#there's not a lot of fluffy shit in this one whoops sorry?????

[valley-of-headcanons]

Heyy! So I just found your stuff and it’s all super cute I love this kind of thing 😊 feel free to decline but do you think you could do a little fluffy one shot type thing where you’re just gaming with Sebastian and then whoops you both fall in love 😳

best gamer of all time || sebastian x reader oneshot

hanging out with your friends is always fun, but gaming alone with him may be your new favorite thing <3

warnings: fluff fluff fluff fluff oh my god, you may suck at this game but you do NOT suck at winning his heart

requested by: @juleboo , this is such an adorable request! i'm sorry this took like forty billion years, life has decided to kick me off my feet, but im doing a lot better so yippeeeee. i hope you enjoy, hopefully it was worth the long wait 🙏

Hanging out on a Saturday night was a ritual for you, Sebastian, Abigail, and Sam. You all rotate on who's place you hang out at, and tonight was Sebastian's. Abigail was laid out on the couch, Sebastian sitting on his bed, and you and Sam were on the floor. After a very intense game of Jackbox, with a lot of chaotic answers and laughter, it was nearing midnight.

“I cannot believe you put that! That was a direct jab at me and you know it!” Sam said towards Abigail's direction, obviously not actually upset.

“Then clean up the fuckin' pizza boxes in your room! That rat would've become your best friend if your mom didn't find him- wait- what time is it? ... oh shit, my dad is gonna kick my ass!” Abigail said, jumping up at lightning speed and grabbing her bag. “Sorry to kill the party, love you guys, if I get lectured one more time this week I am going to pull out my hair. Bye bye!”

And off she goes, leaving just as chaotic as she came. Sounds about right. The remaining three of you laughed, before Sam stood up and grabbed his things as well. “For some reason Mom wants me to come to church in the morning, she saw some lyrics to one of our songs and she kind of flipped her shit. Soooo, gotta atone for my sins. Have fun you two,” he said, sending a small wink Sebastian's way before making his way up the stairs.

You saw the wink, it definitely caught you off guard. You immediately snapped your head towards Sebastian. “What was that for?” you said with a smirk, which wasn't held for long. It slipped into a smile, moving from the floor to the now empty couch.

Sebastian's expression remained neutral, rolling his eyes. “Sam is always up to something, ignore him. Do you wanna stay and hang for a little while? I don't have anything to do tomorrow,” he said, looking towards the cabinet of games that sat beside his gaming console. He never asked anyone to stay later, especially when it's his night to host. He usually wants everyone out, Sebastian cherishes his alone time.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach when he asked you this, he actually wanted to spend more time with you? You felt so honored and special, of course you were going to stay. “Yeah, what did you wanna do?”

“I bought a game, it's co-op. Wanna try it out? It's a platformer, it seems pretty easy,” he said, walking over to the cabinet and grabbing the case. He made his way back over to you, showing you the back of the case, carefully studying your features. He wanted to make sure you were actually interested, and when your face lit up, he couldn't hold back a smile. It was rare for him, but it was perfect.

“Hell yeah, let's pop this bad boy in!” you said, sitting up excitedly and scooting over so that you two could share the couch. After 'popping that bad boy in', he sat next to you and handed you the controller.

Sebastian put on the tutorial before beginning to show you the controls. He described what to do, but due to your drowsiness from working all day, you just couldn't grasp what the controls were. “Here,” he mumbled, thinking for a moment before carefully putting his hands over yours.

“Alright, shoot with this button, alright?” he said, making sure not to get too close to you. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but these little touches were really nice ... he could get used to this.

“Mhm ...” you hummed, although your brain was short-circuiting. Every single thought in your brain was rendered useless in that moment, every place where you two touched felt like it was on fire. You clumsily tried to recreate his movements, shooting when he asked and jumping when he instructed. You learned the controls, but barely.

“Got it?” he said simply, slowly beginning to let go of you. He didn't really want to, but he didn't want to overstep your boundaries. He really cared about you, he didn't want to jeopardize that.

With a hesitant nod of confirmation, you two began the game. It was a mess, you definitely did not grasp the controls whatsoever. However, he enjoyed seeing what kind of trouble you got yourself into. How could you even get up there?

“Okay- when you jump, press the trigger to latch on to that cliff, and do NOT let go-” he tried to explain as you jumped with all of your might ... just to not even touch the cliff. Your body hit the floor with a splat, and you both sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at each other. Small snickers turned into full blown laughter, falling down onto the couch as you both held your faces.

“How the hell am I so stupid?? That was so easy! How the hell did I miss that??” you cackled, wiping the tears that began to fall from your eyes.

“I have no idea but it was one of the best things I've ever seen,” Sebastian's laughter began to quiet as he sat up, his gaze making its way down to you. You looked so perfect in the soft light of the television, so happy from the laughter that was encasing the both of you. He could not stop smiling.

“What?” you said softly, a gigantic grin on your face. You couldn't move, you just wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“... nothing. Just ... capturing this moment,” Sebastian said in a gentle tone, taking a deep breath before looking back at the screen. “You're a ghost now, but you can still help me and eventually I can revive you.”

You slowly sat up, but you had an idea. You slid a little closer to him than you were before, your legs touching. “Alright, I'll be the best fuckin' ghost in town,” you laughed, knowing you were bound to fuck it up but you had no care in the world. This was too fun.

He looked over at your legs touching, smiling even wider before continuing the game. He would ask you to do things as a ghost as you did ... with enough trial and error. He did notice that you kept adjusting and scooting closer and closer. He really liked this.

“Do you know how to freeze someone?" he asked, which you shook your head to. “Let me see this-” he mumbled, wrapping his arm around you, definitely just wanting to help you see the controls. You were essentially sitting in his lap at this point, a soft pink blush creeping onto both of your faces.

His face was so close, pressed almost right up against yours ... you wanted to stay here forever, but you didn't want to say anything that would ruin the moment. Nervous silence held you two for a moment, before he did something that both of you wanted more than anything. He carefully kissed your cheek, before going back to the game as if nothing ever happened.

Your brain melted, a feeling of bliss overtaking your body. You've been waiting for that for ages. You slowly leaned back into his chest as he laid down his controller for a moment. He wrapped his arms around your waist for a moment, giving you a careful squeeze. You reached your arms up around his neck, hugging him back. Neither of you cared about the game anymore.

“Stay here tonight. If you want to,” Sebastian muttered softly, holding your body close to his. He didn't dare let go, and neither did you.

You stayed there that night, you stayed wrapped up in his arms until the daylight and you had to work on your farm. But you hoped one day, you could wake up next to him everyday. Maybe someday, but for now, you had many Saturday nights where you stayed over later than everybody else.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Hiii, Harpy anon again.

I have more thoughts. Instead of making Idia a dog boy, I say we make him an insect. Mostly because there are some insects out there that just make sense for him. (Also because he kinda look like bug to me tbh)

For example, spiders. (Yes I know they aren't insects but they look insects and that's all that matters) Spiders specifically have a lot of significance in Greek mythology, so it would make sense for Idia (who is based off a Greek god) to have some kind of connection there. But also spiders tend to be solitary creatures, they don't live in groups and only come together during mating. And a lot of the time, during mating the males are killed by their female mates. Which..I feel like is why Idia would avoid Yuu like the plague. Because all he can think about near them is "Mate.Mate.Mate.Mate.MATE-" and he's scared if he tries anything he'll get killed immediately.

Now I don't know if we've talked about Ortho yet but I feel like he's a little robot bee. I know it doesn't really go with spider Idia but Robot bee Ortho would be so gosh darn cute. There was a study done on bee's that came to the conclusion that when bee's bump into eachother they make a little "Whoop" noise. IMAGINE BUMPING INTO BEE ORTHO AND HE JUST GOES "Whoop!"

AGSJSGAHSVSS

Ahem, sorry got carried away there for a sec. Bee's are also very protected of their hive and other bees in said hive, so I can't help but imagine if Yuu gets picked on Ortho immediately just pulls out the laser beams. Bee's can also smell fear. Giving bee Ortho this trait is like giving a toddler a glock and telling them to go do a crime. It is both horrifying and hilarious at the same time.

Robot Bee Boy.

BeeBot that makes cute noises when bumping into things.

So very cute. I don't have much to add to that except look at this cute bee butt.

Now...spooder Idia...

Did anyone else see Kar'niss from Baldr's Gate 3 and thought he was hella fine?

What kind of spider would he be? If he's one of the fluffy kinds I love the idea of his floof matching his hair. Would he have multiple eyes? Fangs on top of having those already pointy teethies?

Did you know an interesting thing that bee's and some spiders have in common his helping with pollinating plants?

Hmm drider's are usually big and people in general already don't like regular spiders very much. Poor Idia is just going to keep getting more reasons to not leave his room. 😔Oh Jeez Jamil would prob freak out seeing him.

Man, Idia and Azul have it bad. For females of both of their kind if they don't kill you after sex cuz doing the diddly works up an appetite, they might kill males that they simply rejected...or just because they got too close.

Another thing that both male octopuses and spiders have been shown to do to lower the risk is present their possible mate with food. Azul's an amazing cook with his own restaurant and Idia has a surplus of every kind of snack/junk food you can think of so at least they have that going.

Still, I would like to think that even if that happens with their kind in that world it's not nearly as bad or quite as common. Funny though to think of Idia screeching when he sees you and tossing a few bags of gummies and chips at you.

Also....to avoid getting eaten after sex some male spiders will actually tie the female up in his web and set her free after. Do with that info what you will.

Some spiders also do a mating dance, but you have a snowball's chance in hell of seeing him do that.

Still, it's just more things that get these types of nonhuman boys thinking that you the little would be the best choice when it comes to finding a mate. AMAB? Cool. AFAB? Well, human ones don't cannibalize so it's all good....well once the guys learned that they don't.

Plus, once he gets to actually know you and see how you're the least threatening thing in the school things will be easier.

Once he's comfortable around you get to see something amazing...

That he's a snarky little shit with so much sass. He's a weird combination of having issues with self-loathing while also having an ego.

One time you tried to bite him for mouthing off and he was legit scared for a sec but once he saw those little teeth of yours couldn't even make a scratch on the exoskeleton on his arm, he gets super freaking smug, and now he's even more of a shit when teasing you.

One of the cool things is that you can legit ride him places cuz he big spooder. It's too bad it rarely if ever happens with being a shut in.

He'll still let you sit on him like that when you guys are in his room.

A cool thing he can do is climb on walls and ceilings, does it often when trying to sneak to the vending machines on campus without being seen. He has unfortunately been seen once or twice though and it scared the hell out of the poor student to see a giant freaking spider on the ceiling and almost made Idia drop his snacks.

His webs are pretty and glowy, he kind of has them around his room set up like fairy light.

Weird fact, spiders can taste with their feet.

Cute fact, some spiders will keep a frog as a pet. Frog helps keep the spider's eggs from getting eaten and the spider protects the frog from other things.

I'm kind of picturing Idia as the spider and you as the frog. You are his emotional support human that he keeps close when he has to leave his lair.

He unintentionally gives you scary dog privileges.

Imagine working your shift at Twisted McDonald and a little human comes up to you with this big-ass sharp-toothed spider dude behind them, you are scared out of your mind but then the human says "Excuse me, he asked for no pickles."

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

[st4rb3rries]

STAN MARSH and KYLE BROFLOVSKI friendship hc's!! ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

pairings; stan and kyle x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; goofy friendship head cannons!!

warnings; cussing, underage drinking

a/n; my first time writing so lmk if theres any mistakes

YOUR FRIEND GROUP WITH THEM

you guys try to start a band. stan plays the electric guitar and you play the drums. but kyle.... oh sweet kyle. this orange head plays some type of classical instrument. my boy be playing the cello during a mcr (my chemical romance) song i swear😭😭.

stan: "dude c'mon this ain't the 1700's your piano doesn't belong here."

y/n: "yeah pack it up bethoven"

kyle: "DUDE IM SORWRY YK MY PARENTS MAQDE ME PLAY THIS GAY ASS INSTRUMENT!!!"

you and stan just giggle

there's always sleepovers at your house 24/7. your house is a safe spot for them. like y'all always snuggle and cuddle together in your bed. its so comfy too because you have so many plushies. you guys always watch movies and take naps after for sureee.<33

baking bro. kyle is the best baker out of y'all. one time stan and you tried to bake premade cookies. hell nah the fire department came. kyle was so mad that day becuase it was his oven and his parents were out of town... you and stan had to get summer jobs to pay off his oven. you guys still owe money whoops. you guys really hope kyle forgot about this accident. (he didn't.)

you guys go stargazing!! and it's the best thing to do too. kyle would bring his telescope and. you and stan would bring the snacks, flashlights, and blankets. one time you guys went and there was a mediator shower. all of you guys were in awe as you saw the mediators flash by. lowkey wanna of the best and rememberable moment you guys all have together.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH STAN

sometimes when stan is having a bad day with his parents he sneaks into your room and brings some beer to drink with you. kyle doesn't know you guys do this at all. but you guys drink A LOT whenever he comes over. it's literally a problem but #yolo😜. the conversations are worth it though. you guys talk about the meaning of life and. say some random ass shit. for example you both confessed that you had a crush on each other at some point in your guys life. nothing but laughter after that.

one time stan decided he wanted you to bleach his hair. he only wanted to dye it cause he didn't wanna look like his dad. he was having a mental breakdown about it. he never really shows this side to anyone but you, his bestie. he cries into your chest for a long time after venting. once he looks at your shirt (filled with snot and tears) he says "sorry" so much it's literally so cute. once you were done comforting him it was time to bleach his hair:D. (Y'ALL WERE STILL DRUNK) after bleaching his hair it looked good to y'all at that time... when he got sober he literally said, "y/n what the fuck happened to my hair." clearly you remembered what led to his bleached hair but he didn't. stan dyed it back to black himself ha.

he always plays his guitar to you. if he had a crush on you he'd definitely write a love song for you to listen to. definitely hasn't wrote one before. he play's all these catchy riffs for you and loves to see your face in awe. always tries to teach you to play but you get distracted cause he's so close to you😏. you listen to music with him 24/7 and share headphones!! radiohead, deftones, mcr, my bloody valentine are y'alls go to music artists. music is therapy for y'all.

THIRFTING!!! y'all go thrifting everyday bro i swear. he always finds the best stuff too. he finds all the embroidered jeans, vintage tees, and hella cool jewelry. LIKE HELLOO SHARING IS CARINGG!!! nah but you guys do be sharing clothes and accessories. since you guys have the same style. you guys also be pulling up to them yard sales. that's when your luck happens and. that's when stan gets jealous. you guys are depressed but well dressed.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH KYLE

you always play with his hair. since its so cute and fluffy. he often gets insecure cause of cartman. but it comforts him when you play and style his hair. when you style his hair i'm talking about pigtails, braids, space buns all that cute stuff. to go with that you add clips, headbands and bows. he looks goofy as hell but anything for his best friend. sometimes when he's so stressed he asks if he can come over to your house. you say yes ofc. he only comes just so he can get his hair played by you. once you guys start chatting away and his hair is getting played with he get's so relaxed. this is what heaven feels like to him!!

starbies and studying at the library. ok out of the 3 of y'all you and kyle are the smartest. when you go to the library you guys always go to your go to spot every time. if someone is setting there. kyle asks them to politely leave. if not his short temper comes out. once the person finally leaves you guys set up everything organized. you guys borrow fancy highlighters for notes and. big wordy text books to read to each other. you guys always go over the answers if you have tests at school. kyle usually is the first to one to passout. so you have to carry him out of the library sometimes. he looks so peaceful why would you wanna wake him up😭. stan secretly gets jealous that you guys study at the library without him. like come on guys he's smart too.

PLAYING DREIDEL WITH HIM!!! he adores when you play dreidel with him! you always loose though🙄. no one can out beat him. when he first asked you to play with him and. you asked him what it was. he was so excited to tell you. you fell asleep because he told you the whole ass history of the dreidel. like you just wanted to learn how to play😭. whenever it's getting close to hannukah you make dreidels out of clay for everyone. you decorate them and stuff. sheila is tearing up cause y'all so cute together making dreidel's. she defenitly takes a photo of you two. after you gave everyone their dreidel. the last person to receive one was cartman.... it didn't go so well.

since you guys are nerds. you guys definitely write emo poems and. it always be late at night too. this is when y'all become so sensitive and emotional. trauma, bullying, blood, sweat, and tears. go into these poems omfg. you guys also write books for ike!! he loves them!! especially the ones from you. you and kyle also write dumb ass books for each other too. they even have lil crayon drawings lmaoo. for example: kyle wrote on called, "jew on the boat". it was one page that said, "jew on the boat". with a silly drawing. HELPPP YOU GUYS LAUGHED AT THIS FOR HOURS AND. IT WASN'T EVEN THAT FUNNY.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ Izzy "Something LGBT+ Just Happened To Me" Hands has been haunting me all my life week so I just had to write something, based on the promos for next week. Spoilers, obviously.

For @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “I'm not saying I didn't like it."

Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters/Relationships: Izzy Hands, Lucius Spriggs, with a healthy dose of whoops I tripped and fell into Izzy x Lucius and I actually kinda like it down here (weird but platonic is fine too if you'd prefer) Tags: Canon Typical Homophobia/Internalised Homophobia, brief mention of a suicide attempt. But the story is really soppy and fluffy I swear.

Panto

Stede Fucking Bonnet. If there’s one thing he has to credit the man with, Izzy thinks, it’s that he has a natural knack for beauty the likes of which is not often seen on these seven seas. He looks around at the strings and strings of lanterns which light up the deck like stars and feels … something. Something warm and healing and dangerous and terrifying. It’s in Jim’s smile as Frenchie and Oluwande help adjust one of Bonnet’s jackets for their more slender frame. Archie is arm wrestling with Black Pete and she has a nautical star on her wrist he’s never noticed before. Even their Captain is here, helping Wee John pin some accessories to a dress more bold and glittering and blue than all the treasure in the world and Izzy feels- Izzy… feels…

“Like what you see?”

He jumps near out of his skin, hand flying to the hilt of his sword out of sheer instinct. But it’s just Lucius. He sneers as threateningly as he can muster, but he’s already lost this one. He just can’t get under the kid’s skin these days. And the little fucker knows it. Lucius smiles, sidling up to adjust his already, always, perfect tie.

“Looks like I gave you a bit of a fright. Getting soft, old man?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Woah, alright then.” He raises a cocky little eyebrow. “Getting hard. Have it your way.”

Izzy grits his teeth. “Twat.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He makes a sound, and that sound is pretty pathetic. He’d really done a number on himself with that bullet. He’d been much better at pushing it all down before. He’d have probably called them all something awful and stormed off to make himself useful, or sulk, or both. But for some reason, he’s still here, and he’s still here, and Lucius is still here looking irritatingly fine about everything. He has a little black stick of make-up between his fingers like a cigarette and something, some godforsaken thing compels Izzy to ask,

“What’s that?”

“Eyeliner.”

“I know it’s fucking eyeliner, I mean what’s-”

Lucius takes a chance, diving for Izzy’s face with the liner and doodling a quick little line and a curl and then he darts back to arms length with a grimace. Izzy’s hand was really far too close to his blade for that and his newly redrawn boundaries were maybe a bit too new for that and Lucius looked like he might finally be worried enough to be scared. When Izzy still hasn’t run him through or run off after a few seconds, he raises up a little cosmetic mirror like it’s part shield, part offering.

“It’s just- you know-” he stammers, “It’s just for fun.”

Izzy examines his reflection. He already has a moustache, but Lucius has taken it upon himself to draw him another one. A bigger one? A pantomime of one over his face. Christ, panto, that takes him back. He’d been a different person back then. A more fun one, for sure. A happier one, a safer one. He looks at himself in the mirror and raises an eyebrow, and imagines? - remembers? - both? - what it would look like to have another one drawn over the top so that someone could see it from up in the nosebleeds. He really fucking misses being seen.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Lucius blusters. “I’ll clean it off. It’s stupid.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t like it.”

Lucius stares.

Izzy stares back.

“Wait, really?”

Izzy swallows hard. He swallows down a lot of things. He pries his hand off the hilt of his sword and lifts both hands away from his body. An invitation. And if his hands shake while he does it, well, they all know better than to fucking say a thing about it.

Lucius moves more slowly this time. A little wary, a little gentle, like he knows what he’s being offered. Izzy focuses on not letting his stupid heart pound so hard it makes him dizzy as he feels the pencil drag down his cheeks and lips and forehead. A long stretch of fragile silence passes between them. He’s not sure exactly when he closed his eyes. Jesus. He almost doesn’t dare open them again.

“How do I look?” he asks at last.

“I think you look fabulous, darling.”

[multifandomshell]

Adaman, Irida and Volo 1, 8, 14, 22, plus one wildcard for whichever question you want!

Oh hey!! Welcome to my blog, you're my first ask! Dunno if I'm supposed to choose one for each question or do all of them, so I'm doing the latter. This is gonna be pretty long, so buckle up lol

Why do you like or dislike this character?

I'm pretty neutral with Adaman, he's a character with solid design and personality, but I just wish there's more story to him. The only noteworthy story stuff I find about him is that he has a lot of siblings, which make for a fun dynamic, he's a bit unsure being a leader (altho that appears few and far between), and that's kind of it? He's kind of boring imo Adaman fans pls don't come @ me ;A;

Irida, on the other hand, I actually get attached to a lot more than I expected. She has the same solid design and personality as well, but I like that there's more focus on her personal conflict. Since she's young and a recent leader, the insecurity of being a leader is stronger on her side, not to mention the whole thing with Palina. You can actually see that she's growing as well over the course of the main story.

Lastly, Volo. He has a death grip on my soul Unsurprisingly my fave, mainly because of the angst potential he has and his way of thinking. Personally, I take one look on his idea of "The world is unjust so we need to start over" and thought 'oh, big mood'. (The same reason I got attached to Cyrus lmao) Unlike Cyrus tho, he's a lot more human and he acknowledges it, which is where I like to imagine how shit goes down with him, especially with his vague backstory.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

When it comes to all of them? Just water down their personality by A LOT. One thing I saw in how ppl treat them in fanfics, especially with Volo, is either making him a terrible irredeemable monster with zero personality other than 'evil' and 'master manipulator' and making him the butt of the joke, or he's a soft fluffy UwU boy that instantly regrets what he's done and becomes good after the MC kisses him or something. Like I get that it happens in memes for the former and x reader indulgences for the latter, but cmon guys. Once or twice is fine, but I feel like it's so overdone. You can't just erase the canon like this. Volo is a compassionate guy. Volo knows well the weight of what he's doing / will do to the world. Those things can and do coexist.

I also have a really long tangent for Volo being compared to Kamado in terms of evilness and being hated / loved by the fandom, but that's for another post if you actually want to see it.

While I don't see much of their depiction in fics (because I'm not wading through 157 submas or x reader fics just to find a decent fic of them), I do also think that, like Volo, Adaman also suffers from his character and story shoved aside because ppl focus more on the fact he's hot, be it in fanarts or fics. I do occasionally see some interesting takes on his character that are explored further, but it's either a) a hidden gem, or b) overshadowed by the main plot of more popular fic focuses (again, submas AUs or x readers)

And for a main character, Irida is just really shoved aside in the fic department. You have to actively scour for stuff about her, although I don't actually do that so I don't really know how bad this gets.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Why would you make me do this I am the worst at this aaaaa- (ded)

Adaman is not formal. At all. Assigning him a steampunk aesthetic because of the association with time is really cool, but expect him to be fussy about it. He is 100% casual, bonus points if the clothes are long sleeved and baggy or loose in any way. (Which is ironic since those are a nightmare to clean in boggy terrain. Whoops, sorry bud) In a way, his modern drip is actually really fitting.

Irida is definitely the opposite of Adaman. She NEEDS her clothes to be at least somewhat revealing, otherwise she won't survive the summer. I can also see her choosing light colored clothes instead of the black undershirt in her modern drip since it reflects light (and therefore heat) instead of absorbing it. Also jewelries. Nothing too excessive, just a bracelet or maybe some earrings to match her outfit.

Volo is definitely an ancient greek aesthetic, although he may be open to other things as well. Like Adaman, his clothes tend to lean on the more comfortable side, although he doesn't mind revealing clothes too much. His default is thick jackets or hoodies with fur linings (and the fandom also agrees since it's the consensus modern drip for him lmao) but I imagine him wearing more traditional celestica clothes in private since his heritage is near and dear to his heart.

Literally no polyester, rayon, nylon, or any synthetic fabric for these guys. They would die of rashes within 30 minutes. (Aside from Volo, but he's still dropping it after a while)

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

While I'm mainly a Volo x Reader fic main (yes I'm one of those ppl pls don't judge ("o_o)) I actually enjoy the fics that analyzes their characters and behavior more. Potentially also worldbuilding and relationship dynamic with some other character (that don't involve romance) is also really good and I keep coming back to them.

Some of my recommendations for Volo in Ao3 is teach me a kinder world (whatever you can bring) and a lot more Volo and Cogita stuff by absolutenadir. Another one is 成功を祈ります (English ver.) and while it's presented as an x reader, reader barely appears and there's zero romance scenes at all. After the story itself, there's a really detailed breakdown of Volo's character as the author has a philosophy masters degree (bless your soul Laurentine, hopefully you're doing well out there) and I think it's a good foundation for understanding and writing Volo as a character as well.

While I don't actively read Adaman and Irida focused fics, there is The Importances of History (Class) by annasofroma which is a series dedicated on worldbuilding and relationship building. While the main focus is on the Galaxy Team, I've read all of them and there's at least one fic in there where both are prominent figures and actually express a distinct way of thinking. There's also same earth; same air; same sky which explore their sibling-like dynamics.

But on that note, shoutout to jdphobe for making that and Apotheosis as well. Definitely the most invested I have ever been in a long fic. There's two other legends arceus fic of theirs as well that focuses on Volo but be sure to give them a read as well!!

And I think that's it!! This post's gone on for long enough so no wildcard for today. Thanks for sending me the ask!

[zigsexual]

Theoreticals; part 1 (maxwell x mc)

lol remember when i started this in july and am just now posting it? also remember when i said that i would post it yesterday ha ha ha lol anyway it’s too long for one post so imma break this shit down into PARTS!!! 

this is the final companion piece to hypotheticals and empiricals, and honestly if you haven’t read those then u probably should because this one has a lot of plot throwback and also tbh its like very divergent from the main storyline seeing as i started writing it in JULY

summary: the coronation is actually happening feat. private planes, maxwell as a baby????? an unfortunate run in with some potpourri, dancing, drake, and an uber driver

word count: 3700+

Riley paces across her room yet again, halfheartedly feigning an attempt to pack for the upcoming trip to the palace. Her suitcase, empty but for a single black camisole and jeans, is splayed out across her bed next to Maxwell, who is also splayed out across her bed.

“Do you think I should bring my boots?” She asks. “My other shoes have like, no tread, and all of the roads by the palace are old-ass rocks so tread is probably important. And what if it rains?”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to rain,” Maxwell replies, but she’s already tossed the boots in his direction.

“Okay, so if I bring the boots, I need boot socks,” Riley tugs open a dresser drawer, rifling through it. “Except I’m pretty sure I only have red boot socks, and that’s going to clash with all my outfits, so maybe I should just stick with a bootie? Except then the tread is an issue again.”

Maxwell laughs. “Riley, it’s two days.”

She whirls around, brandishing a boot sock. “Yeah, two days in the goddamn palace!”

He breaks his gaze from the ceiling to watch her as she makes another futile pass towards her closet, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. “You really want to keep pretending you’re going to finish this tonight?”

She sighs, dropping her things onto the floor. “It’s already too late to give up.”

“Few more hours won’t hurt.” He reaches over and closes the lid, then holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s go on a walk. You’re all strung out.”

She takes his hand, in spite of herself yet again. Everything about him, about this, is in spite of herself and her better judgment. But it’s midnight on the eve of what may be their last chance at anything, and she doesn’t care that much anymore.

It’s dark in the house, the sconces dimmed, and they walk through the second floor hallways like they have the entire place to themselves. Maxwell is still holding her hand, his other shoved into his pocket, watching the portraits on the walls as they pass.

“Is that you?” Riley asks, pointing at one of the frames. It’s a painting of a boy who couldn’t be more than eight years old, posed like the subject of a renaissance art piece and clearly none too pleased about it. He’s got the same soft brown hair and mischievous eyes as Maxwell, his face dusted with freckles and mouth pulled into a barely concealed pout.

“Oh my god,” Maxwell laughs. “Yeah. That’s… yeah.”

“You were cute.” Riley bumps her hip against his, grinning. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, looking at the painting sheepishly.

“My parents, they were really into the ‘nobles’ thing,” he says, “You know, ridiculous estates and portrait painting and etiquette classes, all that. I mean, I guess you have to be when you are a noble. I mostly let Bertrand handle that stuff now.”

Riley holds out her free hand and traces the curve of his painted face, the rough brush strokes in sweeping lines under her fingertips. She smiles.

“Bertrand would kill me if he knew I was letting you touch the paintings,” Maxwell says.

“Bertrand would kill you if he knew you were letting me touch you.”

“Touché.”

She steps back from the portrait, squeezing Maxwell’s hand gently. “Your parents, what were they like?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, and she worries she’s treaded into inadmissible territory. She turns to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, you don’t have to—“

“No, Riley,” he smiles, but it’s sad. “It’s fine.”

He looks up at the painting for a long moment, and she wonders how much of that baby-faced boy is still a part of him. He still has those faded freckles across his cheeks, that air of something…. more, like he’s privy to a thousand secrets one could never hope to know. She suddenly wishes he were as much of an open book as he likes to say he is.

“My parents were… well, I guess they’re pretty self-explanatory.”

“What do you mean?”

He’s still got his eyes on the painting, but his jaw is set. “You’ve been in the study.”

“Duh.”

He breaks for a moment, to shoot her a smile, but then he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “So, that’s my dad.”

“The study?”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “We didn’t change anything in there after he died. It just… felt weird. And there’s already all these rooms in this place, it’s not like we needed another one. So now it’s just there, filled with polo trophies and fencing equipment and all that ‘nobles’ shit.”

“And Drake,” she adds, a tentative step towards levity. Maxwell pulls her closer, letting go of her hand so he can slip his arm around her waist. He doesn’t have to say it, but she knows he’s grateful for the reprieve.

“And Drake. Unfortunately.” He looks at her and smiles. “You would’ve liked my mom.”

“Yeah?” Riley smiles back.

“Yeah. Well, I know she would’ve liked you, anyway.”

They make their way down the rest of the hall, passing more portraits and art pieces and the occasional odd sculpture, everything in brocade like something out of her high school history books. She runs her fingers across gilded wallpaper and marble shelves, still marveling at the fact that this, somehow, has become her life.

“What’s New York like?” Maxwell asks her. “I mean, I know what the tourist parts are like, thanks to Liam, but what’s your part like?”

“My part?” She tilts her head. “Uh, not that great, honestly. My part is a shitty studio in Queens with an elevator that doesn’t work, a roach problem, and a toilet that only flushes half the time. I don’t even have a bedframe, I just sleep with my mattress on the floor, and sometimes if I’m lucky, there isn’t a drunk guy peeing on my stoop when I come home from the late shift.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Maxwell says, and the funny thing is that she can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not.

“Can I quote you on that? My landlord keeps asking me to leave him a Yelp review.”

Maxwell looks puzzled. “I thought… you didn’t have nobility in America?”

Riley shoots him a bemused look. “We don’t.”

“But then, why would you…?”

It takes her a moment, but then she shoves his shoulder and laughs. “Oh my god, wait, are you talking about my landlord? That’s the guy who owns the place I rent. It’s just like, a name for rental property owners. God, you’re such a one-percenter.”

“Shut up,” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Things are different in Cordonia, okay?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know what a landlord is. I can’t believe you thought landlords are literal lords of the land.”

Maxwell makes a face at her, and she doesn’t even remotely try to stifle her giggles. “Excuse you, the only ‘landlords’ I know are literal lords of the land, so it was a logical conclusion.”

Riley taps him on the nose before turning away dramatically, hand on her heart. “Deepest apologies, Lord Beaumont. I would never disrespect your status or your land.”

“Hilarious.” He crosses his arms, but he’s smiling.

“Please accept this token of my atonement,” she continues, lifting some imaginary skirts so as to further sashay down the hall, “Imported from the duchy of Newest York, one hundred — no — one thousand of our finest Manhattan pigeons.”

Riley dips down in a ridiculously low curtsey, stumbling forward a bit and catching herself with a laugh. “Perchance would you like to visit with one of our most prestigious landlords? He is so terribly fond of — Max!”

She shrieks as he comes up behind her, arms around her waist, pulling her close and spinning her. She can feel the breath of his laughter against her neck, his whispered, “Shhh, you’ll wake everyone up,” and the way his fingers linger on her when he sets her down.

Riley, flushed, brushes her hair out of her face and adjusts her shirt. “You’re the worst.”

“I accept your pigeons,” Maxwell says with mock formality. “And I would love to meet your landlord.”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t, the pigeons are fucking gross.”

“Okay, pass on the pigeons then.”

“My landlord is gross too.”

He sighs. “You’re not making a great case here.”

Riley smiles, and compelled with a sudden irresistible urge to touch him, reaches out and runs her fingers along his jawline. She almost expects to feel the brushstrokes there too, a perfect likeness of his childhood painting, all grown up and still off-limits.

“You could come visit, if you want,” she says softly. “The mattress is a twin, but we can make it work.”

He kisses her, and she closes her eyes and lets herself believe for a moment that they’re not here, not in this ridiculous world full of princes and balls and family portraits, but somewhere else, somewhere loud and brash and filled with the scent of street food and smoke and dreams yet to be realized.

But of course, they aren’t.

“Come on,” he says, his voice gentle against the sudden sharpness of the moment. “Let’s go finish packing.”

They walk back to the room hand-in-hand, and Maxwell helps her fold things and find things and then sits on the suitcase so she can shove everything in properly and zipper it away. The sky stops getting darker and starts getting lighter, and the laughter between them grows less practiced and more delirious as they finish up.

She smiles when she steps out of her bathroom, face washed and hair up, to find him tucked in against her pillow, finally stolen into sleep by his own exhaustion. It’s a rare occasion to find Maxwell so utterly still, and she stands there for a second watching him.

She’s known for quite some time that she’s fucked. This whole situation: the competition, the prince, the stupid stupid boys. She’s just fucked, no way around it.

But as she lingers in the doorway, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest, it occurs to her that she is now — for lack of a better term — royally fucked.

---

It’s as if she’s barely slept at all when she feels his hand on her shoulder. “Riley? Hey, time to get up.”

She burrows her face back towards her pillow, trying desperately to shut out the light filtering in through the curtains. Maxwell, however, refuses to be shut out.

“We’re leaving in an hour or so, if you want to get ready.” He sounds just as tired as she feels, and she realizes then that he’s most likely spent the entire night here, with her, probably shoved into the corner while she bundled herself in covers. The thought makes her sit up suddenly, blinking blearily into Maxwell’s face, only a few inches from hers.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she says back.

They look at each other for a moment, Riley squinting up at him as she adjusts to the rush of sunlight. Under the sudden scrutiny of his gaze, she pulls the blankets up around her, a flush spreading into her cheeks as she realizes what she must look like: hair a tangled mess, sleep marks across her face, oversized t-shirt hanging in a particularly unflattering way.

“What’s the ‘Knicks’?” Maxwell asks.

“Hmm?” She quirks an eyebrow in confusion, and he nods at her shirt. She looks down. “Oh. Basketball team. They’re the… uh, the professional team for New York.”

“Do you like them?”

“I like their shirts.”

He laughs, turning away from her to slip down onto the floor. “Sometime, will you teach me what basketball is?”

“You guys don’t have basketball in Cordonia?” Riley lets the blankets fall back around her and pushes herself out of the bed with the intent to follow him, but the hardwood is like ice against her feet. She lingers near the familiar warmth of the covers while she watches him go.

“We don’t have a lot of stuff in Cordonia,” he answers. “Basketball, Disneyland, those breakfast things you like.”

“Pop-tarts?” Riley grins, crossing her arms. “Yeah, real bummer on that one.”

“Prom, Costco, monster trucks,” Maxwell continues, “And we’ve barely even got you for much longer, so.”

The words hit her harder than expected, and the smile drops from her face just as her arms fall to her sides. The chill of the floor spreads up from her feet, twisting its way through her body and settling in her heart.

Maxwell heads towards her suitcase. He lifts it down off the table, yanks the handle up until it clicks. “Come on, you gotta get dressed. I’ll take your bag out to the car.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Will you come back?”

He turns his head, eyes ghosting over her face as she bites harder into her lip.

“Riley…” he says, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pulling her shoulders up in what she hopes looks like a nonchalant shrug. “Just, big day, you know.”

“Understatement.” He smiles at her, and the sinking feeling subsides.

“What should I wear?” she asks, in a feeble attempt to keep him in the room a few moments longer.

“Definitely just that. The king and queen will be so impressed.”

“Shut up.” She sticks her tongue out, reaching back to pull the comforter up from the bed and around her shoulders before crossing toward the closet.

“No I’m serious, the press will not be able to stop talking about it. Bertrand will love that.”

She whacks him with the comforter as she passes. “You know what else Bertrand will love?”

“What?”

“You spending the night in my room.”

He laughs. “Okay, okay, point taken.” He turns to grab her suitcase, but not fast enough to keep her from noticing the blush rising in his cheeks. She laughs too, pulling open her closet door.

“Go get dressed,” he calls after her, “I’m actually taking your stuff out this time.”

“As you wish, Lord Beaumont.” She twirls around to drop in a curtsey, blowing him a kiss as he makes a face at her and heads out the door.

---

Riley wakes up to Maxwell once more, her face smashed in against his shoulder in the back of the car. She lifts her head, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, only to meet Bertrand’s disapproving ones.

“You have lines on your face,” he says disdainfully. “You look wretched.”

Riley sits up, rolling her neck and wincing. “Thanks, B. Are we at the airport?”

“Yeah,” Maxwell answers, seemingly unfazed by her using his arm for a pillow. She hopes she didn’t drool. “There’s coronation traffic, but that’s to be expected. We’ll be at the plane in five.”

Riley looks out the window, expecting to see the familiar bustle of brake lights and taxicabs that punctuate all her visits to JFK. However, all she finds is a great wide sea of black tarmac and planes.

She turns to Maxwell and Bertrand. “Wait, where are we?”

“The airport.”

“No, I — yeah, I know that. But where are the people?”

Maxwell looks confused. “…On the planes?”

“Don’t we, y’know, have to go through security and stuff? Or is that not a thing in Cordonia? Or like, don’t I need to show someone my passport and check my bag?” She nods her head in the direction of the trunk. “That thing is not gonna fit in an overhead compartment, I can already promise you that.”

The car slows to a stop and Maxwell laughs. “What? Riley, we’re broke, but we aren’t fly commercial broke.”

Riley says “Oh,” and then someone in a full suit and black sunglasses is opening her car door and saying, “Lady Riley, I’ll be taking your bags,” and she says “Oh,” and Maxwell says, “Thanks, they’re in the trunk.”

Riley whips her head around to face him, eyes wide. Maxwell shrugs. “Liam has a plane.”

Her eyes go even wider, and she pauses to make sure Bertrand is mostly out of earshot before whispering, “You didn’t think to tell me we’d be in an enclosed space with Liam for an extended period of time?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Well, the thought crossed my mind, but I was worried you’d try to cut your losses and run before we got here. And besides, he told me he wanted some time with you. To talk about something.”

Riley shoots him a pointed look before turning to slide out of the car. Talk to her about something! Great. What a mystery as to what it could possibly be.

The man in the suit, most likely a member of Liam’s security team, is already unloading their things from the trunk. She squints into the sunlight, eyes settling on the enormous white jet just a few hundred feet from their stop, its wings ringed with gold and an egregiously large Cordonian seal plastered along the side.

“Discreet,” Riley mutters, sighing as she heads off towards the staircase lowered down from the plane’s back entrance. She’s never boarded a plane like this before, not without hours of waiting and TSA screenings and watching as every other boarding group took their place ahead of her in line. The tiny staircase seems too easy, and the staff waiting at the bottom are too quick to offer her their arms as she climbs up into the ridiculous fixture of luxury.

As she makes her way inside, wandering slowly towards the aisle, she gawks at the interior: a scaled down recreation of the palace sitting areas, complete with ornate lamps and crystal stemware and what looks to be an entire grand piano off in the corner. Riley feels her stomach clench at the sight of it all, a reminder of how desperately she doesn’t belong in this world of opulence and glamour.

There’s a rustle of a curtain and footsteps behind her, and she turns, expecting to see Maxwell on his way in. She’s already whispering, “Max, I think I should—” before her eyes settle on the person who’s actually in front of her and she stops mid-sentence. “Oh, fuck.”

Drake looks her over and frowns.

“What are you doing here?!” she hisses, shoving him in the shoulder. “And why are you sneaking up on me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answers, leveled. “Pretty sure your boyfriend is still back at the car.”

Riley shakes her head, letting out an agonized sigh. “I am truly not in the mood for this, Drake.”

“Aldridge, you going soft? Can’t handle the banter anymore?”

“On Liam’s goddamn plane? Yeah, maybe it’s not the ideal choice of venue.” She crosses her arms, but her defense wavers. “Drake… you didn’t… I mean, you didn’t say anything, did you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Relax, I’m not that much of an asshole. Liam’s on a conference call in the diplomat suite anyway.”

“Diplomat suite?”

“It’s a big fucking plane.”

Riley lets her hands fall back to her sides, glancing around the room once more, eyes following the rows of soft leather seats.

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs, looking everywhere but at her. “I know you’ll talk to him. You don’t need me to do it for you.”

She lets out a sigh. “Maxwell said he invited me on the plane so we could talk, so if you’re awaiting my downfall, it might come sooner than you think.”

“I’m not —” Drake looks taken aback, “Riley, come on, you know that’s not how I feel.”

She starts to say something in reply, but the sounds of footsteps coming up the staircase echo loudly into the cabin. Drake turns, and Riley feels her nervous tension ease. Maxwell is finally here, he’ll know how to handle Drake and she can just —

“Riley,” an all too familiar voice calls, “Is that you harping on and on in there?”

Riley grabs Drake’s arm, face twisted in horror, and mouths, Olivia? He nods, looking slightly pained, and then there she is at the landing — mouth twisted in distaste, red hair spilling out of a white fur hat, sheathed in some sort of emerald green evening coat that could probably cover Riley’s apartment rent for the next ten years.

Her mouth curls up into a smile when she sees them. “Oh lovely, I was right.”

She steps into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood, and drapes her arm across Drake’s shoulder, leaning against him as she surveys Riley. “You do know we’re going to a coronation ball, right?”

“Wonderful to see you too, Olivia,” Riley replies with a grimace.

Olivia smiles again, straightening up and patting Drake dismissively on the back. “Hey Drake, will you be a dear and roll out the bar cart? I have a feeling we’re going to need some drinks.”

Drake rolls his eyes so hard it almost looks painful. “Sure Olivia, I will happily roll out the bar cart. For myself.”

As he turns and pushes past her, she frowns, watching him walk away with a hand on her hip. When he disappears through the cabin door, she looks back at Riley. “Is he always so pleasant?”

“Pretty much, yeah. You’d think you two would get along.”

Olivia arches an eyebrow. “Cute.”

She hears someone else coming up the stairs and prays it’s Maxwell this time. When she sees him step inside, she releases an audible sigh.

“Hey Riley, did Bertrand already come up here? I think he — oh.” His eyes fall on Olivia, who flutters her fingers in a wave. “Olivia?”

“And Drake.” Riley smiles through gritted teeth. “Isn’t it wonderful? Gang’s all here.”

Maxwell blinks. “Uh. Cool?”

Drake emerges from the door then, glass in hand, and stops short when he sees Maxwell. “Hey Max! Long time no see. Great talking with you in the study last night.”

Riley glares with the ferocity of a thousand suns. Maxwell blinks again. Olivia looks between all three of them and rolls her eyes. “You guys are so fucking weird.”

She turns toward the closest seat and settles in, draping her legs across the length of it so the red bottoms of her high heels are on full display. She pulls an eye mask out of her purse, tugging it over her head. “I’m going to take a Xanax and listen to Ryan’s Roses. Do not even think about speaking to me.”

“Trust me,” Riley says under her breath, “It was the least of our concerns.”

part two.

[hertzwritings]

Sit still, look pretty

A/N: Listen, I cannot stay on my pretty, fluffy branch for long; I am nothing but a horny monster, who manages to come up with some dangerous ideas. Whoops. It’s only because I am surrounded by likeminded horn-dogs, who are more than willing to give me WONDERFUL ideas (I’m looking at you @buckyshattergirl​ and @staysluttymyfriends97​), which fuels a MIGHTY need. Hope y’all enjoy it!

You can have a personalized drabble, one-shot or multichapter fic by buying me a coffee here – no matter what you want, your name, looks, anything, let me know and I’ll write it!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

Love y’all!

MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Henry Cavill x female reader

Warnings: language, secondhand embarrassment, smut (minors DNI), slight edging, dirty talk, dom!Henry, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, more dirty talk, light spanking, praise-kink, slight daddy-kink, semi-degradation-kink, age gap (reader is in her 20’s Henry is 38), spitting and probably something else, honestly, at this point just think of all the warnings you need and they’re probably in here

Wordcount: 5.321 (sorry not sorry)

 Sit still, look pretty

You put a finishing touch to your story before hitting post – another day gone by, another wild smut. You had to get your fix somewhere, and you had way too many ideas at any rate; it seemed as though you weren’t the only one who enjoyed a little filth on such a lovely afternoon – especially when the smut in question revolved around a very handsome, British actor with a set of very blue eyes. You turned your focus away from your computer to answer the phone.

“Hello, Y/N speaking.” “Hi, it’s Kim.” You frowned. It was rare that you had contact to your boss through anything other than email – that was one of the perks of working at a multi-media company, where all you had to do was write reviews and articles about movies and tv; not a lot of actual talking. “Hi, everything okay?” You asked, slightly nervous that you were about to get fired.

  “Oh, yeah, everything is fine.” Silence fell for a heartbeat. “So, you’re a pretty big Witcher-fan, right?” You swiveled in your chair, frowning a little. “Uh… Yes. Well, if I’m honest, I like pretty much everything Henry Cavill is in.” you said with a small laugh. “Good, good, great.” You frowned again. “That was just about two times too many for something good. What’s going on?” He sighed into the phone. “See, we’ve gotten a pretty big break. This might move us way ahead of the competition.” “Okay?” You were beginning to get nervous. “So… Someone saw your review of The Witcher.” You swallowed thickly. “Oh…Kay?” “And they have offered us a chance to interview Henry Cavill. In two days.” You felt cold and hot at the same time, not truly comprehending what the hell your boss was saying. “They’d love for you to do the interview, seeing as you have such a vast knowledge of his previous roles.” Oh, shit. No. No way. There was no way, you were going to be able to sit in the same room as him, smelling his cologne and keeping your cool, knowing all the shit you’d written about him. There was no way. “Would you be up for it? It’s a giant chance, both for the company, but also for you to get your name out there.” “I mean, it is, but I… Uh…” You didn’t know what to say. “We’ll have the questions written for you, you can ad lip if you want, but all you have to do is show up. We’ll get everything set up, but you’re the best and they want the best.” “Can’t Casper take it? He’s a fan as well.” “They want you.” Oh, holy shit, you were going to die. “Uhm… Sure. Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.” You heard a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Thank you, Y/N. I’ll send your information to them; they need to vet you. Cool?” “Yup. Just email me the address and the questions, and I guess I’ll see you there.” “Oh, no, I’m not coming. You’re going alone. The pandemic and all, they’re taking precautions.” Of fucking course, they were. “We’ll make sure there’s a camera set up and a button for you to press to turn on and off the camera, okay?” “Sure, sure.” “Thank you, again. You’re the best.”  

As soon as you hung up, you fumbled to find your best friend’s number and called her, silently begging she’d answer.

“LOES.” You almost yelled when she picked up. “Jesus, dude, what the hell?” you could hear her rummaging around, something clattering – she was probably baking, but your next sentence caused a very loud, metallic clatter. “I HAVE TO INTERVIEW HENRY MOTHERFUCKING CAVILL.” You stood up and began pacing. She was silent for a fraction of a second, before she screamed as well. “WHAT?? HOW?? What about… Porn???” she sounded just as terrified as you. “DUDE, you’ve written a lot of filthy shit about that man, how are you going to be able to look him in the eyes!?” “LIKE HELL IF I KNOW!! I’ve written about this man spitting in my face while I call him daddy, what the hell am I going to do?” “Die. You could die, that would solve a lot of issues.” “Loes.” She laughed. “I’m kidding. I’m sure you’ll be just fine, just… Try to stay professional. There’s no reason to panic, it’s not like he’s read your stuff anyway.” You paused for a second and drew a deep breath. She was right; there wasn’t a reason to freak out over an issue, that wasn’t even an issue. “But let me know if you need me to handfeed him pretzels or something, I’ll be there in literally a flash. I don’t care if I have to run through half of the city with burning hot pastries in my hand, I’ll do it.” You laughed. “I’ll let them know I have a pastry chef on standby, in case anything happens to me.”

------------

You looked up at the looming building, the reality of what you were going to do fully setting in; you were about to meet Henry fucking Cavill, interview him, when your mind was swirling with very, very dirty thoughts and very, very dirty ideas. It was a fever-dream, it must be. Because the building you were in, was not an office, like you had expected, or anything that looked remotely like a conference-hall – no, it was a freaking hotel.

You stepped inside slowly, looking around. A woman with a soft smile and a clipboard saw you and hurried to your side, quickly shaking your hand. “Y/N, from Streaming R Us, I presume?” You nodded with a tight throat. “Good to meet you, I’m Natalie, I’m the PR-manager.” You followed her as she led you to the elevators with brisk steps. “So, we’ve gone over everything through mail. You’ve got any questions?” You shook your head and followed her inside the elevator. “Good. We’ve vetted you…” She saw your face turn a nasty shade of green and grinned. “Don’t worry, we do it to everyone. I promise, you’re not the first to interview someone they’ve had a fanpage for.” So that’s what they thought it was. You supposed they didn’t have reason enough to dive deeper into the actual content, because if they had, you probably wouldn’t be allowed within ten feet of him. The elevator stopped with a small bounce, and you had to almost run to keep up with her long legs. “You’re the final interview of the day, so take all the time you need. You can call me anytime, if you need anything, and I’ll be in the foyer. Henry will call when you’re done with the interview, and I’ll come and lead you back down.” She stopped in front of a closed door and put a hand on your shoulder. “Have fun. I promise, he’s had plenty of first interviews, so he’s going to be gentle with you.” I hope the fuck not. “Thank you.” She opened the door with a small beep of the keycard and smiled as you stepped inside.

The room was big, separated in two; there was a living area, and what you presumed was a bedroom hiding behind a closed door. In the middle of the room, right next to a camera, sat Henry Cavill in a button up, he had uncuffed and rolled his sleeves up on, a wide smile on his face and the second you locked eyes with him, the air was sucked straight out of the room – he was annoyingly handsome. Even more than in pictures. “Hi.” You almost whispered. “Hi.” He stood up and grabbed your hand gently – his were warm and swallowed yours completely – leading you to the seats, where the interview would take place. “Can I get you anything?” he asked with a smile. “Uh… Water or coffee would be great.” You answered thankfully, feeling the dry spot in your throat. “You got it.” He ruffled around in the small kitchenette, finally filling a cup of coffee for you. “First interview, huh?” He asked, handing you the cup and sitting down in his own chair. Your knees almost touched, despite your legs being smurf-sized in comparison with his. You nodded and sipped gratefully. “Yeah. Well, first physical interview with someone bigger than the average c-list.” You said with a hurried smile. “I guess it’s a little intimidating.” “That’s why I asked the general hustle and bustle to stay out.” He smiled. “I know it can be really daunting to do this, especially the first time, there’s no need for you to worry about other people.” You sighed happily and drank some more of your coffee. “Thank you, honestly. I think I was terrified that you were all brooding and giant, but you seem very down to earth.” “Ha, brooding? I most definitely am everything but.” You blushed a little, thinking on all the things your brain made him out to be. Dominant being one of them. He smiled at you. “Do you work here fulltime?” He asked, gesturing to the cuecards with your company name printed on the back. “Oh. Oh, no, part time. I have a lot of other things to do, so…” “Like?” He urged you on, his hands resting on the armrest of the chair, sliding thick fingers against the plush fabric. You cleared your throat. “I, uh, I write a little.” A little porn. About him. But he didn’t need to know that. “A creative soul.” He said with a gleam in his eye, that somehow worried you a little. “I suppose so. I mean, I enjoy writing, but I have a hard time working out you know, world building and characters.” You said with a smile, feeling surprisingly comfortable with him. “See, that’s why I act. I don’t have to worry about all of that, darling.” The nickname made you feel warm. “You do a great job at it.” He chuckled. “You seem surprisingly comfortable for a first-time interviewer. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” There was a twinge of flirtation in his voice, that you didn’t know how to read – either he meant something by it, or he was just doing it to make you feel comfortable. “As I said, not that many. You’re not my first rodeo.” You grinned. “Although, you’re the biggest bull to ride.” You blushed and swore internally. “Fuck, sorry… I didn’t mean to, fuck…” You chastised yourself. “And now I’m cursing. I’m giving a really great first impression, huh?” He was laughing hard, fingers deftly wiping stray tears away. “I enjoy it. A lot less formal. And I’m happy to be your first big-bull ride.” You wanted to die.  

“Okay, all the awkwardness and me being a complete ditz aside, are you ready to get started?” You asked, trying to brush the feeling of absolute dread and embarrassment off from your shoulders. “Sure.” He sat up straighter, and you fiddled with your cards, catching your breath and finally, turned the camera on. You smiled softly at him. “Thank you for being here, Henry, it’s great meeting you.” He smiled back. “Always nice to meet a fan.” You blinked. And then blinked again. You hadn’t mentioned being a fan, but he must’ve known from the review of The Witcher. “So… You’ve done a lot of different ventures, but you somehow always land back in either action or period-pieces. Do you want to try something else out?” He smiled widely. “Yeah. Yes, I do. I think action just kind of fits me, and I got my start in period-pieces, so they have a… Special place in my heart, really.” You grinned at him. It made sense to you – Tristan and Isolde and the Tudors were some of your favorite works of his. “Anything in particular, you’d want to try?” You asked, crossing your legs. You hadn’t been wrong, the cologne he was wearing was infiltrating your senses completely and made you feel very wet. “Oh, sure. I would like to be a daddy.” He said, not a sliver of discomfort and you felt all the color drain out of your face. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. “I even came across a script where I was one. I think it was called something along the lines of lean on me.” He said, a crooked smile on his lips.

Oh, you were definitely going to die. How did he know the title to one of your fanfictions? It was too big of a coincidence if he just happened to come across a script with that title and the implication, that was laced in his words meant that he very much didn’t mean a dad, but the more… Filthy iteration.

“Oh?” you squeaked. “Indeed. I mean, I’m not… I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to live up to that particular script, it was very… Descriptive.” He grinned and you were sure you were in hell. Maybe you died in the elevator, and this was your hell. You cleared your throat. “What about romance?” You asked, trying desperately to veer the conversation away from whatever it was, when you remembered the sheer amount of fluff you had stored in that fucking account. “Oh, yes, definitely. I’d love to do romance.” He answered with a wicked smile. Shit. Something was going to go very wrong with this conversation. “I mean, I’ll probably not do the standard romance.” “What do you mean?” Your own curiosity took over and you decided – maybe not intentionally – to forgo whatever questions you had on your damn cards. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve done too much rough…” He grinned wickedly at you again. “So I think standard romance is a little far away from what people expect of me.” You squeezed your legs together. “I think I might want to do something like 50 shades, someday. But better. Maybe like an A B C of sex.” You were ready to fucking explode. There was no chance he hadn’t read your things – that was a title to a very long, multichapter work of fiction, you had poured over for a long time. Fucking shit. You turned the camera off and sighed. “I’m guessing you’ve read my things.” You said defeatedly, your cheeks burning with shame. “I’m so sorry, it’s not an excuse, but I had never in my life thought that you’d read them, much less meet me. I was hesitant taking the interview because of it, and I’m just really…” You closed your eyes. “Sorry.” He chuckled a little, and you opened your eyes, seeing him leaning forwards. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, his voice dropping a little. It was like melting chocolate. “Uh… For… You know, writing… Things… About you. And your… Prowess?” You said, hesitant and slightly confused as to why he wasn’t blowing up on you. “Oh, I don’t mind. I know people write these things, I’d be a real arsehole if I was upset about it. Creativity is good, and I’m happy to inspire that kind of work.” He grinned, long, thick fingers sliding against his knees. “I will say, I’m slightly disappointed.” He said and you knew it was coming – you were getting fired, and you’d lose your job, never write again, and dig a hole under a bridge to live in or something. “I’m sorry.” He ignored your whimpering apology, simply standing up and walking the short distance between the two of you, effectively caging you in between his arms. “Is the camera off?” He asked, nodding to it. “Yes.” You whispered, acutely aware of the chokehold his entire demeanor had on you. “Good.” He leaned closer. “I’m disappointed…” You sucked in a sharp breath when he ducked his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “That there wasn’t more to read.” You swallowed thickly. “Wh-what?” He hummed. “I had hoped to find more. Surprisingly, you’ve managed to get a read on me, despite never having met me before. I was quite taken with the way you wrote… The things, you’d imagine I would do to you, darling.” His voice was low and dripping with lust now. You had no idea what the hell was going on, but you weren’t one to complain. This was a dirty dream, possible a daydream that you’d gotten lost in, but you did not want to wake up. “I did?” You asked softly, fingers itching to touch him. “You did. Although you were lacking a few things…” he whispered back, his forehead against yours – his eyes found yours, and you were certain you had died. There was no way in the living, real world, that Henry motherfucking Cavill was implying whatever he was implying right now, with you. “Oh?” Your response was less than stellar, but you had a feeling he didn’t care. “Yes.” His lips were so tantalizingly close, you could almost taste them, but just as you had decided to move your head to your lips meet his, he drew back with a wicked smile. “You’re a very interesting person, darling. Would you like to continue the interview?” He asked, voice laced with implication. You were shaking and swallowed thickly, steadied your breathing and focused on his face. “I can.” You answered in a measured tone. His lips curled into a crooked, devilish smile as he sat down, leaning back and put his leg on top of the other – his eyes were burning into you. “Good girl.”

----------

It was pure torture. You had called your boss quickly, asking how to delete footage because you had been interrupted – not a lie – by his assistant – definitely a lie – and had resumed the interview afterwards. You were burning, your panties soaked through as he answered whatever question you had posed, with a calmness that made you squirm. He managed to pull at least one thing from your writing into his answers, making it very clear that he liked to torture you. It was insane, the tension in the room was thick enough to taste, and you were a quivering mess when you finally concluded the interview with a final question. “So, this is a question from a fan.” You said breathily, finding his eyes again. He cocked an eyebrow. “Bring it on.” You smiled. You might know how the tension felt in the room, but you supposed that to everyone else, he seemed very approachable and levelheaded. “Would you ever date a fan?” You groaned a little at the question but hid it behind a cough. Of course, someone had to ask. He chuckled. “Oh, that depends on a lot of things.” He ran a hand over his face, and you could swear, you saw him coming up with an answer, that would make you squirm the most. “Like what?” “Oh, easy. If they have plans to make me a daddy.” You choked on your own spit and coughed, for real this time as he grinned wickedly. “I’m kidding. No, yeah, I would possibly date a fan. I don’t think I should limit myself to people, who either hate my work or doesn’t see it. I think fans…” He shot you a pointed look and your thighs trembled under his gaze. “Have a special point of view. I wouldn’t be opposed to it, at least.” You smiled and got your act together, trying desperately to end the damn interview so you could go home to your trusted, battery-driven friend and a solid amount of shame. “Thank you so much for taking time out to talk to me.” You began finishing the interview, rattling whatever the cards said, off, before turning the camera off and standing, wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt. “Seriously, thank you for taking the time out. And being somewhat amiable after finding out what… Well, finding my writings.” You tried to keep an air of professionalism to your voice. He stood as well. “No problem.” He smiled softly, the tension in the room was still unbearable. “Uhm, we have a guy coming for the camera in an hour, so… I’ll call…” “Or I could walk you down.” He cut you off, almost challenging you with his voice. “Really, you don’t have to, I’m more than capable.” You tried, but he shook his head and offered his arm. “What British gentleman would I be, if I didn’t make sure you got to the foyer safely, darling?” You took his arm and thanked all the gods in all of the universes that this was your life right now. “Alright.”

You both stood, waiting for the elevator, and your body was buzzing. His cologne was like a fucking drug, and the fact that he easily towered a head – maybe even two – over you, made you want to crawl on your knees and call him daddy. Not that he’d ever be privy to that, but still. A girl could dream. “Here.” He said, handing you a scrap of paper. You took it with furrowed brows and looked down at hastily scribbled numbers. You looked back at him with confusion radiating from your body. “In case you ever want to doublecheck the validity of your claims.” He said, smirking. This man was everything and nothing, you had expected him to be. Before you could answer, the elevator dinged and he gestured for you to step inside, following you. Too late, you realized how one, far up you were – which meant it would be a long ride down – and two, just how tiny the goddamn elevator was when he was next to you. You tried to breathe, but it was like your throat was constricting around the very air, you craved, and you tried to control your unsteady everything, when you felt hot breath on your neck. “Turn around.” You didn’t have a choice. The command in his voice was enough for you. As soon as you were face to face with him, he groaned and grabbed a hold of your waist, his lips on yours with feverish desperation. You met him with equal amounts of desperation and want, clawing at his back to get something, anything, bring him closer; he understood your silent request, and moved to stand between your legs, hands dipping to your ass and tongue sliding across yours. You moaned at the feeling – he was commanding in his kiss, fingers rough against your ass, and he lifted you, pressing your back against the wall. You didn’t have a single thought in your head other than oh my god this elevator better move slowly when you heard fabric ripping. You gasped as his fingers found your clothed, soaked core without the restraint of your skirt, and you wrapped your legs around him, pressing yourself against his fingers. He growled, fucking growled, and tugged on your lower lip, causing a stuttering moan to fall from your lips. “Oh, darling, you like it rough, don’t you?” He whispered against your lips, fingers grazing your wetness. “Look at you, so wet already… Did you imagine all the things I could do to you, when you were interviewing me?” His voice sent shivers down your spine, and wetness pooled in you. You were putty in his hands, grinding down on fingers, that were still dancing on top of your underwear. “You want me to take you right here, in the elevator? Let everyone see just how dirty I can be, darling?” You mewled as he pushed your underwear to the side, fingers dipping into you. “Fuck, feel how wet you already are for me… You take my fingers so well, darling, don’t you? Like a good, little whore…” You whimpered and felt yourself gush around him. “Henry, please, please…” “Please what?” His lips moved to your neck, biting down on the skin and you could feel the smile on his lips, when you clenched around him. “Please, faster, I’m begging you…” You moaned, writhing. You knew the elevator had to stop at some point, and you were desperate to have him before. “Needy, aren’t you, darling?” despite the teasing tone, his fingers sped up. “You’re not going to cum until I’m buried in you.” He growled and you saw stars. How the fuck were you going to hold back on that, when his fingers were so fucking thick and in you? He must’ve sensed your thoughts, because he pulled his fingers out and you whined. His hand found your face, the smack sounding loud in the quiet of the elevator, and your face tingled. You were about to explode, when he slapped you again before his fingers held your chin in a vice, eyes boring into yours. “Don’t be a fucking brat, darling, or you’ll get to see how bad I can get.” He said in a low, dangerous voice. He pinned you against the wall, his free hand undoing his pants. You couldn’t help yourself and smirked. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He grinned; eyes dark – he loved it. He tightened his grip on your chin. “Mouth.” You obeyed orders without a second thought. You barely knew the real version of him, but you trusted him completely. “Good girl.” He spat at you, and you moaned as it landed on your tongue. Still holding your chin tightly, his thumb found your tongue, rubbing the spit into it with a low rumble in the back of is throat. “I want to fuck your pretty, little, obedient mouth, but we’re running out of time, darling.” He mumbled before kissing you deeply, moaning at the feeling of your tongue against his; he pulled away and pulled his body away just enough for him to look down at his hard, leaking cock, he had pulled out, and spat at it as well, hand quickly fisting it and rubbing it into his shaft. Your heart was pounding out of your chest – you were going to get fucked by Henry Cavill in a very public elevator, and you wanted nothing more. “You want me to take you, darling? Want me to fill you, fucking split you with my cock?” You were a moaning mess but managed to stutter. “Y-yes, daddy.” He growled and pushed his long, thick cock inside of you, bottoming out – you almost came on the spot, clenching hard around him. He chuckled and his hand found your exposed ass and spanked it hard. “Not yet, darling.” He murmured, lips back on your throat, sucking dark markings on it. He wasn’t moving at all, but you felt the shake of his arms – he wanted it as much as you did. “Please, please, need you to move…” You gasped, feeling him twitch inside of you. “Since you asked so nicely…”

He moved, pulling and slamming his length into you, and you gasped, holding on to his shoulders for dear life, as he began pounding you like his life depended on it. You didn’t have a thought in your head other than more and it was like he was reading your mind, because he growled again, the sound vibrating in your core, and one hand found your throat, holding tightly to it, squeezing the air from your lungs as he fucked you deeply, the head of his cock nudging your cervix constantly. “P-please…” You groaned through a tight throat. “You want to cum? Want to cum on my cock, darling?” You nodded eagerly. “Oh, you’re being so good, look at you taking me so well…” He groaned and pounded you again, the elevator rattling a little. “Look at me.” He ordered and you forced your eyes open, finding his eyes. “You can cum, baby.” He fucked you relentlessly as pleasure erupted in you, slick gushing on his pants and you were stuck in a silent scream. You came harder than you ever had before, your slick pussy clenching him, drawing him deeper and he grunted.

A sudden pling of the elevator-doors made you whine; it opened to the very shocked face from Natalie, but Henry was feral and clearly didn’t care. “Hi, Natalie…” He grunted, still fucking you – this time a little slower. “This sweet girl forgot to press a button…” He sent you a wicked smile. “But as you can see, we’re not quite done yet…” He kissed your neck and Natalie squeaked. “Darling, would you press that button?” You leaned to the side, muttering a fuck under your breath as he moved and nudged a very sensitive spot, pressing the button to close the doors. Henry smiled at Natalie. “I’ll see you later.” The doors closed, and as soon as they were closed, he pressed the emergency stop before slamming deeply inside of you again.

“Now, darling, better hurry up…” He mumbled against your skin, hips snapping with unrelenting force, as he chased his own high. You were lost, completely gone with the pounding of his cock, and you mewled against him, nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck, you are a good little slut, aren’t you? Getting fucked in the elevator makes you wet, darling?” You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. He groaned and bit down on your heated skin again, leaving another mark. “Want me to fill you, darling? Right here, in the elevator? Filling this tight, little pussy?” he mumbled, his cock moving in and out of you so fast, you were barely hanging on. “Yes, fuck… Y-yes, fill me, please, daddy, pl-lease…” you moaned, gripping the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and tugged slightly. He roared and slammed up into you, impaling you and stretching you to the fullest. “Fuck, I’m coming, darling….” He murmured against your skin and you felt completely delirious – you wanted nothing more than whatever he wanted to give you. He growled and slammed his cock deeply inside of you, stilling as he filled you with ropes of hot cum, some of it spilling out around him. You were both panting as you came down and he slowly, but surely set you to your feet and moved your panties back in place before tucking his cock back in his own trousers. He kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours and fingers tangled in your hair. He pressed the emergency stop button again and then his floor, the elevator jumping back in action. He pulled away slowly with a sly smirk on his lips and his thumb stroked your bottom lip. You sighed happily and leaned against the wall of the elevator.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” He asked gently. You shook your head, feeling his spend slowly sticking your underwear to your slick, swollen pussy. “None whatsoever.” He grinned and wrapped his arm around you, kissing your hair.

“How about we co-wrote something?”

--------------------

TAGLIST:  @acaceta​ @a-skov​ @angelmather1​ @cooldreamlandsandwich​ @est1887​ @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @fionnthebandersnacc​ @herroyalbubbliness​ @keiva1000​ @kebabgirl67​ @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red​ @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler​ @pandaxnienke​ @perfunctory-username69 @sleutherclaw​ @summersong69​ @spookyboogyuniverse​ @stardusted26​ @thereisa8ella​ @timetraveller4​ @thatonechickhere​ @themanfromu​ @thelastpyle​ @yourlocalhoney​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​  

[nobylite]

that ask game. do all of them for date.

now youve gone and done it <- evil and deranged

🏳️‍🌈 lgbt+ headcanon: he is so bisexual it's not even funny. also i think post ai1 he stops giving a shit about gender. he still uses he/him pronouns but he's so detached from himself he literally doesn't care. new flavor of nonbinary

💌 fluffy headcanon: the nikujaga isn't the only thing he's good at cooking. he's not like, a five-star chef, but he's really good at home-cooked meals. he's one of those parents who makes those cute lunch boxes for his kids. he cuts mizuki's apple slices into rabbits

💔 angsty headcanon: he haaates mirrors. he can't stand seeing his reflection- because it always looks like someone else

🧸 hurt/comfort headcanon: he craves physical affection a lot. during the worst of it, aiba will forego charging at night to stay near his neck. she may be small, but she's some form of contact, and that's enough

🪀 silly headcanon: iris does eventually get him to play minecraft. he sucks shit at it but he plays it with her anyways

💤 sleep headcanon: he doesn't usually dream, but when he does, he'll sleeptalk

✨ a ship i like with this character: date/hitomi :] date is the milfhunter of all time

🔪 a ship i don't like with this character: date/ryuki. sorry. the power gap is weird, date just sees him as his subordinate. and date likes his men thick and milfy too, and let's face it. ryuki is a sad little twink

🎃 something i think they're afraid of: fireworks, and the sound of explosions. whoops

📦 overall feelings about them: he's everything to me. jesus fucking christ. if i was in a room with him i would make him leave with new pronouns

📢 favorite thing about them in canon: the fact that he adopts mizuki. that's his DAUGHTER!!

🧨 least favorite thing about them in canon: the... uchikoshi-isms. [gesturing towards the speaker thing]

💬 favorite line they've said: "i hate you, aiba. i hate you, and i never want to see you again."

🔔 unpopular opinion: even though his body is 42 post ai1, date continues saying he's 30 because it feels better. just because he regained falco's memories doesn't mean they feel like his, and he's spent so long calling himself 30 that it's easier to just stick with it. post aini, his body is 48, but he just calls himself 42. it's a halfpoint between saito's age and falco's

🔊 a song that reminds me of them: 45 by shinedown

📝 misc thoughts/headcanons: he's autistic :]

[2dmenenthusiast]

I can't remember if I sent this to you already but could I request headcanons for aizawa, hizashi and Toshinori finding their s/o that has a chipmunk quirk that makes her fall into hibernation when it's too cold (kinda like tsu) but when the guys find her with her heart rate low and her breathing shallow maybe they freak a little bc she didn't tell them about that part of her quirk yet

omggggg this idea is literally so cute I got so excited when I first read it. Also thank you love for comin through with the requests, I really appreciate it! <3 I also hella struggled cuz like, what can someone with a chipmunk quirk do? Stuff their cheeks? Climb up trees? Also I legit forgot what a chipmunk even looked like I had to look it up lmaoooo im so dumb it hurts

Aizawa is an intimidating fella, okay

So when you first told him about your quirk, you were lowkey embarrassed?

Like, here’s this grown-ass man with a badass quirk who is more than capable of taking down villains and defending himself, and here you are just-

🐿️

But you know what’s great about this man? He couldn’t give less of a shit about your quirk or anything like that. He strikes me as the type to care more about personality than anything else

concealing your quirk is fairly easy. People probably wouldn’t even know you had one if it wasn’t for the small fluffy ears popping out of the top of your head, and even then you could just cover them with a hat

But that doesn’t mean you don’t experience the effects of your own quirk just because it’s subtle

You have a mutant type quirk, so you experience certain things that actual chipmunks do

Sometimes you won’t even notice that you’re stuffing your cheeks to full capacity with whatever you’re eating before Aizawa has to cut you off and just be like

“y/n. Chew.”

Or when you’re rushing, you’re usually going so fast that Aizawa can barely even see you zooming from room to room

you can also get kinda skittish at times, your ears twitching whenever you hear a noise that sounds weird or out of place, and you’ll just look at Aizawa with wide eyes until he checks out what made a noise that he could barely hear

“y/n, it was just some kids outside.”

“Oh... sorry, Sho.”

he wants to be frustrated, but he knows it’s not your fault. And honestly? He finds you so cute that he can’t really stay mad at you

So he’ll just let out a huff before patting your head lovingly, grazing his fingers over your ears (Which he KNOWS are sensitive, that asshole)

Experiencing long periods of deep sleep is also a thing. You wouldn’t call it hibernation cuz you still have to do normal, everyday things, but there are times during the winter where you’ll sleep for a few days in a row and only get up to go to the bathroom or eat

And since you can’t actually burrow into the floor of your home, you usually make a blanket fort in the corner of your bedroom and stuff all of the pillows and blankets you can in there until it’s nice and warm, ready for you to bury yourself in

and you might’ve left that little part of your quirk out when you moved in together. whoops

So when Shouta comes home and sees the living room couch void of all of its pillows, he’s not expecting to walk into your shared bedroom and see you curled up in a blanket fort

he’s a bit curious at first, just kinda looking at you like “All right, I guess this is normal?”

and he’ll crouch down and kinda examine you for a bit before he eventually wonders if you’re even breathing? You’re burried under blankets, so he can’t really see your chest moving

eventually he’ll check and see that your breathing is abnormally slow and he kinda just... pauses and checks again to make sure he’s not going crazy.

and he wont deny that he kinda freaks out at first, his immediate thought being that he needs to get you out of there, but the second he grabs the blankets to pull them off of you he’s like wait... hold up.

then it all clicks

you’re a mutant with a chipmunk quirk...

c h i p m u n k

safe to say he’s relieved, so he just lets you be and goes about his day. 

When you wake up a few hours later to go to the bathroom, you come out of the bedroom with your clothes practically on backwards, rubbing at your eyes and stumbling past Aizawa like he’s not even there. And when you’re done, it’s right back to sleep you go

“Back to bed?” Aizawa would ask as he watches you with an amused smirk on his face

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Goodnight, y/n”

“Mm’night.

Listen, when he first heard of your quirk, he thought it was the cutest shit ever

“Your quirk is Chipmunk?! That’s SOOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE!”

No he’s legit your number one hype man. If you think your quirk is lame, he’s literally shouting at you how cool he thinks you are.

“You can stuff so much food in your mouth, y/n! And that’s pretty dope if you ask me! I’m totally jealous!”

speaking of food, he’ll just randomly ask you to shove as much as you can of one thing in your cheeks until they’re at full capacity.

“Hey y/n, think you can shove this whole pack of jumbo marshmallows in your cheeks?”

“But... I just bought those :(”

“I’ll buy you more, LET’S DO THIS!!!”

also asks you the dumbest questions omg. You don’t know if he’s genuinely curious or if he’s just doing it to piss you off

“So do you just eat nuts all day?”

“You’ve seen me eat, Hizashi. No.”

“Do you prefer to sleep in trees?”

“That would be extremely uncomfortable.”

“Ooh you’d probably be great frieds with Kamui Woods then.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

He also REALLY likes your ears. Like an unhealthy amount? Whenever you’re around he literally wont stop touching them and even tugs on them playfully until you’re swatting at his hands and telling him to go away

He can’t help that they’re so cute :(

so on a particuallry cold day in winter when he has to go to work at the school, he leaves your home while you’re sleeping, only to come home hours later to find you... still sleeping?

You haven’t moved an inch the entire time he’s been gone, so needless to say, he’s a litle concerned.

and when he checks to see if you’re still alive only to discover your heart rate is super slow, he’s A LOT concerned

His brain just goes to the most dramatic thing he can think of, which is that you’re in some weird coma and need to wake up

so rather than, i dont know, gently shaking you awake like a normal person, he grabs you buy your shoulders and starts shaking you violently while shouting your name loud as fuck

“Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

you literally wake up so violently, you sit right up and shove him off of you before asking what’s wrong with him, pretty sure you’ve officially gone deaf

He then explains that he thought you were in a coma or something cuz your heartbeat was so slow, and at that point you just roll your eyes because of course he would come up with this ridiculous conclusion

“Hizashi, my quirk is chipmunk and it’s a mutation quirk.”

He doesn’t even get what you’re getting at, just tilting his head in confusion as he squints at you.

“What do chipmunks do in the winter, babe?”

Cue more confused squinting

“Oh my god, they hibernate, you headass.”

it finally clicks and the look on his face makes it seem like he just learned the secret of the universe, and afterwards he’s going on about how cool that is while you just roll your eyes and lay back down to try and go back to sleep, bringing the blanket over your head to try and drown him out

He eventually gets the hint and leaves, but after a while, you kinda feel bad for blowing up on him. He was just concerned and didn’t fully understand your quirk

so letting out a huff, you pull the blanket down and call out his name, to which he immediately runs to you at the sound of, asking you what you need

you just wordlessly lift up the blanket to expose the empty side of the bed, and oh boy, the size of the grin he gets on his face is unmatched

immediately throws off his hero costume so that you can both be comfortable and jumps into bed with you, holding you impossibly close

you fall asleep in a matter of minutes while he just looks at you fondly, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

Just like the other two, he finds you incredibly cute. Like mans is in love, okay?

everytime he sees your little ears twitch, he just gets the strongest urge to touch them, but he never does without your consent becuase he knows how sensitive they are.

“Uh... y/n, do you mind if I... touched your ears?” 

Baby probably feels so awkward asking ugh PLEASE REASSURE HIM

“Oh? Yeah, of course, Toshi. Knock yourself out.”

oooh he’s excited. He’ll be super gentle about it, just lightly grazing them with his fingers before gently rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger

and at that point you’re littlerally melting, practically falling into him because him caressing your ears like this feels absolutely amazing

When he sees how it’s affecting you, he immediately becomes a blushing mess and apologizes, but you just hug him and tell him it’s okay and that you liked it

yeah he definitely rubs your ears whenever you’re feeling stressed or anxious because it’s become a quick way to relax you

only when he does it though. If anyone else randomly touches your ears, you get kinda uncomfortable

Just because they don’t look human doesn’t mean they still weren’t a part of you, dammit

Anyways, one day when you’re waiting for Toshi to come back home, you’ve got yourself wrapped up like a burrito in your blanket, sitting on the couch as you watched tv

it had been snowing all day, but luckily Toshinori had turned up the thermostat before he left, remembering how you mentioned that you’re not a huge fan of the cold

unfortunately for you, the harsh weather had no trouble taking out the power, leaving you in the dark and the cold

it didn’t take long for the cold to start seeping in through the cracks in the windows, and you quickly began to grow tired before you inevitibly passed out on the couch, still wrapped tightly in your blanket

When Toshi gets home and sees you on the couch, his first reaction is “aw, how cute.”

but then when he comes up to you and starts calling out your name to try and wake you up and you just won’t, and then he notices how much your breathing has slowed down, he quickly growns concerened.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, but he’s getting there, and he’s quick to crouch down to your level and grab your shoulders to start shaking you to wake you up

which you do, blinking groggily at him like you weren’t just in full hibernation mode

“Oh... Hey, Toshi,” you mumble, and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down so that you can nuzzle yourself into his warm chest

He’s not able to ask you about what happened to you before you’ve already fallen back asleep, and when the power comes back on a few minutes later, he does a quick google search on chipmunks and mutant quirks before putting two and two together

Now he’s thinking of all the ways he could make you something to burrow into during those especially cold winters

[multi-lefaiye]

hi hello hi i am rotating sad people and fragile things and the void walkers in my brain and was wondering if i could maybe possibly hear smth abt them

hi hello hi yes!!! i am honored, thank you, and yes absolutely i can share Information about them!!!! i'll share a little from each of these, though for void-walkers i'm probably gonna just share something with juno b/c juno is the main one i've been developing. what can i say? i love them. they're such a bitch. i'm gonna do these in reverse order <3 ye

this got so fucking long, i am so so sorry-

void-walkers: so void-walkers in general haven't had much development as of late because i'm still just kinda rotating them in my head and going "hm!" so what i mainly have to offer is a little bit of the thing i've been writing on and off with juno, exploring their backstory!!! wahoo :3 this is kind of a long excerpt, please bear with me whoops- (content warning: this is a whole bit talking about abusive relationships, but there's no graphic discussions of abuse, just kinda talking about it in general)

“What did you mean?” the spirit asked finally. Juno knew what she was asking, but they looked at her curiously anyway. “When you said that ‘they usually do.’ What did you mean by that?” There was an urgency to her voice now, and Juno knew that they weren’t going to get away from her questioning this time.

A soft sigh escaped them, and they took a long moment to answer her question. When they finally spoke, they met the spirit’s dead eyes with a flat expression.

“What I meant,” Juno began, their voice hollow and distant, “is that there are a lot of people like that. Angry, vicious bastards who think the world owes them everything, and they take it out on those around them if they don’t get exactly what they want.”

Their cigarette was nearly out now, hardly a flickering light in the darkness. They hardly cared.

The spirit was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “... And they like fighting because-”

Juno turned their eyes away from the spirit, cutting her off before she could finish. "They like to fight because they always win; it's how they stay in control. They make it out to be all your fault, and they say they’re doing you a favor by sticking around and making you better.” Their voice came out sharper than they meant it to, but it was too late to take it back now.

Unconsciously, they clenched their fingers and crushed what remained of their cigarette. The flickering light was snuffed out, leaving the two in darkness.

“… You seem to know your shit. You a psychiatrist or something?” The spirit’s voice was incredulous, and the thought was almost enough to make Juno laugh as they tossed aside their cigarette.

“Nah,” they said, offering her a sardonic grin. “I’ve just been around the block a few times, you could say.”

fragile things: fragile things is rotating in my head once again and i am so so sad thinking about my sad little gay people!! i could share some of the sad and angsty scenes, but those hurt me and i want to share a fluffy one! i haven't fully written up this scene yet, but i want to share some of the outline i have for the scene after noah's graduation:

- Noah graduates with honors in May 2010 - Arthur graduated two years before, and he makes sure to come to Noah's graduation--he's one of the loudest in the crowd calling his name - After the ceremony, Arthur finds Noah and pulls him into a big ol' bear hug, excitedly congratulating him - Noah is so excited, he can't stop smiling - Noah's mom Victoria finds them (she's never met Arthur before, but Noah has told her about him) - Arthur is a bit nervous but excitedly introduces himself to Victoria, telling her that she should be very proud to have such a great son - Victoria smiles and agrees, while Noah gets embarrassed and insists that Arthur's exaggerating. Some playful bickering ensues as Victoria watches - Victoria invites Arthur to have dinner with them, and he agrees, slinging an arm around Noah's shoulders - Victoria is glad he agreed and tells him as such, and she makes a teasing remark about making sure Arthur has good intentions for her sweet boy - Arthur falls quiet and Noah gets even more embarrassed and flustered as he insists to his mom that there's nothing romantic happening, and Victoria laughs and says she's just teasing - She thanks Arthur for being such a good friend for Noah, and says that the invite for dinner is still open - Noah notices that Arthur is still smiling, but he looks a little sad--Noah resolves to ask him about that later and make sure he's okay

sad people: so i haven't been developing sad people too much aside from thinking a little on the logistics, but i do have a bit of dialogue i wrote with the main cast! not sure who exactly is saying what, but y'know what that's okay <3

gonna stick it under the cut because uhhhh well. this is some dark humor/jokes about suicide and suicidal ideation (think gallows humor), which is the kind of humor that would be throughout this wip. please tread lightly!

"Hey, I know you're probably having a really bad day today, and I get that, but I'd appreciate it if you could just... y'know... leave." "What?" "I came up here to kill myself, and I don't really wanna do it with someone else here, so-" "How do you know I'm not here to kill myself, too?" "Well, sucks to be you, then. I got here first." "I didn't realize you had to make a fucking reservation to throw yourself off a building." "That's capitalism for ya'." "I don't think you know what that means."

[shortiedreams]

Evening lectures

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Synopsis: Basically professor Levi and you’re his student.

CW: None :)

A/N: ARGHRWJIEDHAW I’m sorry I love professor x students plots. Things that break the code of conduct is the trope for me. So you can probably guess why I brain dumped this here instead of doing my work. Please enjoy! If you want a part 2 (which I’ll probably end up doing in the future anyway), you can request for it. Now cue in the fluffy headcanons~

_

So it’s your night class, 7pm, and you’re especially excited for this class.

Why? Well maybe because the professor is Levi Ackerman - your boyfriend - but nobody has to know about that except the both of you.

The students disperse themselves across the halls, none of them are sitting at the front though.

That’s not because Mr Ackerman is someone have a immense course of dislike for, it’s just because he scares the living hell out of them. 

You’d sit at the very front of the class, purposely of course.

He’d be trying to focus on lecturing, but every now and then, curiosity gets the better of him and his eyes trail towards your figure.

You’re writing notes whilst smiling, and he sort of blushes (the heat rising to his cheeks until he’s aware of it) seeing you so interested in his lessons.

You make him feel exceptionally special and he doesn’t know why at first.

Maybe because others have dozed off in his class before? Maybe because he overheard some students saying that he was boring? But it’s strange because he’d never let that get to his head.

If they don’t want to listen to him, it’s their loss.

So yes, the answer is just you and your charm.

During the rest of the time frame, you continue your custom of jotting down notes and smiling at him.

When you make eye contact, you giggle and he furrows his brows to indicate that you’re distracting him.

You both know that he secretly likes it though, so whoops! Maybe not so much of a secret anymore.

Whilst he gives time for other students to write their notes, you lock eyes again and he’s mouthing quips to start up a banter.

“After class?” 

You nod. Obviously.

He mouths something else to you but you can’t seem to make out what he’s saying. So he pulls out his phone and points at it, signalling that he’ll text you whatever he just said instead.

Levi: Let’s head to Tesco later.

Yes, the boomer texts with full punctuation and capitalisation, unlike you.

You: tesco? why tesco? 🤥

You can see the difference.

Levi: To pick up a few things. I’ll be cooking dinner for us tonight.

You: that sounds lovely 😽

You look up to see Levi chuckling a bit.

Levi: Anyone told you that you look pretty today?

You: no not rlly

Actually the dude from your morning session did compliment you - Mark, no it’s something else... Marco! That’s right.

You don’t want to ruin the moment with Levi though, knowing that he gets jealous easily and the fact that you can’t even remember the guy's name.

Levi: You’re really pretty. There you go.

You: hehe… thank you mr ackerman

You then send him a cute blowing kiss chibi gif and how does he react? Duh, obviously he blushes…

The old man loves giddy shit like this. He’d rather die than having to admit it though.

He clicks his phone and tucks it back into his pockets. 

He continues his lecture almost as if nothing happened and you mentally remind yourself how good he is at hiding your relationship.

It’s fine, you can deal without PDA, dating him is already a big honour.

_

After class, the students rushed out of the halls with looks ready to hit the sack any minute.

You stay back, and the students are too tired to even notice that you’re not leaving, like every other night you have Mr Ackerman.

Night classes have their fair share of pluses, you suppose.

You stare at Levi expectantly and he walks over to you when he notices the last of his students leave.

Everyone besides you.

You look up at him next to you with his hand out.

He smiles, “Shall we get going then?”

You grab your notebook and supplies, shoving it into your tote bag.

“Yup!” and you happily take his hand.

You walk together hand in hand, and you swing your hands around like a child, skipping.

You’re really content, really really content with your old man.

Levi doesn’t seem to back down or anything, he lets you carry out your childish acts.

For some reason, that adds to your cuteness. If anyone else did that, he’ll probably scoff in distaste.

You walk the isolated back route that’s technically exclusive for staff but you have that pass due to Levi.

Luckily for you, your university never made explicit rules prohibiting a professor-student relationship so you didn’t have to worry about the few CCTVs nearby either.

You were sure it was discouraged, but it was allowed in the end.

Levi scans his card out to the parking lot and the both of you walk up to his car.

He drives to the grocery store while the both of you talk about your day, mostly you because Levi was much more of a listener.

Also he’s done enough talking for today. Lectures cause his throat to run dry.

He likes seeing you ramble on about how your other classes were not as entertaining as his. The comparison flatters him.

One of his hands rubs your thighs and you don’t even flinch since it’s a norm for you. 

And anyway you’re really passionate about slandering your other professors oddly enough.

“You know it’s rude to say that about Mr Henderson.”

“I don’t care. He’s so- WEDAHEDHEWDU”

Levi chuckles as you eventually break out into gibberish.

_

At the grocery store Levi literally spoils you.

Like he really goes all out.

He’s basically volunteering to be your sugar daddy at this point.

He drops things into his cart that he notices you’ve liked to snack away on when studying.

He also drops the things that you’ve been eyeing without saying a word. 

You see the cart full of ingredients, not only for dinner but the snacks are occupying at least 40% of the space too.

He went ham.

“Mr Ackerman…” you sigh, “now how will we finish all of this?”

“Informal names off hours, Miss.”

“Levi.” you correct yourself, but also to make an assertion that you want an answer.

“It’s no big deal. I’ll treat you tonight.”

You want to argue but you’re also not in the mood. You know Levi takes great pleasure in spoiling you and making you feel like a complete princess. 

It’s not like you mind anyway.

You distract yourself at the counter from the paycheck because you know that you’ll end up butting in if you see the price.

Levi swiftly scans his credit cart and the both of you saunter back to his car.

Your hands are wrapped around his arm as you lean in all giggly.

He’s offered to take the plastic bags for you like he always does.

It’s honestly so cute.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Dialogue prompt

“Because I knew you wouldn’t!”

Spicy or no

okay so this one got... weird on me. but this is the Bouncey Castle so you know the ending is soft as fuck

Also I got so into this that I forgot to use the prompt you sent me but... Here you go?

based on Tove Lo’s “Habits (Stay High)” - modern au ‘post mountain’

tw: party scene, alcohol mention, marijuana use for the wrong reasons, dumb boys having feelings in public, mild panic attack, hurt/comfort with a very fluffy ending

---

Jaskier slams the rest of his drink and delights in the crinkling sound of Solo’s signature red plastic crumpling in his fist. He’s got an elbow-length fingerless glove on the hand that crushed the cup; he looks good enough to fucking eat and he... he’s fucking lonely. 

“Want a hit?” a voice asks from his left, offering a lit joint. The tip glows a light orange in the dim of the basement room and for a moment the young musician understands how Eve felt as she stared down the snake in the Garden of Eden. He pushes the thought aside with a whoop of overacted excitement and takes a drag, letting the smoke swirl into his lungs and mask the taste of whisky that somehow refuses to abandon the back of his tongue. 

Notes of Geralt’s favorite brand, some stupidly expensive Scottish malt that, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, tasted like damp peat moss and smelled like shoe-shine, cling to his every breath. 

He feels trapped, suddenly claustrophobic in his seat on some beat-up leather couch. Who are these people? He stands and sways, eyes darting towards the staircase. I need some air. He lurches forward, unsteady, and does his level best to swim through the crush of bodies in the darkness. 

---

Jaskier loves the smell of damp earth. It reminds him of springtime and rain-showers. The almost primordial glee that fills his chest cavity when that familiar mustiness hangs in the air is indescribable. 

Now, leaning against the dank brick wall of an apartment building somewhere just south of the park, the cheer escapes him. He pounds his hands backwards into the jagged brick, momentarily grateful for the distraction of physical pain; his eyes are full of tears that simply refuse to fall despite his greatest efforts. 

The beer is wearing off and the one hit of weed hadn’t done much to begin with other than make him a little dizzy. He wishes he had something else on hand. He wishes he had grabbed something on the way out. He wishes...

Jaskier wishes Geralt hadn’t said all those terrible things in front of his best friend and ex-lover, effectively blaming his boyfriend for his problems and ending things for good.

He doesn’t want to think about-

“Jaskier?”

Geralt.

The musician glances up through his bangs and sees the blurred outline of a dark shape looming before him. Fuck my life. 

“Oh hey, Geralt,” he laughs humorlessly. Isn’t this just fucking perfect. Why does he still have the worst fucking timing on the Continent?

“Are you okay?” 

“What does it look like?” Jaskier laughs again. He wipes his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his denim jacket and the fishnets suddenly more childish than sexy... like he used to wear in middle school when he wanted nothing more than to marry Gerard Way and escape his life as a politician’s son. 

“Do you- Are you going-”

“I can walk myself home, Geralt. I’m a big boy. I can be responsible,” Jaskier snaps. The taller man flinches away and Jaskier is surprised. He thought his ex would have been over him far earlier than this. The musician was always the emotional one. Geralt doesn’t say anything for a moment and Jaskier shakes his head, turning away towards his own apartment. “Nice seeing you, I suppose.”

He takes three steps and then hallucinates. It has to be some kind of auditory hallucination because he thinks, he’s very sure that he’s made it up but he thinks he hears Geralt gasp his name. 

Like prayer. Like a desperate, heart-rending plea. 

Then there’s a large, familiar hand wrapping around his upper arm, jerking him to a stop. “Jaskier, please! I’m so sorry!”

He stops walking and glances back over his shoulder. The lamplight is haloed behind Geralt’s white hair, making his manbun look more like a heavenly crown than anything else. His golden eyes flash into view and Jaskier has to hold back a gasp when their gazes meet. 

Geralt looks like shit. 

His eyes are dull and tired, rimmed with purple bags. His skin is paler than usual and his scars stand out in stark contrast; Jaskier finds his hand wandering to Geralt’s shoulder of its own accord. Settling there. Steadying the other, stronger man. “Oh, Geralt...”

“I’m-” the man before him sobs openly beneath the obnoxious LED light. Jaskier watches in shock as Geralt falls to his knees on the pavement and clutches at his hands with such raw determination that it’s nearly frightening. “Gods, I’m so sorry. I should never have said those things, much less in front of Yennefer. I owe you so many apologies. I haven’t been able to- I haven’t been sleeping and I know it’s my own damn fault because I- You’re so bright and beautiful and I can’t seem to stop myself from dousing the lights in my life and you were too precious to lose so...”

“So you pushed me away before I could leave.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Geralt deRiv.”

---

“What’s that whiskey called again?”

“Ardbegh.”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier laughs. He pours Geralt a glass and then pours a second for his brother, who’s visiting from across the Continent for summer vacation. “I still think it tastes awful.”

“I know. That’s why I buy you all that coffee flavored shit you love so much.”

“Don’t be mad at craft beer because it’s tasty!” Jaskier sticks his tongue out. He passes the boys their drinks before sinking gracefully into Geralt’s lap. “Tell me about school, Lambert! How are you liking your professors?”

Geralt’s hand squeezes his thigh gratefully beneath the table, never one for small talk himself, and Jaskier squeezes back. 

It had taken a lot of time, a lot of couple’s therapy, and some very nice dates... but things had worked out. Geralt had proven himself to be an idiot, sure, but even more importantly: he’d proved himself capable of growth and positive change. Jaskier could live with that. 

Growing and learning together was a much better option than growing old apart.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 4

Summary:

Alex tries to get Woods to open up on why he's been acting so... odd lately, and Woods proves himself to be emotionally intelligent and self aware

Tags: Slow burn, fluff

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 5 |Warnings: strong except language and some age difference, in case you don't like that

BAM BAM BAM

Mason fires off three shots in rapid succession, all of them hit a perfect headshot on the paper dummy. He whoops in disbelief, removing his earmuffs to brag to Woods.

“Damn, did you fucking see that?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, good shit Mason”, Frank agrees, yet he seems distracted.

Alex sneaks a glance at Frank’s shooting dummy to see it’s barely been touched. He looks back over at his friend. The Sargent smiles as though lost in a daydream, thoroughly cleaning and absentmindedly inspecting his gun over and over again. Mason cocks his head and waves a hand in front of Woods’ face.

“Hellooo”, he calls teasingly, “What’s the matter with you, huh?”

Frank blinks hard, giving his head a little shake, “Huh? The fuck are you talking about, I’m fine”, he blows off the question and readies his pistol down the firing lane, as though he were just taking a little break all along.

“Alright, that’s enough”, Alex puts his pistol down forcefully, adding his earmuffs to boot. “You wanna know something Frank? The real reason I brought you out here was because I was hoping you would open up, damn it! Look, you’ve been acting… not yourself. Ah! Let me finish! Anyway…”, Mason comes a little closer, taking on a more personal, concerned tone, “I’m worried about you man. I mean, we’ve known each other for how fucking long? Whatever it is, you can tell me, and I know you know that, so… What the fuck is holding you up?”

Frank spares a glance to the friendly hand resting on his shoulder, then back to the concerned eyes of his closest, and perhaps even only, friend. He shrugs Mason’s hand away, “It’s nothing man, come on”

“Oh, but it is something then?”, Alex takes on an accusatory tone that makes Frank bristle.

“I said, it’s fucking nothing”

“Frank!”

“What!”, Woods slams down his own firearm, turning his full attention to the conversation, “Why the hell do you need to know so badly anyway? I said it’s nothing, end of story! If anything, it’s fucking… stupid, so just drop it alright!”

“I care because I care about you, you bastard!”, Mason gestures aggressively to accentuate his point, but gives up soon after with a frustrated sigh.

But... Woods feels for his friend, and he appreciates the effort. Really, he does. It’s not often he has someone check in to see how he’s doing. Or… at all, really. He huffs a sigh and throws a look Alex’s way. Damn it…

“Fine. It’s about a girl, alright? You happy now?”, he looks away quickly, snatching up his firearm as though to get back to the target practice. Unfortunately, Alex has other plans.

He reaches across the divider and lowers Franks pistol from the shooting position, wearing a grin somewhere between bewildered and teasing. “Are you fucking serious? All this, for a girl?”

Woods immediately gets defensive, “Hey, fuck you! I-”

“Jesus Frank, calm down, will ya? I’m just… Well, surprised, I guess!”, he laughs, but in the disarming, good natured way that he’s so inclined towards. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, who is it? She must mean a lot to you to have you this bent out of shape, haha”

Frank thinks a moment, wondering if he should really give himself up like this… But then, he’s already in this deep, right?

“It’s… The secretary from the CIA headquarters…”, his voice is so low, it's more a dampened mumble than anything else.

Mason freezes, trying to decide if he heard him right.

“Frank… You can’t be serious.”, he leans in once more, taking on a now concerned, hushed tone, “I- Come on man, she’s just a kid. D-don’t you want a woman with a little more… experience, at least? I mean-”

Frank recoils at that, “Woah woah woah, what the fuck? Who the fuck said anything about that shit? It’s not like that!”

“Well ok, maybe life experience then! I don’t fucking know!”

“Look, will you stop trying to make me feel like shit?” What, you think I don’t already know all this? That I haven’t told myself about it a million fucking times!” Woods takes another breath, ready to spit out the rest of his speech. Instead, he uses it to steady himself, and calm down.

Come on… It’s just Alex.

“Damn it… Ok, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t think about her like that, ok? I-”, his voice drops to just above a whisper, his mouth working nervously, as though he’s afraid to admit what he has to say next. “I’m just so... lonely, damn it. I wish… I wish, I had someone like that around for just... company's sake, I guess? Someone who’s… sweet, and… gives a shit about me…. You know?”

Mason looks down, his face set in a look of sympathy, thinking back to his own happy life complete with his wife and son back home. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard this much emotion in Frank’s voice. “Yeah… I know…”

“Heh, but who gives a fuck. I mean, there’s no way she’d go for me, right?”, he huffs a humorless laugh. Frank goes silent for a long moment. It doesn't take his closest friend to see that everything he’s admitted to today weighs more heavily on him then one would even realize.

But suddenly, the despondency is broken. As though regretful to have been so vulnerable, he covers it up the Woods way, “Hey. If you fucking tell anyone I said this shit, I’ll fucking kill you”

He and Alex lock eyes, one with an unsure look of fear and the other one of dire seriousness. But, after he’s had his fun, Frank’s stern expression melts into a joking laugh. He gives Alex’s shoulder a playful shove, “Aw come on, I’m just messing with you! Let’s get back to the range, huh?”

Woods readies his shooting equipment again, and just before he puts on the earmuffs…

“Hey, Frank? ...Your secret is safe with me”, Alex smiles, earning a subtle one back from his friend.

“Heh, fucking softie…”

“You know what? Maybe... you could try talking to her, you know? I don’t really get it but… No harm in trying, right?”

Frank considers the advice. He’s serious, isn’t he? Well…

“Yeah, maybe…”

---

Frank looks at the double glass doors of the CIA offices, checking over his reflection one last time. He’s decided to take Mason’s advice… Today’s the day. He’s just going to go find you, try to not come off as a psycho again, and maybe ask you out to uh… coffee? Yeah, that’s what most people do, he thinks.

Last night, he ransacked his closet for this outfit. And wouldn’t you know it? Way, way back under the piles of shit, he found a nice, light grey dress shirt and some mostly polished leather shoes to go along with his good old jeans. Is this... ‘business casual’ or whatever the fuck? Hell if he knows, but he assures himself that it’s the effort that counts. He straightens the collar and smooths down the front, doing his best to ignore the way it hugs his abdomen just a bit too much for his liking.

He licks his thumb and swipes it once over each eyebrow, making sure to admire all the work he put in this morning. If anyone else saw him now, there’s a good chance they wouldn’t recognize him. Gone is the wild, fluffy mess of black hair, and instead he’s managed to slick it down into a respectable, controlled style. He even brushed and shaped up his beard, for Christ’s sake.

Well, no more fucking around, he supposes.

Frank takes a deep breath and pushes through the double doors. He wanders through the public section, then badges himself into the back offices. Now if he remembers correctly, he ran into you right about… down that way. Unfortunately, he only knows you by first name, thanks to that coffee shop place.

It’s a name that’s been playing back in his mind over and over again ever since that morning.

He’d never admit to it, but perhaps… only once or twice, he’s tested the way it sounds aloud. Just to hear it again. He knows he’s getting way too ahead of himself, but you know, if this were to ever work out… maybe another tattoo is in order. He brushes a hand absentmindedly over his left pec where even now his heart hammers away nervously.

It would be a fitting spot for the name of his girl…

A slow brigade of names on silver, engraved plates passes him by, until finally… There.

Your door is closed, but the sound of furiously fast typing tells him you’re in. He raises a hand to knock… Or, wait. Should he knock? Is that weird? Maybe he should just… come in? No no, that’s freaky as fuck… Right?

His thoughts are interrupted by the harsh ringing of your desk phone, which is silenced promptly as you answer. Damn it, now that he thinks about it, what should he even say? Fuck… he should’ve brought flowers or something, shouldn’t he? Fuck fuck fuck! He knew it, this was never going to work. Maybe he should just lea-

Suddenly, your door swings open. You shriek in surprise at finding another human being just on the other side, clapping a hand to your mouth as you correct yourself, only now realizing who it is. “Oh! Sarge- Um, Frank… I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you!”, you laugh, trying to break the tension that doesn't even exist.

No, right now, all he’s focused on is you...

The sound of your laughter washes over him, and once again he’s reminded of that warm, dream like summer breeze he felt with you not so long ago, back at the coffee shop. It almost makes him wish you would laugh at him more often… Just so he could hear that sweet, sweet sound. Today you’re wearing a pink pleated skirt and a tastefully ruffled blouse. Everything, from your shoes to the little touch of makeup, matches perfectly.

You look very… cute.

There’s a word he never thought he’d say….

Frank mutters something placating to reassure you that no harm’s been done, but it’s all he can do to stay upright. His face feels inordinarily warm, and he can actually feel his heart beating, no, racing, without even touching it. HE's almost sure he’s dying, and to make matters worse, he can’t recall ever having been made to feel this way before.

So, what the fuck is happening to him?

-------

(Uh oh, cliff hanger! Luckily, the next half is up!)

[derivativealigner]

Well I haven’t watched sp all the way through for about a decade now, so I thought it was time

Sometimes I wonder how accurate the fandom is when it comes to how we interpret the characters. Like, why is Stan a football star so often in fanfic and why’s Kyle always the smart one? So I thought I’d rewatch the show and make notes along the way to see where the source of all these interpretations is. I also wanted to see if I could get some fun info to analyze, but season 1 is pretty sparse in that regard so there’s not too much of that in this post, but I’ll make a post for all the other seasons too as I watch them

In summary, it’s established in season 1 already that Stan’s a star quarterback and an animal lover, Kyle’s an A+ student, and Kenny is poor and knows a lot about sex and doesn’t have many qualms about doing crazy shit. Cartman is a bit weird since he’s mostly just a naive brat in this season, but he and Kyle have a mildly antagonistic friendship already

I have all my notes under this cut. They include a bunch of small details and other observations. I also listed every Kenny death just because

Ike has freckles

Cartman says “Weak!” and “You guys” and “Seriously” a lot from the start, also “Kickass!” He doesn’t say weak or kickass much in the later seasons iirc

Stan says “Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here” three times in this season but they dropped that catchphrase pretty quickly

Bebe got named in episode 2

Stan’s been an animal lover since s01e03 Volcano since he won’t shoot a bunny or anything else. He does shoot Scuzzlebutt at the end though

Cartman’s a pathological liar but in a childish way

Randy got named in s01e03 Volcano (and it only got worse from there)

The mayor went to Princeton

South Park is next to Mt. Evanson

Kenny will literally drink gasoline

Stan’s a star quarterback in 3rd grade

Clyde’s voice is wrong as hell in S01E04 Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Boat Ride and he has a dog, Rex

Garrison says Kyle is an A+ kid

Shelly seriously abuses Stan, punching him, throwing him, maiming him with a lawnmower

Cartman had a pot-bellied pig called Fluffy

Cartman’s mom smokes crack and has sex with strange men

Dr. Mephesto is probably a Buddhist since he says “Thank Buddha” instead of “Thank God”

Clyde’s voice gets kind of fixed in S01E06

A guy called Mr. McCormick is killed in a protest, launched and splattered against a network building. He doesn’t look like Kenny’s dad though

Zombie Clyde attacks Bebe, rude

Wendy gave her costume contest prize (2 tons of candy) to hungry children in Nairobi

Cartman’s mom is on the cover of Crack Whore magazine. “Back do’ ho… Five on one action!” is the headline

Cartman genuinely cries at Kenny’s grave after the whole zombie thing but gets over it because of candy

Stan knows his mom’s credit card number and has no problem using it to adopt an Ethiopian child (the boys wanted a watch that came with the adoption, they weren’t doing it to be nice)

Cartman calls Stan a vas deference, Stan doesn’t know what that is so Kenny says “Dude, it’s a pipe for your peepee” (according to a transcript). Kenny sure knows male anatomy

Kyle sniffs Kenny after Cartman asks why poor people smell like sour milk and Garrison says “idk eric they just do”

Cartman thinks poor people should die and decrease the surplus population

When the boys get Starvin’ Marvin delivered to them, Cartman says “Hey mom, we found an Ethiopian, can we keep him?” and his mom says “Sure, hun.” She rarely says no to Cartman

Kenny’s dad is an alcoholic who drinks scotch according to Cartman. I mean, Mr. McCormick is seen drinking in multiple episodes and has a hat that says SCOTCH so it’s probably true

Kenny’s family says grace

Craig’s first appearance is S01E09. Also, S01E09 is the first time Kenny doesn’t die (Coincidence? I THINK yeah but it’s still fun)

Clyde got named in S01E10

Clyde and Bebe both spit on Pip’s face, friendship goals <3

Cartman and Kyle have their first fight at Cartman’s birthday party because Kyle didn’t give the right gift. Cartman slaps his face and  screams “I hate you! I want you to die! Die!” while on top of Kyle who’s not really fighting back

Satan throws a fight with Jesus after everyone except Satan bet that Jesus would lose, which leads to Satan winning everyone’s money. Mr. Garrison says “What a mean thing to do!” and Jimbo says “He is a jerk!” and I thought it was quite a laugh so I wrote it down

In S01E11 Tom’s Rhinoplasty Bebe and Wendy are sitting in the swings together and generally appear together throughout the episode, then Bebe gives Wendy a makeover so they’re bffs obviously <3

Craig first appears in the classroom, though not sitting down, in S01E11

Wendy’s not happy about Ms. Ellen taking Stan away from her, she says “Don’t fuck with me! Stay away from my man, bitch, or I’ll whoop your sorry ho ass back to last year!”

Kenny gives Ms. Ellen a scrumptious looking sausage as a valentine’s gift and giggles deviously. Wendy’s gift to Ms. Ellen is a dead animal

Even Kenny doesn’t know what a lesbian is

Wendy’s grandma died in S01E11

Wendy gets Ms. Ellen killed by hiring the Iraqi government (?) to put her in a rocket and shoot it into the sun, then she and Bebe have a pool party (very cool, they wear sunglasses 😎) and watch the rocket hit the sun

Cartman and Pip play a game of kicking each other in the nuts until someone falls. Cartman calls it “Roshambo”

Kenny has a sack of marbles

The boys aren’t fans of Barbra Streisand, but Stan is a fan of the Denver Broncos quarterback John Elway (he’s not a quarterback anymore, he’s an American football executive and the president of football operations for the Denver Broncos of the NFL according to wikipedia.)

Officer Barbrady is a fan of Fiona Apple (who was 20 at the time and had only one album released called Tidal)

Ned knows how to pilot a helicopter

Kyle’s mom is a fan of Streisand unlike literally everyone else, she even gets an autograph from Mecha Streisand

The boys are fans of Robert Smith, the lead singer of The Cure. Stan says “Robert Smith is the greatest person that ever lived!” and Kyle says “Disintegration is the best album ever!” and Cartman says “Robert Smith kicks ass!” and Kenny’s dead so he doesn’t get to have an opinion

Cartman has tea parties with his toys: Polly Prissypants, Clyde frog, Peter Panda, and a dragon called Rumpertumskin

Kyle wants to make fun of Cartman for the tea party but Stan stops him because he’s concerned that Cartman needs help

Craig is in front of the school counselor’s office in S01E13

A young miss Cartman drinks like a motherfucker at the 12th annual drunken barn dance where Cartman was supposedly conceived

Stan lets Cartman borrow his bike like a good friend

Garrison wanted to have a threesome with Chef and Cartman’s mom. I don’t know why I’m making a note of this but uh… yeah.

Cartman’s mom has had sex with everyone at this bar that Garrison’s drinking at, including principle Victoria, the mayor, Father Maxi, and Jesus (and maybe Kenny’s dad since he’s at the bar but the camera doesn’t pan to him when Garrison says they’ve all slept with Liane). Later Gerald Broflovski is a possible father to Eric, so he fucked her too. Also Mr. Mephesto and his friend Kevin, that little guy, are candidates along with a lot of other people, including the 1989 Denver Broncos (and Mr. Tenorman is included in that later)

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Kyle for being Jewish much at all in this season even though the Christmas episode is all about Kyle not celebrating

Clyde and Token appear very early on and Clyde has always been in the classroom (along with Bebe, Red, Kevin Stoley, Wendy, and Pip and uhh DogPoo too I think). Craig appears later in the season and Tweek’s not in season 1 at all, so Craig’s gang isn’t really a thing yet

And here’s a list of the ways Kenny died in this season. He dies in every episode except episode 9, and he dies twice in episodes 2 and 3. Altogether he dies 14 times

S01E01 Killed after alien shoots him, cows stampede over him, then cop runs him over which finally actually kills him

S01E02 Killed in a play by a falling teepee, then a second time shot by Garrison which sends him in the air and he gets impaled on a flagpole on the way down

S01E03 Killed by a volcano rock that burns him then rolls on him but he’s alive again in the end but gets shot by Ned’s gun that he drops and it accidentally goes off

S01E04 Gets his arms and head torn off in an American football game

S01E05 Stan’s clone punches Kenny into a microwave where he gets cooked alive

S01E06 Death touches Kenny

S01E07 Kenny gets crushed by a Russian space station and turns into a zombie because he gets Worcestershire sauce in his veins, then Kyle chainsaws zombie Kenny in half, then zombie Kenny rises from his grave and is crushed by a statue and a plane

S01E08 Kenny is killed by a bunch of turkeys. His eye gets plucked out. It’s dark blue

S01E10 After Kenny gets turned into a duck-billed platypus, Jimbo and Ned shoot him

S01E11 Ms. Ellen throws a sword through Kenny’s face

S01E12 While Mecha Streisand and a giant robot Leonard Maltin fight, Kenny plays with a tetherball and gets the rope wrapped around his neck and it strangles him

S01E13 Kenny gets stuck on a go kart and it drags him around but stops and he’s still alive! Too bad the go kart stops on train tracks and a train runs him over. Stan’s grandpa sends a video of the event to America’s Stupidest Home Videos and wins $10,000

If you read all that, first of all hello. I’m not new to the fandom even though this is the first thing I’ve posted on this tumblr blog. I’ve been writing a fanfic called Caffetamine though so I’m not a complete non-entity. Anyway, I’ll watch season 2 soon and post my notes on that too probably.

[shatterflowerdemon]

I found

Words: 1,517

Reader & UT Sans & UT Paps & Error & Ink & Gaster

Notes:

This came to me as I was cleaning. Please note that I am not very familiar with Error and Ink. I just see pretty designs and write. I haven't abandoned my other reader inserts, but the big wheel in my brain has been landing on 'oneshot' for days. I also post on mobile so I can't chop this.

"Oh fuck. Am I dead? I knew I shouldn't have had that pasta!" Everything that surrounds you is white. "Holy shit? Did I make it to heaven? Unexpected."

"Ahem."

You scream and jerk, managing to scuttle back where you rest on the...floor? It's hard to tell in all this one shade of white. Then you look up. "Oh my fucking god, I am in heaven!" you yell before slapping yourself on the mouth. A skeleton that looks a lot like Ink- from that one AU on Tumblr- looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"Right, okay, back you go," he says, bringing his paintbrush down as if to strike you.

"What the fuck?" you roll out of the way. "Uh, watch where you point that thing!" He sighs and twirls it in this direction.

"Don't make this difficult."

You decide that you would prefer to, not liking the idea of the easy route. Hitting your elbow on the floor hurt. Isn't heaven supposed to be fun and painless? You can feel your heart thumping from adrenaline, too. Regardless of whether or not you're having a fever dream, you are very alive.

Ink attempts to slather or catch you in what looks like his namesake. You scramble and dodge, but the routine is tiring you out quickly. Then, right as you're cornered (in an invisible corner, of fucking course,) a hole opens.

"Dude, you left your- Uh." Error looks between you and Ink, clearly not understanding. "Scarf..."

Ink swings his paintbrush (Broom? Roomie? You forgot) down to rest at his side. "Oh, thanks! I didn't even notice. Just lay it somewhere. Gotta fix this first." You avoid another splatter, feeling like you're on the other end of mickey in that one Wii game with the paintbrush.

"Why's it so empty?" Error asks, glancing around.

"Just did a mass wipe. Decided a fresh canvas was in order."

"Oh. Okay."

You groan, dodging another splatter. "Why the fuck am I even in the doodle sphere?!"

Ink frowns. Error whistles, low and long. "Wow, you accidentally drug a creator here?"

"Shut up." Ink shoots again but misses widely.

Error snickers. "Let me handle this, squid." You watch his hands raise and remember what Error does for a living.

"Fuck no!" You scream, flailing and losing your balance. One minute, you're standing in a white room, and the next, you're nowhere.

It feels like you're falling for eternity. Darkness swims in your vision, making your brain try to fill in the gaps by tricking you with false images. If you scream, you sure can't hear it. Numbness creeps in.

A white oval emerges. Then it stays. Its not a false image? A form takes shape as if your eyes had to adjust. Half circle eyes, two cracks, and a thin smile. The body of spilled ink.

"Gaster." He makes a series of strange noises. Wingdings? "I'm sorry, I can't understand. I- I'm in the void, aren't I?" He nods, and two ghostly hands form before your very eyes. He holds them out to you. "Do you know the way out of here?" Another nod. You take his hands. His figure appears as if it's dissolving, then when you look down, you look the same, like a ghost. The hot iron of fear strikes you. "Wai-"

Your sound is cut out. Once again, for the umpteenth time today, your mind blanks out. An uncomfortable trend.

The first thing you register is cold. It's on your back, arms, head, everywhere. The next is something wet. You groan and shift. Why can't you be left to sleep in peace? WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. You sit up quickly, disturbing the snow that had been blanketing you before. Something white and fluffy yelps. Your vision clears. Oh! It's a dog.

"Hey there, little guy. Thanks for the wake-up call." The dog barks cutely. You pet it, encouraged by the furious wagging of its tail.

A figure emerges in the distance, but it's hard to see through the snowfall. Whoever they are, they must be tall. Maybe someone on a rescue team? That'd explain the dog. You must have been drugged or passed out somewhere. It couldn't have been a long time since you're still alive in this weather. All your limbs have circulation, and you can't smell rotting flesh.

"DOG! UGH, I KNEW THE RED LEASH WAS SUPERIOR!" An odd sentence for someone on a rescue team, but you let it slide. Any help is better than no help. "OH. A HUMAN." Well, what else would you be? A bear?

"Hello? Do you know where this is? I think I hit my head or something." That would explain the hallucination.

"OH NO! A HURT HUMAN!"

It's like your heart stops and speeds up all at once. Papyrus is tall and a little foreboding at this angle. His scarf flaps in the wind that is currently picking up. He makes quick work of helping you up. The dog stays close by, tail wagging furiously.

"THIS IS NO SORT OF WEATHER FOR A HURT HUMAN! I'LL TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU. MY SPAGHETTI IS WORLD-CLASS."

There's no other option than to agree. If this is a hallucination, you won't fight it. Maybe you're lucid dreaming? Intense focus does nothing to change your situation. Not a lucid dream, then. Papyrus carries you and the dog through the storm, who happily snuggles close to you. At least Papyrus blocks the wind blowing towards the two of you. He chatters the entire way to his house. Instead of the familiar house you were expecting, he brings you to a different one. It's a large log cabin with no porch. It looks like they bought more string lights.

"REST HERE, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SOME WARM FOOD." Papyrus sets you down on a kitchen chair, swiping a quilt and tossing it over you. The dog (presumably annoying dog) settles on your lap as if he owns it. You say nothing. Papyrus returns with a plate of steaming spaghetti and water. "I MUST APOLOGIZE. THE FOOD IS REHEATED SINCE I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE IT A HABIT TO NAP IN SNOW POFFS." The spaghetti is great.

"Thank you, this is great. Uhm, weird question, but where are we?"

"MY HOUSE, OF COURSE!" he replies with a warm smile.

"I think they meant geographic location, paps."

And as if Tumblr hadn't already whooped your ass, here arrives Sans Undertale. Where's a dramatic cue of Megalovania à la trumpet when you need it? Honestly, the very last skeleton you wanted to see. It's like your Sans phase is coming to haunt you. Maybe today is just 'the attack of 2010's fandom.' The switch port could not have possibly done less to prepare you for this.

"Uhm, hi," you say. Sans plops himself down across from you at the kitchen table.

"hey. what's up?"

You make an awkward face. "I have no idea where I'm at or how I got here."

Sans takes it all in stride, pulling up your location on google maps and letting you take it all in. It's a country you've never heard of in your life. You rub your hands over your face and feel like crying. Papyrus, out of the goodness of his heart, offers you their couch for the night.

"hey, paps, why don't you get the human some bed stuff?"

"GASP. YOU'RE RIGHT, BROTHER." Aaaaand Papyrus is gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

"so, I couldn't help but notice you had a lot on your mind. penny for your thoughts?" He holds up said coinage, and it earns him a chuckle from you. Sans laughs himself and sets it on the coffee table.

"I promise I'm not insane, but I'm not from here, and I have no memory of this country. At all." Sans' expression betrays nothing. He closes an eye socket.

"eeh, figured that was the case." He sees your startled expression and shrugs. "I'm good at reading people. what do ya remember?" You close your eyes. The memories roll through, starting with a field of white.

"Black. A lot of it. Something...white?" You gasp, and the name flies between your lips before you can stop it. "Gaster."

Sans jerks, and your eyes fly open. He stares at you like he's seen a ghost. Sweat rolls down his skull. "how-" You can feel the frustration from your day boil over, forming tears that roll down your cheeks in thick globs. You sob into your hands, trying to hide it.

"there there," Sans says, patting you on the back. You finish crying quicker than you expected.

"Sorry. It's been a day." Sans nods and drops his hand. It lays limply at his side. "Guess I gotta fess up now. There's no easy way to say this, but I think you of anyone in this universe would understand." Sans watches with bated breath, apprehension bleeding through his sole eye light.

"I'm not from this universe."

"sheesh. and here I was thinking you were a mage or something. what a relief."