#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.

[specialgumsock]

//SDV Bachelor's and how they would react to you wanting to be FWB with them// NSFW(kinda…) MDNI !!!

Warnings: Mentions of nsfw, no descriptions. Maybe bad writing, idk I’m tired and I’m sorry if you hate it.

Characters: Alex, Sebastian, Sam, Shane and Harvey. (Sorry elliot lovers! we all know he is too romantic for that, otherwise I would’ve added him.)

Alex would love the idea of friends with benefits, but hate the reality of it. Moreover, the fact that you’re not… Well, his.

Usually, Alex would never even dream about going to the saloon on Fridays, but one day after finding out you would be hanging out with Sebastian and his friends there that night, he his jealously consumed him, therefore causing him to go in. Not trying to make it completely obvious that he was following you-

"Alex! It’s a surprise to see you here, can I get you anything?" Emily seemed surprised to see her sister's longtime best friend, who normally seemed appalled being around a bunch of drunks, enter the establishment. "I- er, no. Just… hanging out." He says hushed, but his focus stays following you. Emily lets out a laugh. "Well, if you do need anything I’ll be over here." She shrugged, and walked back to clean out whatever dishes were left. Alex turns and shifts his whole body towards the back, where you and Sebastian were hanging out. Along with Sam and Abigail, of course. Later in the night, he hangs outside the saloon right by Dusty’s cage, and you catch him on the way out. Ultimately, he tells you the FWB thing isn’t working out and asks you on an actual date.

Sam is not too thrilled to just be friends, but he sees this as one step closer in his plan.

Sam has ADHD, he is an over thinker and an over planner. Ever since he discovered his crush on you, he made out an entire plan to make you his- Which fell apart one night when you unexpectedly, and drunkenly pulled him into a kiss at a concert. Which is fine, he can go with the flow… but your flow apparently means just friends with benefits. It’s a sticky situation, no pun intended, but the blond has found himself in worse. So he’ll probably wait around like a lost dog for you, always wounding up at your doorstep in hopes you would want him for more than sex <\3 

Sebastian is cool with it.

He probably understands where you’re coming from, and doesn’t want to leave roots in the valley since he’s planning to leave one day. Yet, he’s also a horny loner so FWB works great for him. You call? He’s at your door, already unbuckling his pants lmao. But he will probably grow attached anyway, calling just to hear your voice. But if you decide to break things off completely, he won’t fight you. He’ll just deal with the pain of it in silence.

Shane suggested it, let’s be real. LMAO.

You guys were both incredibly drunk at his house and hooked up, the next morning was extremely awkward for you two. "Uh- listen, I wouldn’t be… uh, all that great of a boyfriend, let’s just keep this… friendly?" The words took a minute for you to process, considering your feelings for the middle aged drunk. And also you’re incredibly hungover. "Yeah, of course!" You smile, causing him to let out a sigh of relief.

But, it didn’t end there. You two kept "accidentally" hooking up, and well, eventually you’ve grown tired of it- finding yourself in a similar situation to Marnie. You decide to go out on a date with someone new, a date that Shane would inevitably find out about, and show up to your house that night.

"Oh! Shane…" You opened the door, fully dressed up and headed towards the saloon.

"We need to talk."

You step aside and let him walk in. "Listen, shane-" he interrupted you with a kiss, then slowly pulls away, his hands clinging onto your upper arms.

"I know I can’t be an amazing boyfriend, or even guy… but if you give me a chance, I’m willing to try for you."

All that to say… FWB doesn’t work out with him.

Harvey doesn’t get it.

Regardless on if you explain it to him or not, he’s still asking you on dates.

You two just get done going at it, and he’s buttoning up his shirt- "So, what are you doing later? Let’s have dinner-"

Yeah, at that point you two are just dating, but it’s okay because I love him.

( I wish I could’ve made Sam's longer, he’s my husband<<<3 , also hope that you liked!!)



[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 !!

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[pawpiefawn]

𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ alhaitham x reader 2.5k words five acts of love, where alhaitham loves you more with each. reupload + edited from my previous blog. thank u coco for reminding me :"

ask around the bustling hub of sumeru city, and the native dreamers would often describe being loved as something mesmerising and captivating. it is much like a kaleidoscope, twisting and turning enchantingly in hopes that the beads would fall perfectly in place, but it never always truly does; endearing and a lesson for the lovers all the same. the messy beads twirl and turn but there is just some reason why they can’t get enough of it.

the thinkers talk about love like an anchor dragging you further and deeper down into the depths of adoration and affection and infatuation; to them, there are often few clear differentiations between sinking into love and drowning in it.

but for alhaitham, however – love is natural, like the cycle of growth of the dainty flowers and wild grass beneath his feet. a swanlike, enchanting piece of music that flows from your violin’s bow – with the right person, it is as natural as breathing.

but for alhaitham, however – love is also... unnatural, given his lack of experience. he has adoring fans, he has scholars singing his praises and piles of handwritten letters from secret admirers commending his mind and aesthete – but he has never loved before, not until you.

the first act of love. listening, when nobody else will try to.

alhaitham is a wonderful listener. if you ask him, he’d say that he prefers listening, even – he is content to hear all that you have to say, however nonsensical or ridiculous you sound to others. the scribe’s work is simple, so he never truly minds – to sit quietly with a small smile on his face while you talk his ear off about anything and everything – that is what love is, you are sure.

“hey, i’m sorry.. this is just too much right now.” you know they use this as a replacement for you.

“could you tell me another time?” another time will never come.

“just keep quiet, archons! do you ever shut up?” no, i’m sorry. i probably should.

alhaitham watches from his office as your heart breaks with every unwilling individual, each choosing to walk away while you tore your heart out, still bleeding from your ribcage while laying the offering bare at their feet. how could a human being be so cruel? there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ – yet you believe you cannot make it speak because they do not choose to listen.

“...i believe you hadn’t quite finished your story from the last time we met.” he speaks plainly, eyes glistening – with pity or with eagerness is something you don’t wish to distinguish. let it be the same, lest the heartbreaking realisation that he is just like the others.

“you remember?” you ask cautiously. please do, i can’t bear to beg anyone anymore.

“i do. that day about your old neighbour’s dog escaping into your garden. you’re welcome to continue, if you’d like.”

he watches your eyes light up as you trip and stumble over your words, quietly surprised and eager to please. there is a soft feeling in his chest – a warm, weighing feeling nestled in his ribcage.

the second act of love. remembering, when it feels like no one else does.

it is no secret that alhaitham’s mind is incredible. highly intelligent, closely observant, adept at noticing discrepancies – any researcher would fight to have him take a spot on their team. he is good at remembering, you think to yourself – alhaitham remembers everything – the things you’d grovel at someone’s feet, to remember the slightest thing about you, for, and everything you wished the world forgot. him remembering everything is incredible – whether that be a good thing, or not; is another.

“when’s your birthday again?” your co-worker taps his fingers against his chin, looking through the sheet of office birthdays.

“it’s–”

“december 26th.” alhaitham walks past, not looking up from his notebook.

you and your co-worker stare in silence. he...

“yeah, december 26th...” you catch a glimpse of the silver-haired scribe around the corner. he remembered. even if it was just an offhand comment about how funny you found your birthday to be right after christmas. he remembered.

“huh.” your co-worker shrugs it off, noting it down on the list as if nothing happened.

something happened. you feel something warm blossoming in your chest – warm, comforting, lovely all the same. a tender, sweet feeling like the heavy blanket on a rainy day that attempts to capture your heart in your throat and keep it captive forever; there is so much you want to say to alhaitham. it’s nice that he remembers – out of all your friends ( was he a friend? ), who could confidently say the date without thinking twice?

“i believe those are nuts. if i recall correctly, aren’t you allergic?” the next time you see a glimpse of his silver hair, alhaitham peers into your bowl of noodles. nuts – how comical it is to think that such a small, minuscule digit could potentially cut off breathing for you.

“i thought i told them ... perhaps i didn’t.” you mumble, hurriedly spitting out half-chewed food into your tissue. you stare tiredly into your bowl – surely you remember letting the waiter know that you had an allergy.

“you did.”

before you could even turn your head to reply to his reassurance, alhaitham flags down the same, tired waiter. he trudges to your table, serving tray tucked between his arm and body.

“can i be of service?”

“excuse me, i believe we mentioned earlier that they couldn’t have nuts.” alhaitham stares at him in the eye, glancing briefly at your bowl with spat-out nuts beside it. the waiter grabs it, letting out a soft sigh of frustration.

“you are a service professional, are you not?” alhaitham interrupts the languid movement; yet he does not break the stare.

“sir, i am just a wa–”

“my apologies. are you are a paid member of this establishment?”

“i am.” the waiter nods in quiet submission. it is better to shut up than to argue with a man who loves.

“you understand the laws regarding a customer’s health and safety, do you not? even if it’s tiresome, if they had gone into an anaphylactic shock here in your cafe, i believe it would have been a matter of time before an investigation is launched and a lawsuit is filed.”

you hear alhaitham soften at the word they. they. you. you are important enough to him that he’d quietly, but fiercely rip into the waiter over your allergy. (alhaitham wishes you felt important enough to care about your health instead of apologising for not speaking loud enough.)

the waiter steels himself and takes your bowl back to the kitchen without another word.

“thank you,” you turn to alhaitham. “that meant a lot.”

you show him a soft smile, and alhaitham feels a wave of silent thankfulness wash over himself – that you sit before him, wearing a bright and sweet smile and not a pained grimace from struggling to breathe, on your features. he feels the same warmth in his chest once again.

“you don’t need to thank me.”

alhaitham remembers, even when it feels like no one else does.

the third act of love. holding, when your skin feels achingly colder.

alhaitham does not strike people as a touchy person; his love language is not physical touch. touch scares him a little, even. the thought that a simple loving gesture could be twisted and morphed into a threatening hold scares even the most intelligent and strong of men – but he is human, and that is enough for him to appreciate lingering touches on his back as and when he needs and wants to.

he sees you – fingers twitching and rubbing against each other, clumsily tapping against your palms then scrunching inwards – you need touch. you need to be held. it was as simple and as crucial as breathing. your fingers press in inwards of itself, and he watches the colour recede and return once again as you loosen your grip.

“come here,” alhaitham gestures, wrapping your hand around his. there’s something comforting about how your hand is smaller than his; it’s not that much smaller, but it’s smaller all the same. if you curled yourself up even more, perhaps you’d be able to fit into the palm of his hands.

“don’t do that. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“do what?” you look at him quizzically.

“i wasn’t sure if you were unaware, but you tend to self-soothe and search for touch.” he sighs quietly, absent-mindedly stroking your purlicue as he turned back to his book.

“although i believe you search for it too much. press too hard, and you’ll start to feel numb.”

“ah.” you stare at your hands – the left, which he holds, and the right, resting on the cool table.

“thank you.”

“i said before, there is no need to thank me. if it is a simple matter regarding your well-being, i would do–” he stops himself. anything, is left hanging in silence.

“i would be happy to resolve that matter.”

even holding you? would he dare hold something so shamefully broken?

“thank you...” you close your eyes. he hesitates; just once.

“you don’t sound pleased, nor satisfied. was it something i said?” you hear his voice soften.

no, it’s not you. you shake your head quietly, resting your head against your right palm on the table.

“it’s alright. you do not have to talk if you don’t wish to.” alhaitham replies. you feel him smoothing your hair back – a touch so soft and tender, you can hardly believe it to be for yourself. it was intoxicating; his touch lacked lust, full in love– you have never been loved (loved?) like this before.

you feel slightly warmer now.

the fourth act of love. comforting, when there seems to be no one in your corner.

“i just wanted them to be different. just this once. is that too much to even ask?”

alhaitham holds you tightly as you sob and lament; he holds tighter than he ever has before, and he mourns. he mourns for the walls you had slowly built up over time dawn with the realisation that it had been justified all along; alhaitham knows how hard you have begged for them to be unneeded.

“i know.”

you hiccup, ducking beneath his arm tiredly – and he holds you gently. he holds you, arm resting on the crook of your neck as you rest against a pillow on his side – he holds you like he has done it all his life. fitting yourself – not small but not big – into his frame, alhaitham thinks, may very well be the most natural thing the world has brought him.

“they had no right to treat you like that. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault.” you sniffle.

archon, it hurt. you were going to get hurt in every lifetime, you know that– no, you deserved it. that has been etched into your mind since day one of starting your work. that was just who you were. the poor, miserable corner-sitter who had nothing else to do but correct their own mistakes. no initiative, no ounce of thought. why had the akademiya even hired you if its own people despised you?

“you don’t deserve to be hurt over and over, you know.”

how did he know?

“you said that aloud.”

you mumble a soft sorry, and he replies, shaking his head.

“it isn’t your fault,” alhaitham echoes your previous sentiment, almost teasingly.

“i believe you’re smart enough to figure that out.”

before you look up at his tousled hair to reply, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

a kiss.

his kiss.

“if you find them still bothering you, come and talk to me. the scribe’s position is – it may not be much – but i know with my place within the akademiya, they will listen. i promise you this,” he holds your warm hands in his broader ones.

“if they do not stop, i will leave. i have no regard for a company that will not protect its own workers.”

he wants to say a company that will not protect you, but thinks otherwise. perhaps it is too much right now after his impulsive kiss – that is the one thing that alhaitham mulls over. he has never been impulsive before; always thinking through and filtering and being rational and all the things that makes alhaitham, alhaitham. being impulsive is not a trait others describe him by. 

so why, you–?

the fifth act of love. loving you, even when you believe people cannot.

–because he loves you, and alhaitham cannot, for the life of him and even with all the overbearing advice from kaveh and more bearable guidance from nahida – he cannot put it into words. for the first time in his life, alhaitham stumbles over himself, words tumbling out like love letters hastily shoved into a sack with a cut into it.

“what is so special about me? you’re always here, alhaitham, yet you never grow sick of me.” he finds himself caught off guard when you ask suddenly, caught in today’s throes of anxiety. your words hang cautiously on your tongue like a snake waiting for the moment a displeased reaction appears – whether you hiss or hide, is something alhaitham feels a modicum of curiosity about, pulsing, and pulsing, until he tries.

“you-”

there are too many things that he can think of, he feels. nahida, give me strength.

“you are- you are kind. and generous. you have a heart for people even when they do not have one for you.” he starts, slowly.

“you listen intently, and you enable people to open and talk. they talk because you listen and you support them with all your soul and it is so evident that you love.”

you want to cry.

“i admit i am not good with words, but you deserve every vow i utter tonight. you love so loudly, and you feel no shame for it – you have inspired me, and i dare confess that there have been many times i have desired to pull back, out of worry that i have felt the distinct possibility that i was about to fall in love with you.”

oh. you blink as if that hasn’t been obvious enough.

alhaitham is deeply and madly in love with you.

“i love you, not only because you are special, but also because i believe you deserve every ounce of love i can retrieve from myself. i know it has been made clear to you that others do not feel the same way, and it hurts to believe that some of it has come from those i know – i promise to be different–”

“you already are, alhaitham.” you feel yourself choke up. love is entangling itself around your trachea and holding you hostage, never letting go.

“you have never treated me with the same contempt. i love you, i know you return my feelings and for that i am thankful. i’m sorry that i’m not an easy person to love, please...” you trail off, feeling his body collide into yours. alhaitham holds you. he holds you, hand on your back and the other cradling your head against his shoulder.

“i want to love you,” he whispers into your hair.

“please let me.”

ask alhaitham, however? you see a soft smile adorns his features as he mulls over the question of what love is to him. love, forever yours, evermore.

[dominicfikeenthusiast]

UNSENT LETTERS (PART 3) / MATT STURNIOLO

“old shoe box underneath his bed, filled with love letters”

part 1 part 2

the date had been amazing. brayden was the sweetest guy, you went to a small beach side restaurant, watched the sunset with him, eventually going back to his place. now you were sitting on the carpet in nicks room, recapping the date.

“OMG YOU MADE OUT WITH HIM?!” nick screamed so loud, you swear the whole neighbourhood could hear. “nick can you shut up, everyone’s gonna hear” you say shaking your head in your hands. “sorry, but that’s insane, ugh i’m so happy for you girl” he says, his voice slightly above a whisper.

matt’s ear was pressed against the door hearing everything. it was eavesdropping, some would say a invasion of privacy, but he didn’t care. his heart sank when you mentioned how great the date was. when he’d heard nicks scream, his emotion switched to anger. oh god he kissed her. he kissed my girl?

he walked away to his room, feeling as if he had heard enough. slamming the door behind him. he grabbed his notebook again, scribbling down another note. “it should’ve been me.” he slid the paper in the box, his emotions still at high.

matt knew he shouldn’t be acting like this, he didn’t own you and it was his own fault his feelings were bottled up. it also didn’t help the fact he had a lacrosse game with brayden tomorrow, he hated even having to see his face.

he tried to go to sleep the entire night, tossing and turning in his bed. matt hated when he couldn’t fall asleep, which was most nights. he was a huge over-thinker but for some reason it got worse as the sky got dimmer. a million thoughts trail through his head.

“god i hope brayden messes up and loses her”

“but i want her to be happy”

“just not with somebody else”

“shit i’m being selfish”

“god i really like her”

“this is pathetic, i need to get a grip”

“fuck, everything about her makes me go insane though”

the thoughts never didn’t ever really stop for matt, especially when it was about you.

·:*¨༺ ♱ ੈ‧₊˚ ✮ ੈ‧₊˚ ♱ ༻¨*:·

𝜗𝜚 - ps. sorry for all the slowburnn, next chapter will be juicy fs 🤫

𝜗𝜚 - tags : @ifwdominicfike @bells-sturn @sturnxies @iheartmattsbeard @chrislilcumslvt @mattsmiddlepartt @chrissv4mp @flouvela @chrisfavoritewhore @luckystarlogs @snowysosturn @x0x0bunny @anastasia-ac3rr3 @submattenthusiast @s7attr @jassturn @liasturniolo @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @ilovedyoumiss @kirby0strombolli @milaatyourworst @ginswife @skibidijewishgirl @adoreechxmpion @lovesturni0l0s @bandanamatt @clairomatt @rorylovesmatt @pasteldreams @chris-hallelujah @y3sterdaysproblem @xoxo4chrisss @mattsd0ll @mattslverr @jetaimevous @xoxo4chrisss @mattsd0ll @clairomatt @maggot3647 @izzylovesmatt @kennastromboli

[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.

__

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[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.

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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!

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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.

[mg-dango]

GUYS HELP ME WITH THIS THEORY

spoiler warnings for chapter 7:

One thing I noticed a lot are the symbolic details this issue in particular has.

First, everyone probably knows this already, but usually the TF2 comics take as a reference classic comic covers, “Ring of fire” references Spiderman for example, “Old wounds” reference Watchmen, “The naked and the dead” references Crisis on infinite Earths, and this one, while I’m not 100% sure, I think it references Batman year one, where we all see the classic picture of Bruce Wayne contemplating his now dead parents and all that yadda yadda.

Before I proceed, pay attention to this

Now read it again but check out the different scenarios of the covers

“MY GRANDFATHER, EBENEZER MANN. SHIPPING MAGNATE. YOUNGEST OF FIVE SONS. EVERY BROTHER IN THE GROUND BY THE TIME HE BOUGHT HIS FIRST FLEET.”

“MY FATHER, EZEKIEL MANN. RAILROAD TYCOON. MIDDLE CHILD. A HOUSE FIRE CLAIMED HIS THREE SISTERS.”

But especially the last one:

“ZEPHENIAH MANN. ME. MUNITIONS MAGNATE. ONLY SON, SADLY.”

Now, This is my first hypothesis but I don’t believe that last one part, about him being an only son. I also think there are symbolisms and details on the last cover, we see drawings and sketches or prototypes or patents or whatever about guns and weapons all over the floor, and 3 hats which could mean there were 3 siblings but one (Zepheniah) killed the others, and I think the last one cover are the actual admin’s parents and the other 3 are her ancestors… Probably (I don’t know how to say it in English sorry). I also think something about her having 3 fake identities could mean something but I’m not sure yet (Elizabeth, Helen, Emily).

My hypothesis is this, even though the admin couldn’t remember why she wanted revenge towards Zepheniah and achieving said goal by watching the legacy of his family slowly crumble by making the siblings fight each other for eternity and then forcing him to watch it... I think the admin is the daughter or some family member of one of the hypothetical Zepheniah’s siblings that he murdered because of “instincts” like he said, like it’s a family tradition that one sibling must kill the others to steal their achievements and continue the Mann legacy (I feel like the statue of the thinker made by Rodin and Zepheniah replacing its head with his could be a metaphor of that)

ALSO, ANOTHER THING THAT BACKS MH HYPOTHESIS:

If the admin had no correlation AT ALL with the Mann family, then how did she know about the australium even when she was a child? (note: she probably didn't know what Australium could do, calling it "Fools gold" until Gray Mann told her about the power it actually had and then she had the motivation to continue her revenge, however this doesn’t mean that she wasn’t in contact with the Australium before)

And one last detail and symbolism

The roses that grow up in the grave could symbolize Zepheniah and in general, Mann’s legacy. By cutting the roses and putting the mere stems on his grave, could mean that she is cutting this “legacy” or rather “dooming” to become nothing at the end of it by making the brothers fight and all the gravel wars stuff, not letting one brother succeed over the other unlike the past generations.

Hm, there are more things on my mind but first I want to re-think it better and if everything makes sense. I’m open to suggestions, corrections and or even a better wording of my theory. This is all rushed to which I apologize. 😔

[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.

Day 12: In the back of your car there's a big black mark (where I ripped the seat) (car sex, riding, a little breathplay/choking) They have their first little talk of the evening with Simon on one side of the buffet table, Wille on the other, sweet fucking irony, Wille thinks, remembering itchy wigs and poofy pants and the most beautiful song he’s heard in his life, to date. They chat, crack a joke here and there, laugh, even. Settle back into a pattern that feels so eerily familiar, so nostalgic, so unreal. Because how can it be like this, how can they go back to who they were those years ago, how can it feel so effortless? Wille spends the rest of the evening on a cloud, untethered, floating, feeling light and ungrounded. Feeling like, at once, everything he’s been missing is coming back to him, overwhelming, but in the best way. And he is surprised, yeah, but also not at all, when they first crash into each other in the hallway. Because it feels like this is what they’ve been tiptoeing around all evening, this is what his entire body knew had to happen.

Day 13: Find a brand new way of seeing (Your eyes forever glued to mine) (1/2) (edging, toys, blindfolds) Everything is dark, and yet Wille feels like the white-hot sparks shooting up his spine are streaking his vision. He lets out a pathetic sound when Simon speeds up the movement of his hand yet again, only to stop all at once. This is worse than Wille imagined, so much worse. And he loves it. Every single touch, from Simon’s palm on his cock to the fingertips he’s digging into Wille’s hips to hold him down, Wille feels it tenfold. It’s like Simon’s hand weighs heavier on him than usually, like his skin feels hotter against Wille’s sensitive one, like every sound Simon makes, every little huff of breath, every single tsk he makes when Wille involuntarily tries to thrust up into his grip, is amplified. Wille thinks he can hear Simon smile, that typical brief exhale through his nose, a quiet hum. The thought sends a shiver up his spine. There’s a thrill in not knowing, not being able to see. In having to wait for verbal confirmation that he’s doing it right. He hopes he’s being good for Simon, hopes he is looking pretty with the black silk tied around his head.

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.