you would grow tired of comforting him and you’d leave.

“Don’t be sorry. You know it happens, happens to me too. I’m right here through everything Mike you know that. I’m not going anywhere.” You grabbed his face gently for him to look at you. You rubbed small circles on his cheek with your thumb and he was reminded of you. Reminded of how much you cared for him and how he would do anything for you.

“Come lay back down with me?” Mike didn’t even respond he just wrapped his arms around you and you fell back into the bed, his head falling on your chest. In return you began playing with his hair to soothe him, not thinking much of it.

You heard a small whine come from him as he held you closer. You quickly asked him what was wrong and he said in almost a whisper, ”Baby your nails. Feels really, really nice.” You were confused for a moment until you remembered. You had gotten your nails done with Abby while Mike was at work. Just some simple long almond shape acrylics. You were using the tips of your nails to scratch mikes scalp and hair absentmindedly.

“Oh Mikey, I’m sorry.” you said gently.

“Nonono, don’t be sorry it’s so nice. It feels so good.” He said in response, that last sentence coming out in a whimper.

You laughed a bit before saying,”Anything to help you feel better baby. Sleep good for me okay?”

“I really love you.”

“I love you more Mike, you know that.”

And with that the two of you fell peacefully back to sleep. <3

A/n : thanks for reading! Happy holidays guys🗣️

[skibasyndrome]

🎃 Simon's kinktober fic masterpost 🍁

Soooo... since, despite all the factors slowing me down, I plan on pushing through with doing all the prompts I thought I should make a post to keep track of everything in one place

Day 1: Sit back and watch (I'm gonna dance for you) (masturbation & spit) “Have you never thought about it?” he asks, and Simon is about to chide him for avoiding a question with a follow-up-question, but Wille is pushing on.“I’m just curious,” he says, pointedly casual about it (Simon doesn’t buy it, Wille seldom feels ‘just’ anything, he’s a thinker, that man, sometimes to a fault). “I’ve never seen you do it.” And, as if he’s sensing the protest that’s about to come out of Simon’s mouth: “Without me fucking you, I mean.”

Day 2: Sharpen your teeth, sink into me (marks & biting) “Please,” is all he can muster, eyes squeezed shut against the threat of tears, of overwhelm, of having everything he tried to hold in come spilling out. Not now, he thinks, not yet. He needs more, needs Simon’s mouth and hands and body to coax the raw emotion out of him. Needs to feel it all before he can truly let go. Fingers digging into the skin of Simon’s back, into the straining muscles of his shoulder blades, he swallows again, forces his voice to form the words, broken fragments scattered for Simon to put back together. “Simon,” he breathes. ”Need you, please.”

Day 3: In silence, I'm yours (sound/staying quiet, hands & 69) “Shit,” he whispers, moves to pull away, but is stopped. Simon’s fingers quickly wrap around his wrist, keep it in place, keep it right there, right where it’s firmly pressed over Simon’s mouth. Wille just looks at his palm, then into Simon’s eyes. They’re wide, staring back up at Wille, glinting dangerously. And, for a moment, neither of them moves. It’s Simon who makes the first move, who now, after all, tugs Wille’s palm away from his face. His eyes are still intently boring into Wille’s and, god, Wille feels himself twitch inside of Simon at the sudden charge of the air around them. “Wanna try to make me?” Simon whispers, almost breathless now.

Day 4: Love the shape of your mouth (and the back of your head) (makeup, praise kink, oral sex, deepthroating and light dacryphilia) “You can’t keep saying that,” is all she says as she drops her head down and onto Simon’s stomach. He hears her let out a frustrated little noise into the fabric of his dress shirt, and he laughs, pointedly ignoring the way her proximity to his crotch is making him feel.She's laughing, too, that same carefree laugh that Simon’s been thinking about all evening. He puts a hand on the back of her head, stroking over her hair for a moment.“I mean it, though, Wille” he says, because he’s not going to let her deflect again. “You look stunning.”

Day 5: I've never met arms like yours (cockwarming & spooning) “You're hard,” Simon mumbles into Wille's forearm. Wille lets out a small laugh. “Yeah,” he admits apologetically, kissing the mole on the back of Simon's neck. A little begrudgingly, he removes his other arm from around Simon's middle to get it between them, so he can rearrange himself in his sweatpants. “Sorry.” But Simon's hand shoots up, keeping Wille's arm around him in place. “It's fine,” Simon says, then wiggles backwards a little until Wille is firmly lodged between Simon's body and the back of the couch. “Feels nice,” Simon hums and leans into him some more, pressing his ass against Wille’s erection.

Day 6: And the mirrors gon' fog tonight (mirror, hands, a little bit of praise) “Is this-,” Wille’s voice is hoarse, deep, sounds like he’s overcome with something that Simon can’t place. “Is this okay?” Simon only nods, meeting his eyes through the mirror, feeling a pang to his groin at the way he is forced to look up at him from this position. There’s a noticeable shift in Wille, his shoulders seem to get less tense, he seems to stop straining his neck quite as much. “Yeah?” is what Wille pushes out. Then, clearing his throat: “Do you like this?”

Day 7: One, two, three (Not only you and me) (threesome, first time [having a threesome], lapdance) And, so, Wille finds himself exactly where Nils promised he could relax for once, have a good time, calm down after all that stress of the past few months or maybe years. As it happens, that promised space of escapism has quickly shrunk down to a small seat, in the booth with Simon. Simon who was excited to find two fellow Swedes in a random Swiss town, who's in Verbier because his sister's friend invited the two of them to her family's holiday chalet, who's here, specifically, because he didn't want to intrude on girls’ night and because they don't have these kinds of parties in his hometown. And because he doesn’t really go to them in Stockholm, either, where he's currently studying at university. Simon who's got the prettiest head of curls Wille has ever seen, and the funniest laugh and whose lips look so pillowy and soft that - not that he'd admit it - it hit him like a punch to the gut to watch Nils kiss them on the dance floor a few minutes ago. Wille goes to Verbier with his friend Nils. They end up meeting Simon at a party.

Day 8: Body language say you wanna (semi-public sex, cruising, roleplay) “What’s your name anyways,” Wille mumbles, mouthing his way back up to the guy’s ear while he lets his hand reach out and wrap around his hard length. Wille wonders if he got him to this point or if the other guy had anything to do with it. Wille sincerely hopes this is all his doing. The man gasps, then lets out a short laugh. “Does it matter?” he asks, and Wille bites his earlobe. “You tell me,” Wille whispers back, overtaken by a new kind of fervor, now that he’s got the man in front of him like this, naked, needy, hard. He jerks his fist over him a couple times, reveling in the way his breathing picks up, in the way he bucks into his hand. “Do you want me to use it when I fuck you?” he adds, stepping closer, trying to open his own pants with one hand while applying more pressure to the other man’s cock.

Day 9: On the tip of my tongue, on the top of your thighs (1/2) (wax play, thighs, marks) “Are you okay? Does it still feel good?” He asks, instead of letting the emotion take over. He trails his fingers up along the outside of Wille’s thigh, relishing in the way he jumps a little. When he looks up again, he sees Wille nodding, head rustling the linen it’s resting on top of. Simon waits, drawing small circles into the outside of Wille’s thigh. He knows this can’t be easy, feels a little out of it himself and he’s not even the one lying there. After another moment, he hears Wille clear his throat. “So good,” he pushes out, breathless, a little hoarse, sounding stunningly overwhelmed. Warmth spreads inside of Simon’s chest.

Day 10: And if I searched a thousand miles I'd be dying to find (2/2) (intercrural sex, thighs, marks, oral sex) If that’s okay, Simon thinks and is a little too overrun with lust to laugh, but he definitely scoffs at the ridiculous notion that it wouldn’t be okay, that he’d be anything but absolutely fucking enthusiastic to fuck Wille any way he wants. And he should tell him, really, let him know that anything he could ever want they can talk about and Simon will be really fucking glad to try with him. Instead though, he postpones that, for later, after, when he’s not busy trying to keep a remnant of a rational thought in his mind at the view in front of him, of Wille lying, waiting for him, beautiful and breathing heavily and, fuck, grinding his hips against the mattress in tiny movements.

Day 11: My skin on your skin, again and again (frottage, cum play, fingers) So, technically, it would be more than a little unwise to have sex in these conditions. But Simon’s never been known to make smart choices, has always had a knack for impulsive decisions. So of course he’s perched on top of his friend now, of course he’s rutting his cock against Wille’s, skin gliding together easily with sweat and spit and whatever else. Of course he’s got his hand wrapped around both of them, trying to keep up a steady rhythm, trying to make this good for them, while Wille is being difficult in this stupidly perfect way of his.

Prompts below the cut

Prompts by the events blog:

Water

Desk

uniform/clothes/accessories

Mirror

Neck

Fireplace

marks/spots/freckles

Food

sound/staying quiet

Threesome

hands/feet

Oral sex

First time

Frottage

Worship

Toys

face-sitting/deep-throating

Masturbation

Multiple orgasms

Lap dance

Biting

(semi-)public sex

Anasyrma

Blindfold

ice/sensory play

Lingerie

Phone sex/sexting

Role-playing

Cum-play

thighs/intercrural

Dacryphilia

Edging

humiliation/praise kink

Wax play

bondage/handcuffs

Nipple clamps

dom/sub

choking/breathplay

Daddy kink

Spanking

Other prompts, sent in by tumblr users/anons:

Angry sex

Insecurity

inexperienced/experienced

Cozy

Praise

trying sth new

Toys

romantic get-away

[newtthetranswriter]

Could I request kuroo(haikyuu) x male reader where the reader is in the chess club and Kuroo is hopelessly in love with him and starts learning chess to have something in common with the reader who is awkward and standoffish but with every game karoo challenges him to they fall more and more in love

Love is a Chess Game

Word count: 2762

Paring: Tetsuro Kuroo x male! Reader

Summary: Kuroo has always been fascinated by Y/n, after learning that he was in the chess club, Kuroo sets out to try and learn more about his closed off crush.

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting. I’m sorry it took so long to get this out but I promise I made it the best I could. I hope you enjoy and have a happy pride month. And as alway remember to hydrate or diedrate. 

    It wasn’t common for Kuroo to be late for practice, he is the captain after all. But this time he had a question for his teacher about an assignment and so he didn’t leave when the bell rang. Having never been in the main building of the school after school was out, he never paid much attention to what other clubs meet after school and where. So imagine his surprise when he spots the guy he’s been crushing on, walking to one of the empty classrooms. 

    Curious as to what Y/n could be doing, Kuroo decided that since he was already late for practice, what's a couple extra minutes. So he, too, approached the classroom. Getting closer to the door he heard the unmistakable sounds of people talking and realized the room wasn’t actually empty. Without being seen, or so he thought, he poked his head through the small opening, observing what was happening. Quickly Kuroo realized that it was a meeting for the school's Chess club. 

    After his eyes took in the numerous chess boards set up, they were drawn to the person who unknowingly lured the Middle blocker to the room. There Y/n stood talking with one of his clubmates. Kuroo couldn’t help but stare at the unsuspecting boy, completely in awe. This was the first time Kuroo had seen Y/n talking openly with anyone, he normally sits away from people looking like he couldn’t care less about those around him. But here he was chatting and laughing like it was completely normal.

   Kuroo probably would have stood there for hours watching his crush, but sadly an obnoxious ringing came from his pocket. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, jumping away from the door hoping not to get caught. “What’s up?” He asked the person on the other end, not bothering to see who is calling him.

   “Where are you? Practice was supposed to start twenty minutes ago.” Surprisingly it was Kenma. 

   Checking the time he let out a sigh. “Shit sorry, got held up asking a teacher a few questions and lost track of time. I'll be there shortly.” He answered quickly. As he hung up the phone he didn’t fail to notice the grumbles in the background from presumably Yaku. Putting his phone back in his pocket he made up his mind. First he was going to go to practice so as to not incur the wrath of either Kenma or Yaku as he did not want to deal with either parties bitching. Second, he was going to spend as much of his free time as possible learning to play chess.

   After about two weeks of spending any moment not at school or practice, learning how to play chess, Kuroo decided it was time to put his new knowledge to the test. So he approached Y/n on their lunch break. 

   “Hey, Y//n I wanted to ask if you would be willing to play a game of chess with me?” He asked the quiet boy.

   Not even looking up from his food Y/n responded. “Why?” It was a simple one word response, but the tone of voice said he would rather do anything else.

   Kuroo was not expecting that, but being the quick thinker he is, recovered from his shock before speaking again. “I noticed you enjoy chess, and thought maybe you would like to play against a new opponent. Playing the same people over and over probably gets boring.” He hoped his explanation made sense, and didn’t make him sound like a fool. “And to make it more interesting we can make a bet out of it. Winner can ask the loser one question and the loser has to answer honestly.” Thinking one the spot, Kuroo silently wished that the friendly wager would entice Y/n into agreeing.

   After a moment of silence Y/n nodded. “Fine I’ll play, but not right now come by the Chess club after school we’ll do this.” With that he turned back to his food ignoring the massive grin that spread across Kuroo’s face.

  Walking back to his seat, Kuroo quickly texted the team’s group chat saying something came up and so he would likely be late to practice so they should just start without him. Of course he was met with a series of questions ranging from Lev asking innocently why, to Kenma telling him a date isn’t a reason to be late for practice if he can’t miss practice for a new video game. Kenma’s message was then met with even more confused questions. Deciding that he was done with the idiot squad Kuroo turned his phone off and tried to calm his excitement, wanting to focus on school and not over think his plans for the afternoon.

   After the bell rang, Kuroo made his way to the room where the Chess club met, barely hiding his excitement. When he entered the room he was greeted by the stares of confused chess players, wondering why the boys volleyball captain was in the chess room. Noticing Y/n wasn’t there yet, He stood by the door awkwardly hoping he wouldn’t have to wait long.

   His prayers were answered because not even two minutes later, Y/n entered the room. At first he didn’t notice the athlete, but as he approached his clubmates he noticed them taking glances at the door like something was wrong. Looking at the door, couldn’t hide his shock as he made eye contact with the tall Middle blocker awkwardly standing by the door.

   Once Kuroo realized Y/n had showed up, he made his way over. “So Y//n you ready for our game?” He asked as he took a seat across the stoic chess player.

   Receiving confused questions from the other’s in the room as to why he was playing a round of chess with someone on the volleyball team, Y/n sighed. “Yes Kuroo, let me just set the board up. As for you, peanut gallery, he asked to play so I decided to indulge his request.” The player explained as he began placing chess pieces on the board in front of him.

   After the board was set, the match began. Even with Y/n being a gentleman and letting Kuroo take the first move, it only took him 37 moves to beat the middle blocker. It didn’t really surprise anyone in the room, after all Y/n was one of the best players in the club.

   Accepting his loss Kuroo, reminded Y/n of their wager. “So, what’s your question you want answered?” Kuroo asked, believing it would probably be something that would likely embarrass him like ‘what is the dumbest thing he’s ever done?’. But he was left, shocked by the response he got.

   “The only thing I want to know is why did you decide to learn how to play chess?” Y/n wasn't trying to be mean or make fun of Kuroo, he honestly wanted to know.

   Getting over his shock, Kuroo thought for a moment. He could A) tell the truth that he did it to get to know Y/n or B) lie and say he just thought it looked interesting. Deciding that if he wanted this to all turn out well, he would have to be honest so he went for. “Honestly, I wanted to get to know you and when I saw that you were part of the chess club I figured it was a good opportunity to start.” He was just being honest, but for some reason the confidence he had while speaking amazed Y/n.

   Taking a moment to fully understand why Kuroo made the choice, Y/n decided to play along with Kuroo’s idea. “Well, if you want to get to know me you’ll have to beat me in a game so you can ask me a question.” This took everyone in the room by surprise. The awkward and standoffish Y/n was actually offering to let someone get to know him. “So Kuroo, if you are up for it, next week we will have a rematch.”

   Kuroo thought for a second before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it sounds like a plan.” After finishing his sentence, he felt his phone vibrate. Checking it, seeing a text from Yaku saying he was needed in the gym, Kuroo started to stand. “Well, it seems my own club is in need of their amazing captain so, I will see you around Y/n. And I will definitely be back next week for our rematch and I’m going to win.” finishing his sentence Kuroo closed the door to the room. Deciding to be slow about reaching the gym, for the soul purpose of quieting his giddy thoughts about getting to know Y/n more. 

The day before the rematch

   Kuroo had tried to tell the rest of the team that he would once again be late to practice,       without telling them why but a certain cat eyed setter decided to have some fun. “He’s going to play chess with his boyfriend.” Kenma announced to the group who was currently cleaning up the gym after practice.

   “He is not my boyfriend.” Kuroo said, trying to keep calm and not strangle the boy with two-toned hair.

   Yaku, not having a full understanding of what was happening, decided now was a great time to interrogate his friend. “So, the reason you showed up late to practice was to randomly play chess with some random guy? Am I understanding that correctly?” He asked, moving to stand next to Kenma.

   Before Kuroo could respond, Kenma responded more than happy to give his teammates ways to make fun of his best friend. “No, not some random guy. It was Y/n, he’s been in Kuroo’s class since middle school and he just now got the balls to talk to him.” While Kuroo wanted to argue and say Kenma had it wrong, he knew Kenma was telling the truth. After all he told Kenma all about his plan to learn to play chess and once he beats y/n in a game he’ll ask him out.

   “Anyway, I’m just letting you guys know so you don’t blow up my phone after two minutes of me not being here on time.” Kuroo said finishing up the last bit of cleaning that needed to be done for the night. He received a chorus of ‘yeah whatever’s and they all dropped the subject. Once they were sure the gym was clean they all headed home for the night.

   The next day like he promised Kuroo showed up at the Chess club ready for his rematch with Y/n. This time he waited outside not wanting to deal with the awkward stares of the other club members. After only a couple minutes he spotted y/n approaching the room.

   “Hello, Y/n how are you today?” He asked, hoping to start a conversation outside of their game.

   Y/n gave him a slight smile before covering it with his normal unreadable face. “I’m fine, but if you want to know more you have to beat me first.” He said, not missing the flash of shock across Kuroo’s face at how he was clearly making jokes at him. Y/n, then opened the door and usher Kuroo into the room. Taking a seat at the same table as last time Y/n began setting up for their game.

   Just like the week before Kuroo was unable to beat Y/n. “Since I stand victorious once again, it’s time for you to answer a question. Why do you want to get to know me? We’ve never really talked before so why now?” Y/n asked, not expecting much of an answer but figured he’d give it a try.

   Kuroo was startled by the question, but decided once again that if he wants to pursue anything with Y/n, he would have to be honest from the start. “I’ve admired you for a while. You always managed to get good grades since middle school and you never seem to let people get to you. I just wanted to know more about what makes you who you are.”

   It was now Y/n’s turn to be stunned. “Well that certainly wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Anyway, don't you have captain duties to get to, at your own club?” He asked the messy haired athlete. 

   Sighing, Kuroo stood up. Before leaving he turned to Y/n one last time for the day. “Same time next week, and this time I’ll be the one asking the question.” 

    Y/n had to quickly hide the stunned look on his face before nodding. Sure he had realized that Kuroo wasn’t the kind of guy to give up, but he wasn’t quite expecting such confidence from him. After Kuroo left, the Chess club went about business as usual. Well except their star player was getting lost in thought every time he wasn’t participating in a game.

Time skip to a month later

    After four more games Kuroo still hadn’t managed to beat Y/n in a single game of chess. But on the brightside the two had started interacting with each other outside of their now weekly chess matches. It wasn’t much but Y/n was letting Kuroo get to know him more without the caveat of winning a chess game. Knowing more about Y/n made Kuroo even more happy with his choice to learn chess.

    When it came time for their seventh game, it came to no one's surprise that Kuroo had shown up to the Chess club and set up the usual spot before Y/n even arrived. What did surprise everyone was the fact that Kuroo managed to get the upper hand. After a long back and forth Kuroo actually managed to beat Y/n for the first time. At first members of the chess club figured it had to be fluke and Y/n just made a mistake. But after going over the game in their heads, they quickly realized that Kuroo actually managed to outsmart the chess player.

   After over coming the shock of actually losing to Kuroo, Y/n raised his head looking to his opponent. “So Kurro, It seems it’s your turn to ask me a question.” Y/n prompted, expecting a question similar to ones he had asked in the past like ‘why play chess’ or ‘why did he agree to play chess against him?’ something like that. 

   There was just one thing Y/n seemed to forget he wasn’t playing chess against another chess player, he was playing against the captain of the Nekoma Volleyball team. This was a cunning and confident cat, Kuroo had been planning for this for weeks now. “Will you let me take you on a date?” It was straight to the point but Kuroo wanted to make it clear that he wanted to take Y/n on a date, not just them going and hanging out, but an actual date.’

   Everyone who was present in the room at that moment, froze. No one expected that to be the question Kuroo asked. After about a minute of silence though Kuroo’s confidence started to fade. As he was about to speak up and say it’s fine and that they can all just forget it happened, Y/n finally spoke. “I would love to go on a date with you Kuroo.” 

   It was Kuroo’s turn to freeze, of course this was the outcome he hoped for, but to actually hear it, his brain stopped working. Shaking the surprise from his mind, he couldn’t help but smile as he responded. “Great, I’ll text you the details and don’t worry about paying for anything. I asked you out so the first date is on me.” Y/n just chuckled and nodded in response. “Well, I guess I have to get to practice. Thank you for the game, and thank you for agreeing to go out with me.” Kuroo had to fight the urge to jump in excitement as he left the room. 

   Y/n on the other hand, now had to deal with the wave of questions his clubmates were now throwing at him. He wasn’t expecting that agreeing to a chess game with Volleyball player would lead to him going on a date with said volleyball player. But even if it was not the expected outcome, he was truly looking forward to it having grown to enjoy and look forward to spending time with the middle blocker.

[miss-eli-starfleet]

My critique of CW’S The Flash

The Flash is one of my absolute favourite shows, and I think it deserves one of these. Yes my favourite shows deserve critiques because there are changes I would’ve liked to see instead. This is all just my opinion on the show, not exactly hating it. Plus.. I saw someone else doing something similar to here goes.

Imma be clear at the start. I don’t hate WestAllen, just really really disappointed with how they were written in the latter seasons sometimes.

Props to every actor in the Flash who put all their effort into the show whether the script was cringe or not.

Season 1-2 was FIRE. No complaints. Loved the WestAllen.

Season 3 was good,

but I think they could’ve done Savitar better. Still liked him as the big bad being depressed/emo!Barry. I’ll say that I got really attached to Harry in S2 which made me wonder why they have HR there at all? The dude grew on me, and he added humour to the team, but honestly between him and Harry, it could’ve easily been Harry. Though it means he would die at the end.. so I’m glad Season 3 had HR Wells instead sorry not sorry.

The relationship between Julian Albert and Barry was so fun to watch. Which reminds me, LOVED Eobard’s appearance as Matt Letscher in 3x01. I have no idea why they continue to use Wells’ face like bruh. Your pretending as Wells is over so like why. GIMME MORE MATT!EOBARD.

I loved Frost???

Season 4 was also great.

I’d say more quality than season 3 because it was their first time against a big bad that WASN’T a speedster yet posed a more than adequate challenge to the team. The plot was nice and unique (I really loved Hazard!). I’ll say that DEVOE was kinda showing some red flags before becoming the Thinker in his relationship with Marlize, like he seemed kinda overly possessive of her. Glad that she switched to helping Team Flash after seeing what her husband had become. Loved her “Thinker’s first victim” line.

I felt like they started focusing on Cecile too much? Her role was vital to the plot at the end with helping Barry hop into Devoe’s mind to retrieve Ralph. And speaking of Ralph, I was neutral towards the character at first, but he grew on me. Also why fire him for sometning he did like 10yrs ago. That made no sense. I’d rather Ralph than more Cecile or Allegra.

LOVED ALL THE BANTER BETWEEN HARRY AND CISCO. And FROST FROST FROST!!! I liked her S4 outfit. I also think Barry’s supersuit was the best in this season.

One of my favourite episodes was “Flashtime”. Awesome awesome filler episode.

Season 5 was also great.

Barry’s supersuit was trash tho imo. He just looks like a weird deformed strawberry.

Above average but not quite as good as S4. LOVED NORA WORKING WITH THAWNE then Barry finding out and tossing her into the pipeline cell lol. Just the betrayal, and then dumping her in the middle of a random street in the future. Loved all the father-daughter moments she had with Barry. Cool to see the writers creativity in “meta-tech”.

However Iris.. bro in 5x19 she has some issues bringing up the fact Barry NEEDED to go into the Speedforce TWICE. And then her telling Barry to his face that she didn’t care that Nora was working with Thawne. Like bro, he murdered your husband’s mother and caused sm problems. And you don’t care about that?? Good to see that Barry called her out in the end.

Imma complain about freaking Sherloque again. Why not Harry? Even after what happened to him in S4, I think he could’ve figured out that Nora is secretly working with Thawne. Like dude’s still smart af.

Nora getting erased from existence at the very end.. sad :( I miss S5 Nora

Season 6.

I feel like this is when everything started going downhill. I didn’t care for Mirror Monarch. The mirror!Iris storyline was interesting to see. Idk what happened the rest of the season. That’s how much I didn’t care for this season lol. I think the other half was about Ramsey and how he wanted to make everyone zombies. Man I HATED Sue Dearborn or however you spell her name. She just took up too much screentime. This is when it started feeling like “Iris & Friends” instead of “The Flash”.

Liked to see how Barry dealt with slowly losing his speed bc he was killing the speedforce lol. Liked how the Caitlin/Frost duo became separate people. It was cool. At least we got that lol.

I think this is when Allegra comes in. I honestly can’t stand her. Like the whole her and her sister trope? Why.

The one thing I did like was Barry’s artificial speedforce gave him speed thinking. Awesome episode to watch. EXCEPT NASH. WHY. His sacrifice is useless in the end because of the whole “Iris is Barry’s lightning rod” thing. Have nothing about a speedster’s lightning rods in the comics, just didn’t like how that was written into the show. It eventually got really annoying.

Season 7.

Where do I even begin. This is when Barry’s “children” became a thing, and then suddenly speedforce!Nora wanting to kill all of them? Like what??? Where did that come from? Dion’s storyline was interesting. The rest were just.. Meh. And the CGI was so cringe.

I loved Abra Kadabra??? Why they gotta kill him off in one episode.

Does Chillblaine start coming in this season? I dislike him in general.

Season 8.

THIS IS WHEN BARRY’S ACTUAL CHILDREN COME BACK.

Now with Nora getting erased in S5, I really would’ve preferred if they gave us Tornado Twins instead. Like you can even use the same actors, but I honestly don’t really like the new Nora. I did like seeing her interaction between her and her family.

Also. Bart. I. Have. Major. Problems. I LOVE Bart but he is supposed to be Barry’s GRANDSON. Give us Don Allen instead. I did like the episode where they messed up the timeline, went back to 2013 and then accidentally reset Jay into the timeline. Also loved the episode with the whole Barry and the gamma radiation making him age hella fast. Bro was basically a zombie at the end and still overloaded the machine with the speedforce.

The. Stupid. Power Rangers godspeed arc was shit and them being Bart’s Thawne-like arch nemesis. Like boy, don’t compare Thawne with your godspeed problems. Don’t even start. Also what is with the “Negative Forces” and “Positive Forces” Power Rangers thing and then Iris’ time sickness? At this point, The Flash just started to feel like a soap opera.

I liked Chester even though he was a “replacement” for Cisco. He was unique. But the whole Allegra/Chester budding relationship where did that come from?? It just seemed very cringe and didn’t do much for the plot besides drama I guess. Khione was meh. Like just give us Caitlin with Frost in some way. I don’t care about Khione and her arc. Pls give us more Barry and not so much Cecile and Allegra.

Season 9

The show should just be renamed “Power Rangers: Iris & Friends” at this point. They made an entire episode without Barry?? Like if I pick up a Flash comic book, I expect it to be about THE FLASH. Not his random friends. Like yes, his friends can make appearances but don’t give me a whole dang episode without Barry THE MAIN CHARACTER. Also how the hell did Cecile become that OP, where is the character development.

Idk where Chillblaine comes in but I just don’t like him, not to mention that I don’t like the relationship between him and Frost. Like what.

Eddie’s Cobalt Blue arc and Red Death arc could’ve been done WAY better. I didn’t see any plot relevance in any way. It was written so poorly. Red Death was just like evil speedster!Batman or something. Please don’t bring our beloved Eddie back if you gonna write him all just jealous of Barry and him somehow becoming the new avatar of the Negative Speedforce. And what does Batwoman have anything to do with this (I believe she appears in the finale villains arc)l

There is legit only one episode I like in S9. The one that comes “full circle”. The one where Barry gets stuck in 2000, gets to chill with his parents for one day, and then comes full circle with Matt!Eobard killing Nora. SEASON 1 QUALITY. They even use the same bg music which awwww. And the “If I can spend one more day with my parents, then what would I say to them?” Line? Chef’s kiss.

Did not like the finale. His final run speech was okay about sharing his gift. Definitely would’ve preferred if Barry became the lightning bolt that struck him in S1 like in the comics.

Idk which episodes: Loved all the Amunet & Frost storyline, and then Goldface time to time appearances. Especially “Officer Chemist” lol.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

okay so i’m a huge over thinker, like my brain just doesn’t stop. lately i've been getting thoughts about my loved ones passing away, im just rlly afraid to lose the people i’m closest to. maybe something small of jj comforting the reader when she gets thoughts like that? <3

right in front of me

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!reader

warnings: thoughts of loved ones passing, pet names

summary: after noticing your change in mood, jj steps in to comfort you.

authors note: hi love! thank you for the request :)) i’m so sorry you’re feeling like that, but i truly hope you start to feel better <33

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you were currently cuddled against his chest on the couch, watching whatever movie was playing.

you weren’t paying attention.

but then again, how could you? its like the thoughts never stopped. your mind was way too active and it never seemed to stop coming up with new negativity to leave you overthinking to the max.

you hated when it happened. it was often something new which then added to the bad thoughts as a whole.

and right now, you were at one of your lowest.

you began to think. you hadn’t checked in on your parents in a while. maybe you should? maybe you should text them right now, just incase. after all, you never really know how much time you have left with them.

maybe while you’re at it, text your aunt and uncle. you haven’t talked to them in a while. are they even okay?

the urge to grab your phone right now was beginning to eat away at you. you should really text them. what if something happens and you didn’t get to say one last ‘i love you’? maybe you can just—

“hey,” jj interrupted your thoughts, bright blue eyes searching yours. “i lost you there for a minute, sweetheart.”

oh.

what if you lose jj? what if he loses you? what if—

“what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked curiously.

you just shook you head. “nothing.”

“really? cause you were zoned out for a good 5 minutes,” he replied. “c’mon, sweetheart. what’s wrong?”

you felt like you were going to cry. “you know,” you shrugged. “just same old, same old.”

he reached for the remote to pause it before wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “it’s just thoughts, baby. they’re not real. you’re not gonna lose ‘em anytime soon,” he said. “and i can promise you i’m not goin’ anywhere.”’

you sighed and buried your head into his shoulder. “you don’t know that though.”

he leaned his cheek against your head. “maybe. but still, you gotta just enjoy the time you have with them now, you know, think of the memories. and i know it’s not easy, but distract yourself so you don’t have the time to think like that. besides, you know your family does the best they can to stay healthy.”

“i don’t know how to distract myself though,” you said, muffled against his shirt. “my mind just always wanders.”

“well,” he began. “i can think of a few ways to distract you.”

you smacked his chest. but then again, you couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. “you’re so stupid.”

“i know. but that’s why you love me,” he said with a big cheesy grin.

and just like that, with your boyfriends stupid humor, you were distracted for a little.