#the time despite no one ever telling me that. I just feel like such a fucking mess

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Your Specialty (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer sees his significant other comforting a child and it makes him wonder. A/N: Written for my best friend on her birthday. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort Content Warning: Minor self-deprecation, implied difficult childhood, crying Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

Spencer loves you every day. There is never a doubt or a hesitation. With each glance, he finds something new to add to the ever-growing list of reasons why he is right to love you.

But there are some moments where even he, in his seemingly infinite wisdom, is unable to put into words the way he feels when it comes to you. In those moments, all he can do is silently soak in the unknowing.

It was a quiet moment, all things considered. There was no more bad guys to be caught, no more bloodshed to be had. Still, there were tears, as there usually were when you were around.

It wasn’t your fault. You just have a way about you that makes people feel… loved. Sometimes for the first time.

Spencer peers through his open office door to find you. You are on your knees, eyes locked with the young boy standing in front of you.

His small body shakes with incoherent sobs. He is held steady only by your gentle hands cupping his face. Despite the sight, you are smiling. A calm, subtle curve that holds him up in another way.

From where he is, Spencer can’t hear your words. But he can still feel the relief. He finds himself mirroring you both, with deep inhales fighting against the knot his throat. The air comes out warm and trembling.

In that moment, as he watches you comfort something small, he is a little boy again. He is the one lifting his arms in a silent request to be loved in a simple way.

And he can feel it. He feels your arms as they wrap around the little boy and lift him gently from the ground.

The feeling is almost too much, but he doesn’t look away. He watches and waits patiently for you to let the little boy go.

He waits for you to notice, to quickly come to him before your own trembling hands are noticed by the boy being carried away to what Spencer still hopes will be a happily ever after.

Spencer watches you the entire time. His own mind races, struggling still to find words to explain the feeling in his chest.

He’d almost gotten it when you interrupt the thought with a laugh.

“What is it?” you ask.

Any eloquence vanishes and is replaced with a stammer.

“You’re uh… you’re good at that,” he says. "Comforting kids."

Somehow, it sounds better than it did in his head.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the compliment, you glance over your shoulder to see the boy still watching you.

You recognize the same expression on your lover’s face.

“Kids are easy to love,” you answer.

He accepts your humility. He meets the modesty with his own typical self-deprecation.

“You should’ve seen me as a kid.”

Beneath the words, you hear the uncertainty. That stubborn, relentless fear that there is something rotten to be found in his heart.

You narrow your eyes as you inspect him. His shoulders square under your scrutiny. You look at him, carefully reviewing each wrinkle and freckle. You tilt your head to look at him in another way.

And you find nothing at all rotten.

“I would’ve liked that,” you tell him in earnest.

Emboldened, but still afraid, Spencer dares to take another step forward.

“What do you think you would’ve said?” he says like it’s a joke.

This time, your pause is a couple beats longer.

You look at the man in front of you and try to imagine him with teeth too big for a tiny frame. You imagine unruly curls and thick, crooked glasses perched over innocent eyes.

You look at the man you love and you see it. A small boy staring up at you in his oversized suit. Always trying to be both smaller and bigger than he was meant to be.

“I’d tell him,” you say, unsure of your own words, “that he’s strong and clever, and he shouldn’t have to try so hard to prove it to everyone.”

Spencer sucks in a breath that betrays his aloof demeanor. The words hit him like a swift blow to the stomach. But even with the pain, he hopes you’re not finished.

You’re not.

“I’d tell him that I know he’s trying his hardest, and sometimes things are bigger than us and…”

You bite your tongue to stop tears from welling. You breathe in sharply, reaching up to place both palms against his reddened cheeks. You laugh as they shift towards a goofy grin despite tears.

“I’d tell him that everything’s going to be okay,” you say confidently.

“Oh,” he chuckles; a sad but necessary sound.

"Yeah."

Gentle thumbs wipe each droplet that manages to spill from big golden brown eyes. The same as you had moments before, you catch what you can of his sadness and turn it to comforting warmth across his cheek.

Spencer bites his lip, looking down at your feet before daring to look at you again. Because when he does, he loses his breath and his sense once more.

“I, uh... I think he would’ve liked that,” he confesses.

“I know,” you whisper with a genuine remorse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Spencer accepts the apology but refuses to stay in the past any longer.

“But you’re here now,” he says quickly.

“Yeah, I am,” you laugh in return. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

But letting you go is the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, he pulls you closer until there is nothing but atoms between you. Strong arms embrace you and his clever words muffle against your hair.

“I wouldn’t even dare to try.”

Together, you settle into the silence. You share your warmth without restraint. Just two bodies swaying in a simple and symbiotic embrace. You enjoy the comfort, the company, the lack of need for words to describe it all.

And once you feel he’s had his fill, you sigh against his shirt.

“You know, I’m going to get through to that little boy eventually.”

Spencer halts his step as he starts to laugh.

“Is that a threat?” he asks.

Without moving from your place against him, you smile.

“Watch out, Dr. Reid,” you hum. “I’ve been told I’m good at this.”

Spencer accepts the warning with a smile.

“Yes," he chuckles. "Yes, you are.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[connorsui]

In the Quiet Afterhours

Zayne x reader

Synopsis: In the quiet of afterhours, you and zayne find solace in the intimacy of simple acts of care, your love unspoken yet deeply felt through the tenderness of shared moments.

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, silence of intimacy, zayne wanting to drown himself in your warmth, you are the light in this manz life, no warnings tho …zayne has suffered enough

note: I just wanna take care of him...like plz let me give my man his needed care..

w.: 1,180

There was, perhaps, no greater feeling than the quietude of love that existed in those moments where words fell away, leaving only the hum of companionship to bind two souls together. Zayne had always been a man of few words—practical in his pursuits, level-headed in his judgments, and ever the picture of self-possession. Yet, beneath that stern exterior, there was a tenderness reserved solely for you, a tenderness that revealed itself not in grand gestures or fervent declarations, but in the subtleties of shared moments, and the warmth of a gaze lingering far longer than propriety might allow.

This evening was no different, save for the weariness etched into his fine features, the faint shadows under his hazel-green eyes telling the tale of a long day spent in service to duty. He returned home as he always did—quietly, with little fanfare, his shoulders still squared despite the obvious weight that pressed upon him. And yet, when his eyes found yours, there was a softening in his expression, the firm lines of his brow relaxing as though the sight of you alone was enough to ease the burdens he carried.

"Welcome home," you murmured, the warmth of your voice drawing him nearer.

"Hello, love"

Zayne, ever pragmatic, offered a small nod, but it was the way his hand rose to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek that spoke volumes more than any pleasantry could. There was an intimacy in that touch, in the way his fingers lingered against your skin as though reluctant to part, as though you alone were the balm to his tired soul.

He said little as you coaxed him toward the shower, his resistance nonexistent, for he had learned, in these quiet moments, to let you care for him. It was a remarkable thing, this unspoken understanding between you—a partnership built on the most delicate threads of love, trust, and respect. You, in turn, had come to know that behind Zayne’s pragmatic exterior was a man who cherished the simplicity of your presence, a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable only when the world outside had no claim on him.

The warm cascade of water was a gentle relief, steam curling in the air as you worked the soap into your hands, your fingers gliding over his tense shoulders. The muscles beneath your touch, though firm, betrayed a quiet exhaustion, and as you began to wash him, you could feel the faint tremor of relief in his body, the tension slowly unraveling.

He closed his eyes, his lips parting in a near inaudible sigh, and for a moment, he was not the stoic officer, nor the pragmatic strategist. He was simply Zayne, a man who found comfort in your touch, in the way your hands moved with careful precision over his skin, tracing the curves and lines that you had come to know so intimately.

In another’s eyes, this scene might have seemed mundane, but there was an indescribable beauty in the familiarity of it all—a beauty that lay not in grandiose acts of affection but in the quiet devotion with which you attended to one another. It was a love that needed no embellishment, no flowery language to justify its existence, for it was rooted in something far more profound.

When your hands drifted lower, the soap lathering between your fingers, Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, and there it was again—that look of quiet reverence that always seemed to accompany his gaze when it fell upon you. It was not the gaze of a man merely admiring your physical form, but the gaze of a man rediscovering you anew each time, as though the sight of you was enough to set his soul alight in ways words could never adequately express.

He said nothing, but the faintest upward curve of his lips betrayed him. “Spoiling me again?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing in a way that would have seemed foreign to anyone but you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” you replied softly, smiling as your hands worked the soap along the lines of his body. “You work so hard... At least let me take care of you.”

There was a moment, brief yet timeless, where Zayne’s eyes softened even further, the weight of his exhaustion giving way to something deeper, something far more tender. It was in these moments that you truly understood the depth of his affections. He would never speak them outright, for it was not his nature to indulge in the overt declarations that many sought in love. Yet, in the way he stood before you, allowing you to see him in his most vulnerable state, you knew. You knew that his heart, so often guarded, was entirely yours.

When it came time to wash his hair, Zayne bent forward with practiced ease, his dark hair falling over his brow as you lathered the shampoo into his scalp. You laughed, as you always did, at the way his hair fluffed beneath the suds, your amusement drawing a faint smile from him.

“You look cute like this,” you teased, the lightness in your voice a welcome contrast to the quiet of the room.

He glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised in mock indignation. “cute?...another word for you to describe me...” he echoed, his voice dry, though the glint in his hazel eyes betrayed his amusement. “If you could see how I invision you, the roles would be reversed"

Yet he made no protest, content to let you have your moment of playful teasing. For all his stoicism, Zayne had always had a soft spot for the way your laughter lit up the room, and though he would never admit it aloud, he found your teasing far more endearing than he let on.

When the roles reversed, and it was Zayne’s hands that worked the soap into your hair, he was as gentle as ever. His fingers moved with a precision that was unmistakably him, careful to ensure no soap slipped into your eyes. “I know you say I deserved to be spoiled but allow me to give that in return, ten times fold ” he murmured, his voice a quiet caress, his touch so tender it felt as though you might melt beneath it.

You didn't argue.

Once the water had washed away the last traces of soap, he reached for a towel, and in the same unhurried manner, began to dry you off with the utmost care, as though each motion was imbued with the love he so rarely spoke of. It was in these moments, in the quiet spaces between words, that you truly understood the depth of Zayne’s love for you—a love that, like the stars themselves, was constant, enduring, and far more profound than words could ever convey.

Even after the task was complete, he lingered, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close in an embrace that spoke of more than just comfort. It was connection, the unspoken promise that even in silence, his heart was yours.

His breath, soft against your neck, mingled with the warmth of your skin, and there, in the quiet afterhours of the day, there was no need for words.

Just the two of you alone.

Gimmie a tired zayne I would take care of him

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

part three ....????? any part three hopefuls out there?

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

[paddockletters]

late-night talkings | osxar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x reader

summary: Late at night, unable to sleep, you and Oscar dive into a heartfelt conversation about racing, the future, and life beyond the track. As memories resurface and dreams unfold, you realize just how much the future holds for both of you.

author's note: first fic with oscarrrr, i hope you liked it .. Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

It was well past 1 AM, and neither of you could sleep. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the dim light barely enough to push back the darkness. You lay next to Oscar, staring at the ceiling, each of you lost in your thoughts.

His sigh broke the silence first, and you turned your head slightly to see him lying on his back, eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice was low, barely a whisper in the stillness of the night.

“Nope,” you replied, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “You?”

Oscar chuckled lightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Not even close. My mind won’t shut off.”

You shifted closer to him, the blanket sliding down as you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture.

“Everything,” he finally said, his voice soft. “Racing, the future, us…”

You tilted your head, a small frown forming on your face. “What about us?”

Oscar let out a sigh, his eyes flickering over to meet yours. “I’ve been thinking… about where I want to be in a few years. About what happens after racing. And I don’t know, it’s just been on my mind a lot lately.”

You paused, taking in his words. It wasn’t the first time you had these late-night conversations, but this one felt heavier, more serious.

“What do you see?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I see more races, obviously. Hopefully a few wins,” he added with a small smile, but there was something deeper behind it. “But after that... I don’t know. I just know I want you there with me, wherever that is.”

His words settled in your chest, warm and comforting. You remembered a conversation you'd had early in his career, before everything got so intense, before the constant travel, the pressure, the sleepless nights like this one.

It was his rookie season, and everything had been so new—so exhilarating and overwhelming all at once. You were standing in the paddock, watching him from the sidelines as he navigated the chaos of his first race weekend. You could still remember the way his face lit up when he saw you after the race, his excitement bubbling over despite the exhaustion that lined his features.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he had said, pulling you into a hug. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his heart still racing from the adrenaline of the day. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but here we are.”

“I always knew you would,” you had replied, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You were born for this.”

Now, lying next to him in the dark, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory. So much had changed since then, but in many ways, things were still the same. You were still by his side, through the highs and the lows, the wins and the losses. And he was still the same Oscar, even if the weight of the world sometimes rested on his shoulders.

“What about kids?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “Do you ever think about that?”

Oscar’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “You’re really asking me about kids at 2 AM?”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Why not? You’re the one who brought up the future.”

He sighed, his expression turning thoughtful. “I do think about it sometimes. Not anytime soon, obviously, but... yeah. I could see us with kids one day.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he added with a teasing grin, “They’d have to be faster than me, though. I can’t have slow kids.”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting his arm. “You and your racing. I swear, you’ll be teaching them to drive before they can even walk.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous sparkle you loved so much. “Absolutely. I’ll get them in a kart as soon as they’re old enough. Gotta keep the Piastri legacy going.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. It was moments like this—these small, quiet conversations—that reminded you of why you loved him so much. Despite the craziness of his career, despite the pressure and the constant traveling, he was still the same goofy, thoughtful guy you fell in love with.

“Do you ever wonder what we’d be doing if you weren’t racing?” you asked after a beat of silence.

Oscar turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think… this is where we’re supposed to be. I don’t think I’d be happy doing anything else. And I like to think you wouldn’t either.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re right. I can’t imagine a life without you doing what you love.”

His hand found yours under the covers, and he squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in the best way, and you leaned in closer, resting your head on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The conversation lulled, but the silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken promises and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. You lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the future stretching out ahead of you in a way that felt both daunting and exciting all at once.

But eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, and you could feel Oscar’s breathing start to even out as he drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a little while longer, your mind swirling with thoughts of everything you had talked about—the future, kids, racing. It was all so uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel scared.

As sleep finally began to claim you, you whispered into the quiet, “Goodnight, Oscar.”

In the dim light, you felt him smile, his arms tightening around you as he mumbled sleepily, “Goodnight, love.”

[80rosequartz08]

Vivziepop Can't Write POC

TW/CW: Racism, S/A mention

Surprisingly Vivziepop's work actually has more POC characters than I first realized. And all of them are...less then splendid.

Valkyrie

Valkyrie...poor, poor Valkyrie...

Forever cursed to sit in the back, shut up, and only stand up and contribute when her white savior girlfriend either royally screws things up or needs moral support.

I've spoken about my strong feelings on Valkyrie many times before in previous posts so I'll only really give one new shred of criticism I've realized: Making your main POC female cast member a former genocidal murderer who spent supposed years killing her girlfriend's kind is...a choice.

Emily and Sera

My biggest issue with Emily and Sera (especially Emily) is that you can hardly even tell that they're meant to be Black. Their skin is a weird dark grayish brown, their features are stock and bland (both of them lacking proper noses), and their hair is some puzzling mix of straight and poofy.

And the writing of them both is also unimpressive. Emily is a carbon-copy, stock "Bubbly young girl" archetype who never really does much other than sing and move around. She acts more like a piece on a chessboard than a character, simply moving and doing what the scene needs her to do. Sera on the other hand, is a personality-less stick figure who just kind of does things because...the plot requires it. Also, great move Vivzie! Making one of the main villains a Black woman who endorses genocide and has to act like a babysitter/manager to the loud, obnoxious, hate-spewing white guy. How progressive!

Velvette (Kind of?)

I...actually have no real words to say about Velvette. Which sounded like a positive until I realized the reason I had nothing to say about her is because she does nothing. Like, ever.

She just kind of stands around being annoying and ignoring her fellow Vee's whining fits and sex crimes. Jeez, uh...that argument between her and Carmilla was stupid, I guess?

Velvette: She sure is one of the characters of all time!

Valentino

Not even worth mentioning, you already know he's terrible.

Alastor/Husk

Oh dear god, Alastor...

Words fail me at how much of an insane fail both of these characters are. One is a offensive caricature of Voodou that would make Dr. Facilier roll in his grave, who's also somehow whiter than snow despite being half Creloe. And the other is a constantly complaining douche and a hopeless alcoholic, who has a whole song devoted to calling a sex worker a loser for being abused/not having a proper coping mechanism. Oh, AND he's enslaved by the other "Black" guy! HOW PROGRESSIVE 😀

Oh and Carmilla is there too, but I've been awake for too long and also have nothing to say about her :/

[kiame-sama]

Do you think we can get a pt 3 to the yandere Lilia fic? I need to see how Lilia shows Reader that he's not a child at all 🥵🔥😈. Lilia, in my opinion, is one of those yanderes with breeding and babytrapping kink. He probably wants Silver to have lots of little siblings 🥰💖.

Many hugs from Argentina 🥰🤗💖

What Are You, Twelve? (Yandere!Lilia x Reader) Pt 3

Warnings: yandere, yandere behavior, yandere temper, Lilia's yandere side gets set loose for a little bit, Lilia snaps a little, vague self-depreciating behavior/talk, real talk from reader to Lilia, Crowley is uncomfortable, Silver is uncomfortable, gender neutral reader, implied adult scenarios,

~~~~~~~~

You sat in the Headmage's office with Lilia as he had dragged you to the less than pleased Headmage and demanded the man vouch for him. Lilia had gotten more than a little persistent in his attempts to make you acknowledge his age as anything above twelve. From making other students and even teachers talk about his age, to being a bit more adult in his behavior, Lilia has tried tirelessly to convince you.

Little did Lilia know, you were actually starting to believe him. Ever since you saw the photo album with Silver, you had actually begun to believe Lilia was older than he looked, but you were hoping that continued feigned ignorance would eventually make him give up.

It was one thing when you thought Lilia was a child saying all of these salacious things to you, it is another entirely to know Lilia was centuries old and still doing this. Even as the Headmage vouched for Lilia's age over a cup of tea with the two of you, you still wanted to deny accepting his age. In the time between Lilia's attempts to win you over, you had done some digging into Lilia's past and found yourself feeling rather bland when compared to the Fae.

Why would someone like him be so determined to chase someone like you?

"I don't know... This all seems like a big joke to me still."

"How? After all of this, how? Tell me, (Y/n). You are not a dumb child of man by any means, I know that much. How can you not believe even after all of this?"

His tone was almost pained and you actually felt compelled to be honest with him despite how upset it may make him. He had been trying very hard to get you to see him as more than a child and in some regards you felt badly for making him so distraught and stressed. Granted, he was being quite obsessive and inappropriate with his conversations towards you, but this charade has gone on long enough.

"Truthfully, Lilia," you crossed your legs, trying to hold the Fae's gaze, "the simple power of willful ignorance. I figured you were being serious after Silver embarrassed himself with that photo album. He is a little lost most days, but he is no liar, even at your behest."

"So you were just teasing me this whole time. I can forgive playful or coy behavior, but this?"

"Not the whole time, no. I genuinely thought you were a child up until Silver showed me the photo album. After Silver talked to me, I decided to do some research... into you. Lilia, you do see it, don't you? I'm... not enough for you, and I likely never will be. I'm human and magicless. You're... You. Malleus showed me that you're even in our history books, for goodness sakes. I can't be any more Fae than you can be Human, so-"

The sudden sound of porcelain crunching cut you off in a sharp and jarring way, hearing the pieces crinkling to the floor in the silence that followed. You were stunned as you stared at Lilia's hand, the blood slowly dripping down from where he crushed the cup of tea he had been drinking. Even the Headmage didn't know how to react to the sudden and uncharacteristic behavior.

Lilia was silent for a long moment before he spoke and his voice chilled your very blood. Typically the cherub-faced Fae was excitable and had a certain bounce to his tone and step, almost playing up the child-like features of his. All of that life and tone was gone from his voice and it left a near monotone voice that held all too much venom for how little rage it carried.

"Say another word, and I will come completely unhinged, (Y/n). You have done plenty of talking thus far, now it is time for you to listen." He stood from his chair and began walking towards you, that same look on his face that spoke of horrors beyond his years, "I pride myself in being slow to anger and being quite the trickster in my own right. Startling people is a hobby of mine as is playing the cute school-boy persona as much as I can, but I am a father and have seen many human lifetimes."

Lilia stood in front of you now, making you suddenly feel so very small before the odd being. It really hadn't occurred to you before that moment what others meant when they said Lilia could be intimidating or even downright frightening when he wanted to be. It somewhat made you feel like you were being scolded by a figure of authority, bringing you to lower your head and refuse to meet the gaze of the suddenly intense Fae. He didn't like this and used one hand to tilt your head back so you could stare at him with wide eyes.

"You are one of the brightest and most fascinating humans I have had the pleasure of encountering in over three centuries. And here I have to listen to you talk about yourself as if you are just another face of the ever changing tapesty that makes up this school. Do you not see the things you do? The way you change the very atmosphere of a room with your presence. The way you befriend even the most enigmatic and temperamental of the student body..."

As he trailed off he seemed to become distracted with the way he held your chin, the slightest bit of warmth returning to his expression before it was gone again in an instant. When you thought he was a child it had been easy to talk to and face Lilia, despite his constant attempts at flirting he had still been a positive influence in your day. Now you wondered how you could really have been so naïve to think the wizened being before you was anything less than a centuries old enigma. He had been playing the sweet and bubbly school-boy adeptly and it fooled you all too well.

"So very frustrating to hear you've been playing coy, but- fortunately for you- it hasn't been too long of a game and I can't fault anyone for being less than forthcoming about themselves. I don't find myself chasing the children of men often, (Y/n). It is uncommon, but do you truly think that we Fae haven't figured out a way to lengthen the human life-span for those we have decided to keep? It is an unnatural life as humans aren't typically meant to live that long, but we still can do it."

You were unable to say much of anything to the Fae, feeling vaguely disturbed by the warm and slightly sticky feeling of his blood on his hand. He was not as bothered by it as you were and almost seemed to have forgotten that he has injured himself. The main thing other than intimidation that kept you quiet was the fact the usually affable Headmage had yet to say anything either. Crowley was usually the one to count on for a break in tenson but he didn't seem keen to interrupt the Diasomnia Vice-housewarden.

You couldn't blame him.

"You have no idea the things you do, but I can and will teach you if I must. Regardless, I've been quite patient and now I find myself wanting more than a bit of compensation for the emotional turmoil you've put me through. So, agree to go on a date with me and I will forgive the sleight against me and continue fostering my boundless patience with you."

A moment of silence passed and it was clear Lilia was waiting for you to say something. He seemed more than content staring at you expectantly for you to speak. The only indication of his waning patience was the way his hand moved from your chin to your neck.

"... Your hand is still bleeding."

This seemed to throw the Fae off for a moment as a kind of awareness returned to him, taking note of his injured hand on your throat. A moment of silence passed again as Lilia felt your racing heartbeat under his fingers, your pulse betraying your fear. He withdrew from you rather quickly upon feeling the physical evidence of your fear.

"To think I'm this worked up over something ultimately so trivial. You are such a unique child of man, (Y/n). You can get even my old heart stirring for the first time in a long time."

It was around this point Crowley finally spoke up, his voice pitched up ever so slightly which betrayed how uncomfortable he was in the situation. The other Fae had not expected Lilia of all students to become so enraged at your refusal. It only unsettled him further to witness the clear threat Lilia had made by putting his hand on your throat when you didn't respond to him the way he wanted.

"Well, now that is dealt with, is there any reason to continue this conversation in my office?"

"... No. No, there isn't. Is there? Not unless (Y/n) feels like trying to continue this charade."

You shook your head, trying to keep the surprisingly intimidating Fae calm. Now he knew you had been refusing him based on your own feelings of inadequacy, he could work on making you fall for him. The question was if he wanted to do this with the use of a spell, a love potion, or simply winning you over with his own charms.

~•§•~

"... Father, why is (Y/n) sleeping in your bed?"

"Because, Silver, your papa has finally managed to get what he wants from life."

"Please tell me you aren't talking about making them sit on your face?"

"Well, if you must know-"

"Nope. I don't need or want to know, actually. Forgive me for asking."

"... How do you feel about gaining a few siblings, Silver?"

[thecheshirerat]

On TAZ-

Wow that sounds like I’m about to summarize some sort of discourse but I promise I’m not. I guess I’ll say that I really like this show and I will keep listening even if my worst fears come to pass, so keep that in mind!

For reference, I started listening near the end of Amnesty.

I’ve noticed, with the past few arcs- really since Ethersea- the narratives have just… not been fulfilling their promises, so to speak. They’ve been placing a lot of guns that don’t go off. What I mean by that is, the characters are great. Excellent, really. Lady Godwin? HELL YES. Emerich Dreadway? Fuck yeah! And so on! And the settings and premises have been epic- the goofiness and also horrifying nature of Engrave, the mad and thrilling world of Steeplechase- these things are COOL AS FUCK.

and then the actual narratives keep flopping?

And honestly, I notice it most in the endings, because you can really tell when an ending doesn’t land. You feel the sense of disappointment. But with vs. Dracula, for example, I could kinda see leading up to it that the ending couldn’t really BE anything special, because they lowkey didn’t set themselves up for it.

They spent the campaign fucking around in Engrave, finding clues and solving problems and not really experiencing any particularly meaningful character arcs or growth or, idk, forming relationships? So there wasn’t much to pay off, I’m not gonna lie!

Of course it doesn’t feel quite as dissatisfying when you’re in the thick of it, because they’re funny and the stuff is cool and- oh hey! Lady Godwin’s been turned into a werehorse against her will?? that’s got some real potential for a LOT of allegories and exploration of some fun character development! And then it’s kinda played as a joke. And then they do that again and again.

And they actually said that that was a move they made intentionally, in the TTAZZ. I’m not quoting them perfectly here, this is from memory, but I do remember them mentioning that they wanted lighthearted comedy without the burden of real life story stuff. And I get that, honestly, but… it’s not the choice I would’ve made. I do think you can keep a lighthearted tone while also, idk, forming relationships and wholesomely engaging with some amount of emotion. And sometimes going way too deep is funny as a tone shift!

But I digress. One thing that’s also popped out to me is the almost complete lack of any kind of romantic storyline or even references. This becomes obvious if you’re in a fandom because everyone is always dying to ship SOMEONE, and you can tell when people are really getting desperate. I don’t blame them for not wanting to roleplay romance with their family, and I do think stories lacking romance are COOL and SHOULD BE ENCOURAGED!

However if you can’t find ANYBODY to ship together… that may mean you just don’t have character bonds. The growing popularity of the PC polycule is interesting to me; I wonder if it’s partially because

a) none of the pcs have significant relationships outside of their party and

b) even within the party, there doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between any given pair of characters…? I hope I’m making my point well here- the PCs all seem equally close and have more or less the same relationship to all of their compatriots with little distinction, meaning, essentially, no shipping fodder that doesn’t involve just all of ‘em.

Either way, it makes me wonder if I can blame the “Graduation has too many NPCs!” critique. They really stopped giving the parties tag-along main NPCs after graduation, with the exception of maybe.. Urchin? Kodira? Shlabethany? Poppy? and even they get relatively little “screen” time. Steeplechase has great NPCs, I love them to death, but none of the PCs seem to ever have one on one conversations with NPCs or each other that do not explicitly focus on the plot. And I think that’s part of why the characters feel so underdeveloped despite having spent a lot of time with them- because in this character-driven genre, we get very little insight into their feelings or motivations or even their rudimentary backstories.

I started watching Fantasy High recently and it made me realize a couple things about TAZ.

1) Recently, TAZ has sooo few core NPCs, and it’s weird that the characters aren’t doing more one-on-one purely character based scenes. And that makes it really tough to develop them.

2) TAZ is- and I should have realized this before- one of many good dnd podcasts. They’re probably looking for a niche they can master.

And it sounds like they’re trying to get back to that old “Here there be Gerblins!” energy. They’ve referenced it so many times in recent TTAZZes- they wanted to be job-focused, allowing story stuff to happen organically, so they tried a more open world vibe with Ethersea. They wanted to be less afraid to kill stuff, so they tried playing criminals (and were still afraid to kill stuff). They wanted to be silly and light on character, as they tackled with taz vs dracula. Now they’re trying to bring in the silly cartoon vibe with Abnimals. I think they’re trying to make that family-friendly, funny and goofy show their niche. Something other actual plays can’t be better at them at.

And honestly it kinda makes me sad, that they keep trying to go back to Balance while ignoring everything they learned during it. Because I loved Dust. Because I loved Amnesty. Because I loved Ethersea. I loved these past arcs! But they keep doing their brilliant characters dirty for some reason!!! And i don’t know why!!!!

You know that meme about people who ask questions in movies and then the person responds “Have you ever been to a movie before? You watch them and the information is revealed.” There have been so many times in TAZ recently where information has Not been revealed and if they keep doing it the audience will stop bothering to suspend their disbelief, because the trust just isn’t there.

What is Montrose’s deal? What on earth was Carmine Denton’s whole thing? Tell me more about Zoox’s feelings, about Devo’s past, about Amber’s future. Show me how Lady Godwin feels about the body horror that is her life- like, seriously! WHY DID WE HAVE TO COMPLETELY DISMISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO DISCUSS GENERATIONAL TRAUMA IN MUTT’S LIFE FOR A JOKE??

Do you remember in Steeplechase where the boys were getting medical attention or something- i don’t remember, but they were all in one room and only talking about The Plot. And Poppy literally banged on the door (speaking for both Justin and me, tbh) and was like “does anyone want to share any feeeeelings??” and they were like NOPE! and they moved on!!

like. cmon. you can’t just put a character like montrose out there and then leave them severely underdeveloped to the point that what would be interesting in proper context, with audience insight, becomes confusing and chaotic.

I just wish they would take their stories as seriously as we do.

It feels to me like they don’t believe in themselves, and it makes me sad. Maybe they didn’t get the response they wanted from Ethersea and so they’ve been trying to pivot, hoping to recapture whatever it was that earned them a loyal audience.

Again, I love them. They’re so funny and I’ll keep listening until the day they stop making this show, and when it happens I’ll cry.

But i KNOW they have more in them. Remember the “we’ll grow gills” monologue from Justin in the Prologues? Remember Travis’s SOLID acting with Devo? Or his awesome choice to give Lyndon/Beef a clearly delineated work/irl identity? His excellent narration and prose? Remember when Montrose described being lonely?! Remember all those moments where Shit Got Real and you cared??? The nanofather said some dope shit! dracula and victor and sweater dracula had such a wild dynamic! Clint’s acting in Dust 2- I can’t remember the characters name right now- was ASTOUNDING, I genuinely didn’t know he had that in him and it blew me away!

I’m not referencing Balance on purpose, both because the fandom is way to hung up on it and because I want to prove that you don’t even have to look at Balance, or even Post-Balance arcs, to see this kind of good cool stuff!

GAAAAAAAGHHHH!!! I want them to have fun. But also. We’re starving out here.

[bomber-grl]

Enemies to lovers with Leo Valdez

Pairing(s): Leo Valdez x Gn!Reader

If anything it probs stemmed from a misunderstanding

Maybe you were cranky the first two times he ever approached you

And perhaps you may have taken it out on him

And maybe just maybe he thought u were those stereotypical condescending people

Basically what ensued from then on was just you two attacking each other verbally each time you ran into each other

But then you’re officially introduced to him by either Percy or Annabeth or anyone else that’s part of the 7 that’s close to you

He’d be especially shocked if it’s Piper or Jason who introduces you two to eachother

Of course that doesn’t automatically solve anything and you’re both total assholes to each other still

Leo is complaining about you and how could any of his friends also be yours?

You feel the same exact way

And unfortunately this is a case of forced proximity as is all my hcs because I’m an uncreative bitch

Maybe it’s just me but I’d imagine constant bickering and making faces would be a bit hard to ignore and go unnoticed

So they all agree to force you two to get along

So you’re on the Argo ll and are forced to clean the stables

(Before the Athena Parthenos is put there obv)

It’s not messy messy but it’s still something

You two both finally agreed to be quiet

But then he gets almost thrown out the window by the ship getting rocked by a monster or something

And so you have to save him by obligation

You two are literally hanging out the window and Leo is yelling like crazy bro

Eventually you bring him back and he thanks you

It was done reluctantly- you make sure he knows that

Plus the situation gives you material to make fun of him for 💀

Then some time after that you’re fighting some daily monsters and he (despite not rlly being a fighter) helps you out by firing some of the weapons on the Argo

This incident spawns this unspoken alliance??

Literally everyone else is made aware of it too and even they’re confused

But honestly at least you’re not constantly at each others throats anymore

Instances where you saved each others asses continued from then on out

It got to the point where you saved eachother so often that you became literal 4lifers

Like genuinely enjoying each other’s company despite the occasional off handed remarks

There was obvious tension that you were both teased for by your individual friends

Even couch Hedge acknowledged it 💀

And youd both deny it

I mean it was the obvious choice

But there had always been tension between you two if you’re being honest

Like if someone asked you if you thought Leo was cute , well let’s not say you’d say he was, just that you really couldn’t deny it

And so your interactions and dynamic continued all the way until the prophecy that started this quest came to an end

And so did you interacting with Leo

He was dead, and despite having liked him, you’d never be able to tell him.

That’s something you had come to accept, and something you realized you’d never get the chance to admit to him

Until you could.

Leo appears back at camp with Calypso in tow

Let’s just say Leo felt ok about her and saved her cuz he’s a good guy and she went along cuz she wanted an escape)

Anyway like everyone else you line up to hit him

Ain’t no way you’re running to him when there’s so many other ppl infront 💀

Gods forbid YOU end up being the one that gets jumped

Even from the good amount of distance you’re away from him you can still very much see his- what can be best as described- upset demeanor

Why he looked that way? You didn’t know and couldn’t tell even if held at gunpoint

Well anyways eventually you end up face to face with him and his expression can’t even be described with just a few words

So ill try anyway

Hes absolutely star struck and, in truth, made breathless from the sight of you alone

I mean with the way Leo looks at you, you’d think he spotted his only true want in this world.

The guy doesn’t say anything at all but then he sorta gains consciousness (?)

He tries to hug you but then hesitates- tries again/ then hesitates

Before he could do anything else you slap the hell out of him 💀

The act is honestly so violate and loud it was genuinely startling

Some would say that you jumped him that day of his return but what did they know??

And then you hugged him

A deep, emotionally charged hug

All the days you had spent mourning him, being tortured by his death that you couldn’t help but feel was avoidable despite the prophecy-

And yet you couldn’t help but melt into the hug

Obviously awkwardness follows after- and for a good while after too

But in the end you two end up together (per advice from emmie and Jo once Apollo casually mentioned the undefined relationship between you two as defense against a remark Leo had made)

And after Apollo is done at the waystation (and you’re not already involved there)Leo will ask if you’d want to stay there together and go to school and be “normal” teens.

The answer is up to you, but we all know what you’re gonna choose

Cmon you’re reading this so you’re obviously down bad 💀

[born-to-riot]

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: A/B/O, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it A/B/O (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional powder that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out four days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

[forest-hashira]

Naked in Osaka

hi friends! this is my submission for @pixelcafe-network's "challenge friday" that they do every other week! the prompt this week was a random song selected by shuffle, and my assigned song was "Naked In Manhattan" by Chappell Roan, and after a bit of debate (& some help from friends), i decided to go with shoko for this fic. it's a quick thing, but it was fun! i hope to write more for female characters in the future, and this was a good jumping off point 💜

read on ao3 | wc: ~2.6k | cw: gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, but implied fem reader based on song lyrics), alcohol consumption, making out, implied smut at the end (kinda?), implied first sapphic experience (thus the pride divider), shoko calls reader "cute", minor background stsg

“Please leave your message after the tone.” Beep.

“Hey Sho, I know you just landed, and I know you're probably busy, but I would love to see you, so call me when you can.” 

You sighed softly to yourself as you ended the call, tucking your cellphone into your pocket. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that you’d gotten Shoko’s voicemail – she’d been out of the country on a trip and had only just gotten back – but it was still a bit of a disappointment. You hadn’t been able to see her much since you’d graduated from Jujutsu High together, since you’d moved to Osaka just a few weeks later. She was good about returning your calls and texts, so you tried not to think about it too much.

Despite how infrequently you got to see your friend in person, she never really left your thoughts. In fact, you probably thought about her more than was normal. The two of you had been pretty close in school, spending a lot of your time together, especially when Gojo and Geto were off on missions or otherwise wrapped up in each other. You’d been friends with the boys too, of course, but your one on one time with Shoko was where you formed all your best memories of your school years. Around third year was when you realized your fondness for the other girl may have been more than just platonic, but you never allowed yourself to dwell on it or bring it up to Shoko, telling yourself it was no different than the way the boys felt or acted around each other, so there couldn’t be anything weird about it.

Then again, the boys had gone on to start dating after graduation, and last you’d heard they’d gotten engaged, so… Maybe it was worth revisiting those feelings again.

The sound of your phone ringing pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you saw Shoko’s contact picture – a slightly blurry selfie she’d sent you nearly a year ago while she was out getting drinks with her friends in Tokyo, her cheeks a little flushed and a soft smile tugging at her lips – on the screen, you felt your cheeks begin to burn, as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Shoko asked, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your conversations with her never really seemed to stop or start; instead, it was more like you’d been having one long conversation with her from the day you’d met.

“Nothing,” you told her, idly beginning to pace your room. “What’s up?”

“Figured I’d come see you if you were free. That okay?”

You bit your lip for a moment, suddenly feeling very flustered. “I-I, uh… Yeah! Yeah, that’s fine. That sounds great, actually.” It was obvious even to you that you were stumbling over your words, and you cringed slightly at how weird you sounded.

Shoko only chuckled quietly at you. “Careful,” she teased, “if you act too excited you might give me a bigger head than Gojo.”

That made you laugh. “As if that could ever happen.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, her words airy with laughter. “Does that udon place down the street from you still do carryout?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.”

“Cool. I’ll cover dinner if you’ll cover drinks.”

“Wine or sake?”

“Surprise me.”

She hung up without saying goodbye, though that wasn’t unusual. You glanced at the time, and though you knew you had a few hours before she’d be there even if she’d already been on the train when she called you, you already felt like you were running out of time for all the things you needed to do before she arrived. 

After a few moments of internal scrambling, you figured out a rough order of operations: popping into the liquor store to grab Shoko’s favorite wine, then a mad dash to make your apartment presentable, then finally a shower before she arrived. The trip to the store didn’t take very long, and you tucked the two bottles of wine you’d grabbed into your freezer to chill while you cleaned and got ready. 

Thankfully, your apartment wasn’t as much of a mess as you’d convinced yourself it was, so cleaning it didn’t take long at all, and you were able to hop in the shower within an hour of getting off the phone. The last thing you wanted was to smell when you saw your friend for the first time in over a year, and you knew you were sweating from nerves. It was ridiculous to be nervous about seeing her, you knew that, but this time felt different, somehow. Maybe it was because you’d been wondering earlier that day if you really did have feelings for Shoko.

Whatever the reason was, you were desperate not to smell like nervous sweats.

After thoroughly scrubbing yourself with your best-smelling body wash, you hurried to your bedroom to get dressed. Overwhelmed with options, you threw on some underwear and paced your room, feeling like a nervous teenager.

It’s just Shoko, you reminded yourself, sitting down on your rug. She’s not gonna care what you’re wearing as long as you’re wearing something. A soft groan escaped you then, and you flopped onto your back and covered your face with your hands.

Your pity party came to an abrupt end when your phone chimed. Pushing yourself up just enough to grab it from your bed, you saw a text from Shoko, letting you know her train was about to arrive, and that she’d be at your apartment in half an hour at most. 

The message made your heart flip in your chest. How long have I been laying here? How long was I in the shower?? Instead of letting her in on your internal panic, you shot back a simple “see you soon!” text, then leapt up from the floor, scrambling to find clothes that were comfortable but also somewhat presentable. Eventually you settled on a pair of pajama shorts and a loose t-shirt, then stepped into the bathroom to make sure your hair wasn’t a complete disaster.

You’d only just finished putting your hair out of your face in a way you were satisfied with when you heard a knock at the door. Heart skipping a beat again, you took a deep breath to steady yourself, then hurried to answer the door.

Shoko stood there with a small smile on her face, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and the takeout in her other hand. “Long time no see,” she greeted, stepping inside as you moved aside. “Is it cool if I go change real quick?” She set the takeout on your table as she spoke, then turned to you and arched a brow slightly.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get the drinks out and everything while you do that.”

Her smile widened the tiniest bit. “Perfect.”

She made her way to your bathroom with her overnight bag, and as she shut the door, you pulled a bottle of wine from the freezer and two glasses from the cabinet. They weren’t fancy, and they didn’t match, but you told yourself it was better than drinking out of plastic cups.

Once the glasses were out, you opened the bottle, pouring a fair amount into each of the glasses, though one had a bit more; Shoko’s tolerance had always been a bit higher than yours, so you were sure she would want to drink more than you did to make sure you had the same buzz. 

You had just started pulling the takeout from the bag when Shoko came back from getting changed, and your heart fluttered a bit when you saw her. She wore a tank top with a big picture of Gudetama in the middle and a pair of yellow shorts to match. It reminded you of the pajama sets Gojo had gotten everyone when you were in high school – Cinnamoroll for himself, Kuromi for Geto, Badtz-Maru for Shoko, and Keroppi for you – though you knew it wasn’t the same set from back then, since she wore a different character now. 

“You’re staring,” Shoko teased, bumping you lightly with her hip once she was standing beside you. “Do I really look that hot in my pajamas?”

Though her words left you feeling more than a little flustered, you just scoffed at her and rolled your eyes. “They remind me of the ones Gojo got us when we were in school, that’s all.” 

“He got me these ones, too,” she said with a small chuckle. “They were for my birthday last year.”

“Why’d he pick a different character than the one he picked when we were in school?”

“He said the penguin reminds him too much of Megumi now,” she said with a shrug, and you both laughed. You could see the resemblance too, though; both had the spiky black hair and the deadpan expression, and imagining Gojo telling the boy that nearly made you die laughing all over again, but you kept it to yourself for the moment.

Just as comfortable in your home as she was in her own, Shoko opened a few of your kitchen drawers, grabbing soup spoons and chopsticks for the both of you. “We should watch a movie while we eat.”

“What do you want to watch?” you asked curiously, carrying the takeout to your living room and setting it on your coffee table.

“What was that American movie we watched all the time in school?” she asked, following after you with the utensils and wine. “It was about those high school girls who wore pink.”

“Mean Girls?”

“Yeah, Mean Girls!” she grinned, setting everything down before sitting on the floor, gesturing for you to join her. “God, I don’t know how we never got sick of that movie.”

“Because Regina George was hot,” you replied without thinking about it.

The words drew a laugh from her, and she bumped you with her shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

A small, relieved chuckle left you at her teasing words. “I’m sure we could stream it somewhere if you wanna watch it again.”

“Please, I could use a good throwback.” She took a long sip from her glass, then opened the lid on her bowl of udon.

With a nod, you grabbed the remote for your TV, sipping from your own glass as you flipped through various streaming services looking for the movie. Eventually you found it, not even caring that you had to pay to watch it; it was worth it to have a night in with your friend, especially when you knew it would make her laugh and smile more.

Once the movie had started, you finally got into your own food. You smiled when you saw that Shoko had gotten your order perfect without even asking. She’d memorized it in school, but it made butterflies flutter in your stomach a bit to know that she’d never forgotten it, even after so much time apart.

For the most part it was quiet as you watched the movie, only the soft sounds of occasional slurping and the faint clinging noise of glass on glass when Shoko topped up your wine glasses. Every once in a while, one of you would make a small comment or joke, or you’d quote the lines along with the movie before bursting out laughing. It felt like being back in school, huddled in one of your dorm beds, sharing drinks from a flask shoko had managed to sneak on campus.

At some point, you set your glass down after finishing the contents. It had been your second glass – or maybe your second? Shoko had topped you up enough times that it was hard to be sure – and was enough to have everything feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. Leaning back against your couch, you turned your head towards the other woman, smiling to yourself as you watched her, rather than the movie.

She’s so pretty… even prettier than when we were in school. When did she get so pretty?

“I’ve always been this pretty.”

Shoko’s words startled you a bit, and though it took your brain a moment to catch up, you realized she was responding to your thoughts. Only… you must have said all of them out loud, rather than just in your head. The realization had your face burning with embarrassment. “Oh my god, Sho, I—”

“It’s okay,” she assured you with a smile. She settled into the same position as you, turning to face you a bit. “‘M glad you think I’m pretty. Always thought you were cute, too.”

The whole world came to a screeching halt around you. “…You did?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her words weren’t slurred, but you could see that her movements were loosened a bit from the wine. “Thought you knew that.”

“No, I… How would I have known? You never said anything.”

“I saw the way you looked at me. Thought you’d only look at me like that if you knew.”

You blinked, confused, and more than a little worried. “…How did I look at you?”

Her expression softened at that. “The same way I caught Gojo staring at Geto when Geto wasn’t looking, before they got together.”

The words sent a mixture of shame and hope swirling around your tipsy mind, and before you could really contemplate your next move, you heard yourself asking, “Can I kiss you?”

Shoko’s cheeks flushed a bit, and she nodded, shifting closer and wrapping her arm around your waist. Your eyes widened as she came into your space, and when you felt her breath on your lips, your own finally started cooperating with you again.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before.”

“I’ll teach you,” was Shoko’s only response before she kissed you. She was surprisingly warm, and it only took a second for your eyes to slip shut and for you to melt into her, returning her kiss eagerly. As she kissed you, everything else in the world faded away, the only sensation you were aware of was the feeling of her lips on yours.

It didn’t take long for her to press in closer, tilting her head a bit to deepen the kiss. Stumbling and a bit inexperienced, you did your best to move with her. She held you closer with the arm around your waist, her free hand coming up to cup your cheek, guiding your movements the tiniest bit. Time slowed and stretched out, the moment between you endless in the best possible way. You weren’t entirely sure when her tongue came into the mix, but next thing you knew you were parting your lips to let her in. 

A small sound escaped you as she deepened the kiss further, turning slightly to press you both into the couch a bit more. Still struggling to keep up because of the alcohol in your bloodstream, the movement threw you off a bit. Reluctantly, you pulled away for a moment, needing desperately to catch your breath. 

Shoko smiled down at you as you panted, faces only inches apart. “How was that for your first kiss with a girl?”

“I really wanna kiss you again.”

She laughed softly. “Is kissing all you wanna do tonight?” She arched a brow curiously, her thumb tracing your bottom lip lightly. 

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” you breathed, “but I'd love to learn.”

“Looks like I've got some teaching to do, then. Lesson one: kissing with tongue.” She leaned in again, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. You were more than willing to let her take the lead, though; there was no one else you’d rather have teach you everything, anyways.

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @redlikerozez @oceaneyesinla @pixelcafe-network @peachsukii

@dr-runs-with-scissors @entirelysein-e @teddybeartoji @sugurei @whatthefucksatan 

@lu-dao-writes @roselleviennesstuff @hayatoseyepatch

join my taglist!

[eir-trixa]

WOTTG SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT

.

.

.

Can you believe Rick is validating me in my Percy-is-the-most-empathic-character take? I have legal basis but boi does it feel nice to have canon confirmation.

Second that book was short af I got the gist of it all while reading for like an hour.

Third, we addressed everyone else’s trauma. Percy’s still the group therapist LMAO 😭😭😭

Fourth, my son is such a good kid yall, this is why I lose five years of my life when someone insults or when he insults himself jfc my child.

Im honestly still processing and I have to reread the ending. Did it address Percy’s issues? Im going to go with “a bit” and call it a night. I mean, I guess it did? Percy got to unload and help Gale and Hecuba. We got an insight to how he’s managing to stay up and fighting and good despite all the shit he’s put into. Honestly the fact that he saw the humanity in Gale and Hecuba, that he saw their pain and grief and thats what made them trust him, that is so good. And the way he related to them. Goodness. And it highlights again how good a person he is, how much he feels and cares. I mean, he cried cause he had to send Mrs O Leary away, I cant with this kid-

I supposed what Im left unsatisfied with is how he still perceives himself as dumb? Baby, you survived San Fran for two months as a homeless kid without memories and pursued by different monsters who cant die. Youre the furthest thing from dumb.

He cant see this of course and while it was slightly addressed(?) by Annabeth telling him to his face that she doesnt give him enough credit, that he’s pretty smart, I dont think thats enough for addressing this particular issue. There was a time in the middle that he almost snapped because he thought Annabeth probably thinks him too dumb to know what to do next. Which I understand is frustrating to him. But to be fair this book made him look at Annabeth for a solution a lot. Theres also little comments about how when he cant think of anything - which is every 60 seconds apparently according to him- he looks at Annabeth. This doesnt help the co dependent allegations LMAO. Idk, I will die on the Hill that Percy is one of the smartest people in the series, not just emotionally but also in strategy. And theres, of course, nothing wrong with looking at the genius strategist for answers. Ive mixed feelings because definitely this is more of a Percy-insecurity issue than an Annabeth-being-bossy issue. But okay. One more book, heres to hoping we get more heart to heart on that front because Im 999998% sure she doesnt mean to make him feel stupid, Percy’s just got a lot of demons to fight but this in particular they need to figure out together. Still, its obvious how much they care for each other still. If only Dave and Hana did not piss me off at the start Id probably be a little more lenient about this.

Annabeth’s fatal flaw also makes a comeback, we love to see it.

And Sally Estelle Jackson. Now we have to find out wth is Percy’s middle name cause if Sally has one odds are she gave her son too. Trust me. Im Filipino. Iykyk.

Lastly, while I will forever and ever and ever support the trio from pjotv (theyre perfect and have done nothing wrong ever) I can see Rick’s injecting their personalities into the books. Im not sure if he does this on purpose or just subconsciously LMAO. Some of Grover’s dialogue is definitely inspired by Aryan. Percy being Lanky? Walker through and through, especially with his growth spurt lmao, and Annabeth’s confidence? All Leah. I can see what Rick’s trying to do. Ive no opinion on this, just pointing it out. I do love love love the live action. Just. I can see you Rick. You aint slick.

So there. I probably would need to reread the book properly at some point.

[seedlings-stuff]

Should Have Been There

Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Tags: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count: 1540

Warnings: violence, blood, injury, weapons

Hello! This is my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction so please let me know what you think! I love hurt/comfort but this really just turned into hurt/alittlebitofcomfort

As the night descended on the streets of Birmingham, (Y/N) hastily made her way back home. She didn’t mean to be out by herself at this hour, but Tommy was supposed to pick her up from her flat soon and the fastest way home took her straight through a slightly darker area of town. 

She knew the streets like the back of her hand by now, preferring to travel by foot, but the shadows cast by the evening light made the alleyways appear almost distorted as she paced home. There seemed to be fewer people on the streets than usual for the time; she had only passed a couple of men since she left her shift at the Garrison. Despite this, (Y/N) struggled to ignore the uncomfortable gnaw in her stomach that grew with each step.

As she walked, the bite of the cold evening air grew, and she wrapped her coat tighter around her body. Her anxiety briefly gave way to excitement as she remembered she’d be seeing Tommy soon. He was taking her to the pictures this evening, and she had spent all morning poring over her wardrobe, struggling to decide which dress would be more appropriate for their first official date. 

As she turned a familiar corner, she breathed a sigh of relief - only a few more blocks until she was home. Momentarily lost in thought, (Y/N) was torn from her daydream as she spotted a figure ahead of her. She continued ahead, albeit slowly; she was surprised she hadn’t noticed him earlier. The figure took a step towards her. (Y/N) stopped. The feeling of dread returned with a force as she evaluated her situation. She suddenly regretted walking home alone but rationalised that he was probably just another drunk man roaming the streets at twilight. 

Then she heard a faint shuffling behind her. She walked faster, and her breath quickened. Were those footsteps? She couldn’t tell if they were real or imagined. A voice cut through the silence.

“Hello, love.” 

(Y/N) spun around to face whoever spoke to her. She couldn’t see anyone. (Y/N) stood for a moment, peering into the shadows before a whistling from the end of the alleyway prompted (Y/N) to turn back to where the stranger stood, but he had disappeared. Frozen in panic, (Y/N) could hear the thumping of her heart grow louder as she noticed the path ahead was now clear. Immediately, she sprung forward, moving towards the end of the alleyway; she knew that she would be safe once she made it onto the illuminated street beyond the alley.

Suddenly, (Y/N) was yanked backwards, and two strong hands gripped her arms. Another hand clasped over her mouth, muffling her scream. Reflexively, she bit into the flesh, eliciting a cry from behind her. “She fucking bit me!” cried one of the men as she screamed out before another stronger hand clamped over her mouth. 

(Y/N) felt the back of her head connect with brick as she was shoved backwards, the two men now pinning her against the wall as she thrashed against their grip. She continued to scream through the rough hand over her mouth, but unlike the first, the second man wasn’t fazed by her attempts at injuring him. She took a breath and forced herself to calm down and focus on their faces.

Craning her head to the side, she was pleased to find fresh scratches on the man on her left, his wounded hand continuing to drip fresh blood as he held her against the wall. When he realised she had calmed down, the other stronger man stepped before her. He stunk of alcohol; sweat covered his brow, eyes as dark as coal. (Y/N) tried to find the place where she had seen him before. 

“Now you see, no one is coming to save you.” He sneered, releasing his hand from her mouth. 

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” (Y/N) whimpered, although she recognised the man as soon as he spoke. She had seen him as Arthur kicked him out of the Garrison the week before; apparently, some kind of meeting gone wrong. Tommy had warned her to steer clear. 

“It’s none of your business”, he grunted. “I’m just sending a message. Tell your boss, Mr Shelby, that he-” Before he could finish, (Y/N) instinctively kneed him in the groin. He gasped, momentarily stunned. She seized the opportunity, breaking free from the wall. But the second man reacted fast, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her back.

“Guess you want to do this the hard way,” the first man spat, pushing her harder against the wall. A punch slammed into her ribs, sharp pain radiating through her body as she gasped.

“We might even deliver you right to his doorstep, but don’t worry, we won’t touch your pretty face too much.” Still reeling in pain, (Y/N) sucked in a gasp of air as he shoved her head back into the hard brick. Warmth dripping down the back of her neck alerted her to the severity of her situation as the edges of her vision began to go blurry. Sensing her drop in consciousness, the man gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. 

“Hey darling, now don’t go off to sleep just yet… we’ve got so much more to talk about.” He stroked her cheek, and she saw a glint of metal out of the corner of her eye. She felt the other man press the cold blade to her neck. “You better stay awake”.

(Y/N) braced herself as another fist connected with her ribs. She tried to stifle her cry this time, the knife remaining threateningly near. (Y/N) knew that she had one more chance to get ahead of them before her wavering vision betrayed her. As the man before her twisted to prepare another heavy blow, (Y/N) summoned every ounce of strength. She lunged for the knife pressed to her neck, twisting it from the second man’s grip.

Before they could react, she slashed at the arm coming toward her. He screamed, stepping back in shock as blood poured from the deep gash. Without hesitation, (Y/N) turned to the other man, driving the knife into his neck.

Time slowed as he stumbled back, hands reaching up towards the blade as he crumpled backwards.

(Y/N) turned away in shock to find she was alone with this dying man in the alleyway. Her other attacker had managed to flee into the shadows. Part of her wanted to reach out and comfort the man, while the other half knew that the stranger could return at any moment. (Y/N) looked once more at the body on the ground and then up to the end of the alleyway. She needed to make it home. 

~

Tommy was late. He cursed under his breath as he approached (Y/N)’s flat, knowing she’d likely been waiting for him. Knocking on her door, he listened for her response but heard nothing. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

“(Y/N)?” he called, peering through the small window. The living room was dark and still. Reaching for the door, his heart raced as he found it unlocked. Withdrawing his hand, he saw blood on the handle. 

“(Y/N)?!” He shouted as he barged into the flat, frantically searching for any sign of an intruder. Immediately, his eyes went to the slumped figure on the couch. 

“Tommy…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He rushed to her side, cradling her face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the fury boiling inside him. “What happened?” Rough hands delicately caressed her face as he surveyed her injured frame. “(Y/N), fuck! What happened?” His emotions threatening to spill over, he changed his approach. “I’m here; it’s okay”, he breathed as he attempted to sit her up, her head slumping forward. Softly holding her up, he touched the back of her head. “(Y/N), please…” he urged, noting the blood at the base of her skull.

“The man from your meeting… he said he needed to send you a message…” Her words were slurred, and her eyes fluttered.

A wave of guilt crashed over him. He should have been there. He felt her weight shift as she leaned against him, pulling him back to reality. Tommy’s arms gently held her as she fell forward, sinking them to the ground.

“Stay with me, (Y/N),” he begged, his eyes tracing over her frail body, taking in the extent of her injuries. 

Tears filled her eyes. “I think I killed him…”

His breath caught. “You did what you had to do.”

“The other one… he got away…”

(Y/N) could see an unfamiliar glimmer of fear in Tommy’s eyes. “We need to tell Arthur, we need to get you somewhere—Polly’s. I’m so sorry. I should have met you at work; I should have never let you walk home without-” he paused as he felt her trembling hand clasp his. He squeezed it back. 

“Tommy,” she whispered. “You’re here now”.

[hyunteru]

red lips - k. kenma

in which a famous streamer goes live with his girlfriend for a well known challenge— the buldak noodle challenge

pairing: kozume kenma x f!reader

tags/warnings: just cute fluff, cursing, established relationship, timeskip, written in 2nd point of view, reader’s spice tolerance isn’t that good

“Hey guys, kozuken here with—“

“Me! hi chat!” Kenma couldn’t help but smile as he watched you reveal yourself on stream, waving happily at the camera as everyone settled into the stream and started spamming the chat box with comments and greetings. He doesn’t know how you somehow convinced him into doing this challenge with you. He remembers watching people do that stupid cinnamon challenge years ago and judging them for putting straight powder in their mouth, now here he is. In front of millions about to eat the world known “spiciest noodles ever.”

“Alright so— today we have the uhh…buldak hot chicken flavour ramen” Kenma starts off as he holds the empty package on the screen, to save time, the noodles were already cooked and “evenly” separated into two bowls, courtesy of you. “And i guess the challenge is to finish the bowl without literally dying or having to get milk”

“it smells and looks pretty good though” you observe as you take a hold of the bowl and use your chopsticks to mix them around a bit, keeping out the part where your eyes literally started watering when the hot steam hit your face the first time you added the sauce into the pot. “Yeah, nothing more appetizing than literal red.. orange looking noodles that burns my nose” Kenma says sarcastically as you roll your eyes playfully with a smile “You’re only saying that because you held the pot right up to your nose and smelled it!” “Did i?” laughter fell between you too as you playfully jabbed his side and he tried swatting your hand away.

It’s not like you hated spice, you tried to build up your tolerance but that always ended up in runny noses and ice cream. Kenma on the other hand didn’t care for it much. In general, he never liked trying new things. He stuck to what he knew and avoided trying things he knew he wouldn’t like. Despite that, you somehow convinced him to try these “viral” noodles that were going around the internet. People were good at faking reactions for views or money so you (and admittedly, him) were curious as to if these noodles were as “bad” as they seemed. Plus, it’s not like he could ever say no to you.

You held up the bowl to the camera as you pulled the noodles up with your chopsticks, displaying the red fiery noodles to the screen. “Oh by the way i added the whole sauce packet— you know? for the whole experience?” you added on as you retracted the bowl from the camera and held it in your hands as you looked at your boyfriend. You can tell by his face that he wasn’t excited or happy at that at all— Kenma wasn’t very good at hiding his distasteful face. “Of course you did” he huffs out as he grabs his bowl too and held his chopsticks, but there was no malice in his voice whatsoever. You were right anyways, if you’re gonna do some food challenge you might as well go all or nothing.

“Cheers!” You smiled as you took a generous amount into your mouth, Kenma watching you as he took a more cautious bite instead. “Oh wow— it’s actually pretty good” you say as you nod and look at your boyfriend as you continued chewing, but as you continued chewing the flavour intensified more and the burning feeling finally started to rest on your tongue. Kenma was already sweating in his merch hoodie, feeling the spice going down his throat and out his nose as he thinned his lips out and tried not to show a huge display of a reaction. Both of you in silence as you looked at each other, waiting for the other one to break. There was never an agreement on what the “winner” would get but you’re sure it would just be bragging rights, that and the fact that his whole chat would witness it.

The spice was hitting you in the back of your throat, making your mouth secrete more saliva to try to get rid of the burning sensation. Your resolve was falling but so was his, so now it was just a battle of endurance. Your eyes flickered to the glass of milk on the table and back at your boyfriend, a taunting push to see if he would break but he kept his composure and flickered his eyes to the milk glass as well and smirked lightly. “How are you holding in there?” Kenma teases as he looked at you, trying to ignore the way the spice was coming up again as he talked. “Great— just great.. i’m fine.. yeah” you resort, trying to convince yourself otherwise but you were sweating like crazy and the room felt much hotter than it was 10 minutes ago. You silently cursed at yourself for taking such a confident bite at the beginning. Watching too many mukbangs gave you some sort of will and determination that it wouldn’t be as bad, but obviously that’s coming to bite you in the ass now.

Kenma spent years with you, learning your body language and different behaviours. He knows you were fighting to not break by the way you were gripping your knees and occasionally wiping your palms against your pants. He knows you’re sharing the same burning feeling in his mouth and it definitely wasn’t pleasant. Kenma also knew how absolutely stubborn you are, but this spice wasn’t the good type of spice— no, this spice was burning and it felt like his taste buds were shrivelling up in real time. If Kenma was with Kuroo or anyone else, he would suck it up and hang in there to play to long game until the other person gives up. His dignity was too precious to risk and his competitive nature would’ve kicked in. But this was you, and god he loved you so much.

He reached over to the table and took the glass of milk and swallowed it down, the moment you saw him basically surrender, you reached over to grab your own glass and swallowed down the cooling liquid as well. Feeling the instant relief to the burning that once surrounded your mouth. You were honestly surprised that Kenma was the one to back down, you were sure that he was gonna just bite his tongue and hang in there. But, you weren’t gonna complain anyways. Panting lightly as you lowered the glass and finally feeling your body cool down, you look over at your boyfriend who equally looked relieved. He reached over with a napkin and wiped your lips that were covered in the sauce from the noodles, you didn’t even notice the burning on your lips because you were too focused on everywhere else. “Feeling better?” “Mhm— and i feel even more better knowing i just beat you!” Kenma smirked at that as he flicked your forehead “You want ice cream? there’s some in the freezer—“ You didn’t even waste a second to get up and immediately leave the room, basically cutting him off as you rushed out.

Kenma watched you leave with a fond smile, when you were out of sight he moved the two bowls aside and cleared his table a bit as he looked at his chat that were flooding with messages. “What do you mean i let her win, chat?” he says, acting clueless as he leans back on his chair. His eyes skimmed through the messages that kept coming in “What can i say? my girlfriend is just that much better” he says sincerely. He didn’t need to admit out loud how absolutely smitten he was with you, everything showed in his actions. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out how in love with you he is. And he was absolutely okay with that.

m.list

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 19 . It’s Only Responsibility

a/n: omg my fav chapter is finally here. i was so giddy when writing this lol

tags: low-key yandere behavior from Cale, implied torture, if Cale says what he feels is irritability then it's irritability goddammit

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

Cale feels as though he can’t get a good grasp on his emotions these days. In particular, he feels as though he feels intense emotions when _____ is thrown into the mix.

Maybe it’s because he feels accountable as he willingly took in the healer.

He doesn’t know when it started, he only noticed he felt that when back at the Gyerre Territory. It was the afternoon after he had destroyed a human trafficker’s house, just before he talked with Antonio. Ron reported that he had finished investigating the Perduellios.

“Young master, this old man took a stroll there and I must say that it’s very filthy. It looks clean from a certain distance but there are rats everywhere once you look closely. No wonder healer-nim grew up with a weak body. Someone like them does not fit that place.”

The redhead didn’t say anything but the servant could tell his listening to every word. 

The young master’s eyes don’t lie after all. 

And right now those eyes are filled with anger. 

Unmeasurable Anger

To the point it made the servant do a double-take.

Despite Cale’s brewing anger he still does everything according to plan. He doesn’t let out a single ounce of that anger until later when his talking to Alberu.

“Your Highness, the future shining sun of the Roan Kingdom. No one is as bright as you. Just seeing your face, even through a communication device, brightens my night and brings me hope for tomorrow.”

“Just tell me what you want. Is it another golden plaque? But you still have some.”

“Not this time your highness.”

Alberu was taken aback at the serious expression on the redhead’s face.

“As you already know, the Perduellios were working with the Chryshis. I trust your highness to handle the Gyerres and the Chryshis. However…”

“You want to handle the Perduellios.”

“We really are alike your highness.”

Alberu already saw this coming so he instantly agreed.

“I’ll allow it on the condition that they must stay in Aunt Tasha’s dungeon. Speaking of Aunt Tasha, she said she also wants a piece.”

“Then I shall be generous enough to share.”

Cale himself isn’t sure how he had the time to meet that bastard family. Between the war against the Indomitable Alliance. Fighting Arm and the Empire, and teaching the nobles a lesson Cale still managed to find free time to visit the Perduellios.

Must be the power of unmeasurable anger.

“Beacrox, Raon prepare to move quietly tonight. We’ll be meeting Tasha.”

The two are confused as to why, but Cale did not explain. He doesn’t need to as they instantly understand after seeing who’s inside the cell they are visiting.

“Young master Cale shouldn’t _____-nim be here?”

Cale looked at Tasha as if she said the most outrageous thing ever. Meanwhile, in the background, Beacrox is preparing his tools as Raon supplies information as to what the healer went through.

“Why would they be here when I’m doing this to relieve stress? I’m here to act trash, that’s not something an unofficial holy maiden should see.”

The next morning Alberu regrets taking a peak before the cell was cleaned up. He doesn’t think he can light up any of his beloved candles for at least a week.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Succeeding that incident, the next time Cale was overtaken by his emotions was after Operation Reflection. Unlike the last time, Cale felt two conflicting emotions this time.

Skyrocketing Pride and Plumeting Disgust

_____ was a core player during the navy battle and that made the redhead proud. Of course, he was also proud of everyone else in their group.

…but perhaps his a bit more proud of the healer.

However, it was only because they had come a long way. As Cale’s responsibility, his proud that the healer is doing better under his guidance.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Human, those useless noble bastards were also talking bad about our _____ when you left. Some of them even had the nerve to directly yell at them. I wanted to smack them, but you told me to not do anything to those people for now so I didn't."

But then Raon’s report came.

Pride had been washed over by disgust.

Good thing _____ had talked him out of doing anything rash.

“Cale it’s okay. People who only know how to leech off other people are not worth your time.”

Did he mention how proud he is of how far _____ has come? Because he really is.

However, rumours say that it was the night after that when Cale first ‘visited’ the Perduellios.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Cale’s next overwhelming emotion is something his already familiar with. He already felt it back when they were in the Whipper Kingdom.

In fact, he has already associated this feeling with the healer.

Heart Palpitating Distress

But this time it feels more intense. Cale feels as if his heart is going to crawl out of his chest and into his mouth.

Thump!!

Thump!!

The redhead had been acting as though nothing was wrong ever since they finished the battle at Castle Leona. Contrary to his calm exterior, the redhead is a mess on the inside.

A wound, a stab wound with a lot of blood gushing.

Just inches near _____ heart.

And Cale has a strong gut feeling that it was _____’s own doing.

Seeing the copious amount of blood they lost was already bad enough. Seeing the nasty wound itself when they had to change the bandages was worse.

Then as if that isn’t enough to send Cale into a coma, the healer had the audacity to stand up not even 12 hours after their injury.

It was at that moment the commander made a conscious choice of sticking the healer to him like velcro.

+~+~+~+~+~

Nowadays, Cale is not ping-ponging between his emotions like a madman. But he did notice that he tends to feel a particular emotion these days.

Jealo– Irritability

Cale isn’t sure why he feels irritated, but he does. He feels irritated as soon as _____ woke up and started talking to Bud.

What happened during the week he was gone that those two are all friendly now?

And what was that? Bud is going to teach _____ how to drink?

Not on Cale’s watch.

It’s one thing for him if _____ themself wants to try drinking, but he won’t let the healer be coerced by some fool.

“Ron, separate those two as much as possible. That drunkard is nothing but a nuisance to _____.”

For a moment Cale got the chills when he heard Ron chuckle. It doesn’t help that the kids are laughing too. Regardless, it looks like the servant will heed his request so he lets it be.

But his jea– irritability doesn’t end there.

The next victim of Cale’s so-called irritable mood was this poor servant in Mogoru.

When Cale got back to Mogoru he unfortunately had to leave _____ back in the castle. There are too many undercover missions they have to do. And while _____ is much better than Choi Han at undercover missions, that man is a lot of things but an actor is not one of them, Cale isn’t cruel enough to make them take on such a taxing mission after being sick.

So he leaves the healer in the Mogoru Castle with Rosalyn and the others. 

“Young master-nim what about assigning a dedicated servant for healer-nim?”

Was Rosalyn’s suggestion after Cale mentioned _____’s tendency to overwork themself.

It seemed like a good idea, therefore they arranged for the healer to have a servant. The servant’s job would consist of making sure the Medicus is eating and resting properly. That servant would also act as _____’s assistant, taking care of whatever the healer needs.

At that time, Cale was satisfied with that plan.

That satisfaction quickly changed when he visited Adin’s room, (well, it’s practically _____ and Cale’s room now) and saw how the healer kept calling the servant’s name. In the beginning, it was fine, Cale didn’t mind it. But then he noticed how _____ seems to call for that servant every 5 sentences they utter.

Honestly? Even Cale knows his acting irrationally this time.

Did he care though? Of course not. Since when did trash care for another person’s feelings?

So he stationed that servant far away.

“Raon make a call in the underground villa. I must talk to Hans”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ignoring Hannah’s snickering that turned into full-blown laughter, Cale called Hans over to assist the healer.

Because if the healer is going to rely on someone who’s not Cale, then it might as well be one of his people.

This one is a totally logical decision on Cale’s end. It’s not because of his jea– irritability.

It’s definitely just part of him being responsible over _____.

[thevanillerose]

LEATHER | DABI x BLIND!READER | MY HERO ACADEMIA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Coarse. Soft. Plush. Hard.

Your world was defined by these words. It always had been. Blind from birth, you were used to being steeped in darkness, but because you had never known anything different, it wasn't something that made you feel bad. If anything, you weren't sure why people felt so sorry for you. Why they would express such pity towards you when they found out about your affliction.

You were getting on just fine, right? So truly...there were people out there who were far more deserving of their well meant concerns than you were. You didn't need anyone to worry over you.

Perhaps the only thing you wished you could have sight for was to know what you looked like. Somehow your parents were a perfect image in your mind, it was as if you could envision them anyway, despite your own impairment. When it came to you personally though, well...you didn't have the faintest clue.

Were you ugly? Pretty? People always claimed it was the latter, but how were you to know if they were lying or not? There was truly no way of telling.

So that was maybe the one thing that did bother you. The rest of it though, you could deal with. You would be alright.

In fact, you were so brave with it that you would walk home alone at any time of night, no qualms about it. Sure, there had been talk of a mysterious killer on the loose lately, but the most you had heard were vague rumors that you strongly doubted held any actual water.

Like hell you were going to get scared!

Once again, you were out in the early hours. Your senses were always on max settings anyway, so if someone happened to be pursuing you, you would pick up on it in a split. However, it wasn't what lay behind you that you needed to worry about.

A few steps forward, and suddenly you bumped into something. Staggering backwards, you immediately registered that it was a person, and instantly doubled over into a respectful bow of apology. “Sorry! Excuse me...I didn't see you there...” It was quite amusing to use a line like that, given that it was rarely so literal.

The fellow turned and cast his piercing turquoise eyes upon you, observing you in silence. The air was immediately tense.

Dabi hadn't been expecting you to run into him out of nowhere. The streets were usually quiet at this time, he'd go looking for trouble in certain spots sure, but those were usually the obvious ones, like your sketchy backwater nightclubs and 'massage parlors'.

One look at you, and he was confused. “...What are you doing out here alone?”

Male...I figured. Judging by his voice...he's probably around my age...

 “I...I usually come out at any time, really. I was just picking up some supplies-”  You held up the plastic bag filled with goodies from the 24 hour mart. He stared at it for a moment, before letting his eyes flicker back to you again.  “It's dangerous.”

 “Well-” you lowered the bag and shrugged, “-I know that's what they say but...if I stayed inside just because I was scared, it would be like handing over control to whatever bad guys are out there. It would be like they were already winning.”

 He quirked a black brow. Interesting take.

 “...You're brave.”  You heard him take a few steps forward, around your side, behind you. Shuddering, you could sense his fingertips gliding ever so lightly against the back of your shoulder, across the nape of your neck and to your other arm.   “How do you know you've not just run into an enemy though?”

 Well now you were really wondering.    “...Because...you're standing out here on the pavement, right by the road. People like that usually lurk in the shadows...”  “It's dark enough out here though.” he stated, as he circled around to your front again, and you could sense him standing closer than before, “There's nobody else around...no cameras watching...just you and me. I could get away with anything.”

 Now the fear was setting in. He was certainly talking like a killer...so could he really be? You swallowed uneasily and tried to step around him, but his hand caught your side and pushed you back, prompting you to drop the bag as you jolted. Those cartons of chocolate milk you'd bought were scattered.

 “Please, I don't want any trouble!” you insisted, and he tilted his head.  “Maybe you should have watched where you were going. Maybe you shouldn't have been walking out alone at night.”  “I-I'm entitled to!”  “So am I.”

 “...You're the killer they've been talking about?”  “Maybe.”

 This was insane. Even you felt like you were being reckless now. However, you needed to find some way to excuse yourself or run from him. You'd worry about calling the police when you were somewhere safe.  Then again, what would you even tell them?

 “Look...I...if you let me go I won't say a word...” you promised, but he simply scoffed.  “Yes you will, don't lie. You're going to file a police report at the first chance you get.”  “No! No I won't because, because I wouldn't even be able to in the first place!”  “...And what is that supposed to mean? You've seen my face, my location, I basically admitted to you that I'm the killer. Of course you can file a report.”

 “...” Telling him this seemed like as much of a bad idea as a good one...but you would do it.

 “...I...I don't know what you look like. I can't see you.”  There was a long pause. Dabi stared at you, blinking a few times, before leaning in just a little bit.  “...Excuse me?”  “I-I said I can't see you. Because I'm blind.”

 That threw him for a total loop. He hadn't been expecting it. Though now that he really looked at you, he supposed that your eyes weren't really focusing on anything in particular, and they certainly weren't looking at him. So, well, he believed it.

 What now?

 “...Okay. So you're blind. I suppose that...removes the problem for me.”  “A-are you still going to kill me?” you dared to ask, and there was another frightening pause, before he sighed.  “...No...There's little point in it. Just another mess I'd have to clean up.”

 Instantly you were almost bowled over by a wave of relief.  “Th-thank you!” you gasped out, and quickly crouched down to find the items you'd dropped. Dabi watched you fumbling for a moment, your hand patting the ground as it tried to find what it was looking for.  

 He didn't quite know why. Perhaps there was just something tender about you, either way, he ended up crouching down to pick up the carton.

 At the very moment he reached out though, so too did you, and for a split second, your knuckles brushed.

 Instantly you recoiled and gasped. What you'd just touched, it was unexpected.  “What was that??”  “Hm? Oh right...you can't see it.” Dabi sighed and put the carton back in the bag but remained crouching there in front of you, examining his own hand. “...My skin isn't really what you'd call regular.”

 Admittedly, you were curious. He seemed to be behaving more calmly and rationally right now too. Would it really be so bad if you asked?

 “May I...touch it again?”    “Huh?” Dabi quickly looked at you, brow furrowing. “...Why?”  “Because I...I suppose I'm just curious. I won't if it bothers you...I've just...never felt anything like that before.”

What am I doing? What am I doing!? This guy's a killer!!   ...Why am I being nice to him?

 Perhaps the better question would have been vice versa. For Dabi actually conceded, brushing your hand with his again and allowing you to gently run your fingers up his wrist. You didn't even know his name, and yet you were crouched on the ground with him, caressing his arm and feeling how rough, tight the skin was...like it had been burned to a crisp.

 “...What happened to you?” you had to ask him, noticing there were hard staples plastered in there too, as if he were some zombie that had been stitched up. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached up with both hands this time, laying them gently against his cheeks and cupping his face.

 His jaw was much the same. It felt similar, like he was damaged. But you could tell his face wasn't unpleasant. He had a good structure, you could tell-  “What are you doing?”  His voice suddenly sounded, a little sternly so, and his hands took your wrists just to guide them down again. Hesitating, you lowered your head.

 “I'm sorry...I act a little rash sometimes...”  “...It's fine. I can tell.” he uttered, but he hadn't let you go just yet. “...But I think I'd rather know about you. How did you become blind?”

 This was such an odd situation to be in. Confessions on a dirty pavement, and confessions to a supposed killer no less. What if you said the wrong thing and he just ended you right here and now? This scarred man did seem to have a cold disposition...but for some reason...you wanted to open up to him anyway.

 “I didn't really 'become' blind, I've been like this from birth.” you explained, and though you couldn't see it of course, his eyes widened.  “...Oh?”

 “Yeah, so...hah...I don't even know what I look like. Sometimes I imagine I must be the scariest thing walking around out here.”

 Dabi's hands slowly slipped away, making you worry. He laid them in his own lap, and watched you. The concerned emotions flickering across your face, like you were suddenly fearful you'd admitted too much. You were obviously nervous around him, but it was like you didn't want to deter him either.

Is he really the killer? I want to run, and yet...I don't.

 His hand slowly extended towards you again. That unmistakable touch against the skin of your cheek, as he let it rest against your face. You could feel his thumb, gently rubbing in a circle. Your hammering heartbeat slowly calmed. You found yourself sinking against his palm.

 “You're a curious one. A bit of a weirdo.” he added, and cracked a smile you couldn't see. Maybe you somehow knew it was there regardless.

 “But...you're pretty too.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!