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servicpop · 5 months

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ITTO ⋆⋆⋆ x sub bottom m!reader

NSFW › itto is oblivious to reader's love for him, virgin itto, size difference, biting/marking, public / outside sex, breeding(?)

You and Itto were joint by the hip since little kids. You two did everything together. Exploring places you've never seen before, getting in trouble together, playing beetles together, bathing together. Your parents seemed hesitant at first when you brought little Itto over to your house, he was an oni, they weren't sure if Itto would be too rough when playing or would be a bad influence. But as time progressed, your parents eventually realised that Itto was nothing but a big softie who was a too dumb to actually hurt you.

As you grew older, Itto grew taller. Itto was always the taller one but now as you grew into an adult, he practically towered over you. Itto... didn't become any less of an airhead though, he still remained that same dumb softie from years ago.

When he offered you to join his gang, the Arataki Gang, you somewhat willingly decided to join. At first you thought by 'gang' he meant he'd do crimes and whatnot but then you thought about Itto as a person. There was no way he would be capable to make an elaborate enough plan to steal something or do any crime.

When you actually joined, you realised that it was basically just Itto and his friends hanging out but Kuki — the only one who had a semblance of braincells — that it was originally meant to be for people who were shunned out by society. However, in the process of trying to promote the Arataki Gang, due to the lack of intelligence, mischief and trouble seemed to follow the members like lost puppies. You can't count on your fingers how many times you had to bail them out.

Despite all the chaos in the Arataki Gang, you stuck closest to Itto, it was natural, you've been best friends since diapers. However, this evening when the sun of inazuma set, casting an orange and yellow hue on the land below, you and Kuki were strolling along the streets mindlessly. Itto had gone off somewhere with no contact — like he does sometimes — leaving you and Kuki to talk alone. You liked her, she was calmer than the rest and alot more intelligent.

"You like him don't you?"

Her words rang through your head like an achingly high pitched frequency as you stumbled in your step. Did you like Itto? Sure you sometimes fantasised about his big arms wrapping around you and sometimes your heart would race when he flashed you a toothy grin but—

"I notice the way you act around the boss,"

Kuki crosses her arms and leans her weight onto on leg as she looks at you. The cool evening breeze brushes past your face like a small caress and you find yourself speechless, not knowing how to respond. From your lack of words she continues,

"I was going to tell him but... I think its best if you do it yourself."

You force a small nod and she walks away, muttering something about needing to run an errand but her words fall short from your ears. You've never considered it until now how you always felt warm whenever with Itto and sometimes you even dreamt of Itto in ways that you'd never say outloud. Now looking back at how you felt around Itto... you were in love and Itto was completely oblivious to it.

You and Itto were laying down on a grassy hill, the tuffs of green tickling your back as Itto was settled next to you with his arms crossed behind his head. He was asleep. Itto had fallen asleep after causing whatever sort of mischief and called you over just to lie on a hill with him.

Silence filled the blue sky with the exception of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wind. It was a secluded spot no one really came to, that's why Itto liked it. Away from all the judge-y eyes and incriminating stares. You watch as his chest rises and falls at a steady pace and you roll over onto your stomach, eyes still glued on Itto.

"I love you, Itto."

The words spill out of your mouth like a running faucet that doesn't shut off. You shuffle almost uncomfortably on the grass and you keep letting your confession roll from your tongue.

"I can't deny that... sometimes I get these dreams where you love me too and—"

It's too embarassing to admit that you've dreamt of Itto holding you and fucking you like there's no end but the implication is there.

"But I'll never say it to your face that I love you... I don't want to ruin our friendship." Your words hang heavy and you stare at Itto as if waiting for him to wake up and catch you but he doesn't. Your gaze falls to the ground, watching the blades of grass move along your arm from the wind. It's a ticklish sensation.

"You love me?"

That familiar hearty chuckle meets your ears and you can feel your whole world pause. Slowly turning your head, you meet Itto's gaze. He's propped up on one arm and he's staring at you with sparkles in his eyes like an oaf. Embarassment colors your cheeks as you quickly turn away; you're not sure how to face him after basically confessing how you've had a crush on him and had lewd dreams about him.

A small yelp is practically forced out of you when Itto wraps his arms around your waist securely, and suddenly he's ontop of you, holding you down. "Dreams? About me? The one and only?" Usually by now you'd groan and roll your eyes but when Itto is pressed against your body, you lose all your will to fight. "Wait wait wait wait, you've got me curious now, is it really that good?" You've always knew that Itto was a virgin, never had romantic partner before, never had a hook-up, nothing. So it was natural for the oni to be curious.

Itto's abnormally large and calloused hands roam and prod at your clothing. He doesn't know what he's doing and its clear from how mindlessly he's tugging at your pants. With a small chuckle, Itto clicks off your belt and pulls down your pants alongside with your boxers. Was he really planning to fuck right in the middle of a grass hill? "Woah, you're really small," you took offense to that and was about to retaliate until you remembered Itto was an oni, he was most likely double your size.

At this point your face was buried in the comfort of your own forearms, protecting yourself from the harsh grass below you. You hear a clink followed by a thud, indicating that Itto took off his belt and was doing the same with his pants. "You're trembling man, are you cold?" It was nice of Itto to ask but, you were mostly trembling in a mix of fear and anticipation. How would his cock actually feel inside of you? Would it be bigger than you expected?

Itto leans in and you feel something big poke at your hole. There was no way that was his cock. You glance back at him and your jaw drops to the floor. He was bigger than you expected, and his red markings trailed all the way to his tip. His hand palms at your ass, spreading it apart as he clumsily lines himself up, sometimes missing. The usually talkative Itto is now relatively quiet, his breathing becoming more exasperated as he slowly pushes inside of you.

It burns. The way he stretches you out and forces you to accommodate for his size burns but also feels addictingly good. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your body as he groans quietly. "W–What the hell... you're so tight," His boisterous ego stammers as he becomes a breathy mess, trying to push deeper inside of you. Itto's nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent shapes indents on your hip as his head falls forward. You can feel his dick throbbing inside of you and your body is completely filled with just him.

Without another word, Itto pulls out before slamming back in. He hits right at your prostate, making stars appear in your vision. "Wait Itto slow down! You're too big—" Your whines fail to reach his numb brain; all he can focus on is the way you're sucking him back in every time he pulls out. "A–ah it feels so good," Itto's teeth graze against your shoulder but he tries to resist biting down. What a sweetheart.

You feel him tremble on top of you, like he's resisting the urges to be rough and unforgiving. It was in his nature to breed. His grip tightens on you, and he has his arms firmly wrapped around your body like you're a plushie. Itto's hips piston into you causing a loud slapping sound from your skin making contact with his. He can't help but hold you close, otherwise you'd try to leave him! He's practically drooling all over your shoulder but you're too fucked-dumb to really care.

Itto's teeth finally sink into your shoulder, sucking softly as he marks you as his, "Sorry, can't– help it." His apologies are quiet as he stammers like he's acting against his own will. "Gonna... gonna cum," He whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. That was sure to leave a mark the next day. You feel a pool of pleasure in your stomach; you're close too. The way he's hitting all the right spots with every thrust made your legs weak. Who would've thought the 'big bad oni' would be whimpering and groaning while fucking you senseless.

This was better than your dreams of him. Instead of having to groggily clean your pants every morning, you're shooting blanks out onto the grass as Itto slams his hips against your ass a few more times. He groans lowly into your ear before orgasming inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You feel his crushing weight suddenly crash down on you as he collapses from the bliss. "Itto! You're too heavy get off," you whine but your protests go unheard by the oni who's dazed out of his mind.

"What's going on with you two...?"

Kuki blinks blankly at you as she glances from your intertwined fingers with Itto and your blushing face. You weren't exactly the one for big public display of affection but Itto didn't seem to care at all. In fact, he's got you glued to his side with a big smile on his face.

"He's my boyfriend!"

a/n : big dumb itto ,, luv him

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #male reader #mlm #male x male #male x reader #sub male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin smut #itto x male reader #itto x reader #itto x you #top character

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obssessivethorn · 9 months

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Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets

Since I started playing Twst Wonderland, I can’t help but imagine Yuu starting out by constantly making references to pop culture and memes from their world only to realize midway through that no one else around them will understand it

[Masterlist]

Just imagine:

In the early stages of the game, Yuu starts to gradually feel more comfortable around their friends, mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim

At first, they slowly start to feel at home again

They’d begin loosening up and speaking more like how they would in their home world

In this case, that means more references and obscure humor

Especially if we’re basing Yuu’s home world on our current day world

There are so many intricate inside jokes on the internet that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone who has never been exposed to that kind of environment like we have

So, when Yuu first made an obscure reference in a conversation with the Single Braincell Gang™, they fall back into their closed off space

Because they’re not from here

They have a whole other world to get back to

If they can even get back to it

And while Ace and Deuce may not be the brightest, the two had gotten to know Yuu enough to know that something was off with them. They just couldn’t place what

After the first few slip ups, Yuu had started talking less and less

They started letting Grim speak for the both of them more often, only speaking when others addressed them or when it was about a topic concerning Twisted Wonderland

From an outside point of view, nothing seemed to have changed. They still hung out with the other first years, laughed and teased their friends, and regularly asked or answered questions in class

But those closer to the Ramshackle prefect could sense the hesitation whenever they were about to say something

“You should have seen Crewel’s face when Deucey asked that question!” Ace recounted the event between fits of laughter. Yuu sat with the other first years at their (unspokenly claimed) lunch table, happily chuckling at their boys’ antics. They held Grim in their lap, being used as his personal high-chair like usual, subconsciously running one of their hands through the monster’s soft fur and munching on their own sandwich with the other. “I wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question if I wasn’t so tired from you keeping me up all night with your complaining about that test we have today!” Deuce retorted, grumpily taking another bite of his egg noodles. Though he looked away from his friends, the flustered blush on his cheeks was still easily seen by the group. The prefect let out another giggle, “I swear, Crewel looked exactly like that one meme with the lady surrounded by all those different equations-!” “Huh? Is that a new one I haven’t seen?” Epel asked, his head cocked to the side in question. Had it been any other situation, Yuu might have found it cute. But their embarrassment was too strong for any thought like that to surface. “Ah-! Nevermind, sorry. It’s an old meme from my home world.” They let out an awkward laugh before looking down and stuffing another bite of their sandwich into their mouth. Their face felt hot and they wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow them, never to be seen in Twisted Wonderland again. “Y-yeah, and then Crewel assigned Juice like, a hundred more pages of homework to make sure he understood the topic!” Quickly, Ace diverted the others’ attention back to him, no doubt after sending a look of pity to the prefect. “Hundre-! It was only ten!” Deuce exclaimed, mouth full of pasta. Yuu could only mentally thank Ace for saving them from the piteous stares from the others. It was no secret that home was a sore subject for the prefect. Any time they spoke about it, their eyes would glaze over with nostalgic longing. Ace and Deuce would often ask them about traditions or cultures back in their world, both out of interest and because the two knew Yuu loved telling them about it.

Other times, however, aren’t grim reminders of how Crowley isn’t actually looking for a way home

Instead, they have these little moments with themself where they make references to things from their home world as an inside joke

Even if they don’t understand, Yuu’s friends still notice the tiny smirks or held laughs on occasion

But they’d never say anything about it, because it’s obvious how the small joke grounds Yuu and comforts them with the familiarity

“C’mon! We’re all in this together!” Yuu hastily spouted, trying to stop Ace from running away from his cleaning duties, again. Before Ace could even respond, the prefect immediately let out a bout of laughter and grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him down the hall while humming a song he’d never heard before between occasional giggles.

Yuu starts recording Grim who is knocked out on their bed. Light snores come from the fluffball. Yuu is heard sniffling behind the camera. “Oh meow meow get up,” they croak. Their hand comes up to lightly shake Grim, stirring him awake and now very confused. “Oh shit meow meow, I thought you was dead-,” Yuu giggles out, further confusing a very dazed Grim

“C’mon, Yuu, the question’s not that bad!” Epel said in between laughs. “Yeah, Yuu! It’s just three more of these!” Ace could barely get the words out as he slowly collapsed in silent laughter. He slid further down in the library chair he occupied, hand clasping his chest in an effort to breathe yet still remain quiet. “No, I’ve had it! I am disgusted!” Yuu continued to furiously pack their materials. “I am revolted!” They fumble in closing their notebook and quickly give up, letting the papers crumple up as they shove it into their bag. “I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?” The rest of the first years watch as Yuu slings their bag over their shoulder and promptly makes their way out of the library. Ace practically gasps for air. Epel finds himself in a giggle fit, unable to stop. Deuce is a mixture of confusion, amusement, and horror while he very obviously is still processing what just happened. Sebek can only look surprised, unsure of how to proceed. And finally, Jack is just as surprised but is holding back his own chuckles that threaten to spill.

“Ace, you idiot! There’s a ‘b’ in ‘subtle’.” Deuce scolded. “What?! Where’s the ‘b’?” “There’s a bee?” Yuu’s quivering voice quietly broke the tension. “Yuu!”

“Whoa, Yuu, I honestly didn’t know you could do that!” Yuu looked at him with a deadpan expression bordering on offended. ”Do you think I fuck around?” (definitely more obscure but if you understand this i love you) ((Hint: Brennen Lee Mulligan in a Game Changer episode))

Any g-note plays and Yuu’s eyes widen in recognition

“Floyd, Jamil, Ace. You guys gotta get your head in the game.”

Whether you wish to view it as romantic or platonic, the fact in undeniable that the cast is weak to hearing and seeing Yuu ramble on about things back from their world, specifically the first years or Heartslabyul boys

I personally really like the headcannon that only really the Heartslabyul boys, and maybe the rest of the first years, are in on Yuu being from a different world. It makes certain moments hurt just a bit more with the idea of little to no one knowing that Yuu is meant to inevitably leave. But i digress

Yuu could just be reminded of their favorite dish back home or a song they were obsessed with when they were younger, but the way they talk about it is mesmerizing to the boys. Their eyes light up with an aching mixture of nostalgia, longing, and joy. Recounting old stories or stupid trends they participated in never fails to crack just the slightest bit of a smile on their lips.

For some odd reason, the way they describe their home world feels like taking a sip of a warm drink on a cold winter day. Comforting in all the right ways. Warming you from the inside despite the harsh environment surrounding.

Not only does Yuu make it all sound like a fantasy at times, which is technically true given it’s a different world/dimension, but they somehow give the boy a strange glimmer of hope too. Like they too will have a chance to visit and experience the same joys. Only, there’s no chance of that happening. Right?

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teddybeartoji · 1 year

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18+ mdni; fem!reader

bf!gojo, who's knuckles deep in your wet warm cunt and who keeps mouthing at your neck. he's been at it for some time now and you feel hot all over. one of your hands is playing with your tits while the other rests in gojo's hair. your eyes are rolled so far back into your head, you barely register the sound of keys and the apartment door opening.

"wait.. s-satoru..." you mewl out.

"mmm what is it, kitty?"

the room is filled with your short pants, whimpers and the wet sounds of your pussy. your neck is covered with his spit and new deep purple marks keep showing up. his fingers keep moving in and out of you at a steady pace and you can't seem to think straight anymore.

"g-geto.. i-is home." you clasp onto his wrist and try to push it away from your center but fail miserably. his pace doesn't falter. next you try to close your thighs but that doesn't work either. his mouth on your neck is sending warm flashes over your body. thirdly you try to move your head away from his lips but you guessed it, it doesn't work. he pulls you back to him in an instant and keeps his arm around you.

"i locked the door, baby. and he's usually wearing his headphones anyway." he mumbles into your neck. his lips move to your jaw and to your sweet spot right under your ear. "he won't hear anything if you're quiet, pretty" even though you can't see his face, you just know he's sporting another one of his pretty boy smiles.

you can only nod at that. he, though, can clearly see the shadow under his doorframe, making it obvious that roommate can indeed hear you.

gojo has seen the way geto sometimes looks at you. when your skirt happens to hike up or when you're trying to reach something and your shirt rises up. he always tries to avert his gaze as quickly as possible but you're just so.. intoxicating and he can't help but wonder what you'd taste like. but gojo also knows that geto would never even try anything. he's a good friend.

gojo also knows that you think that geto's good-looking. before the two of you got together, you happened to mention it during a game of truth or dare. but again, gojo knows he's the one you love and he trusts you completely.

putting those two facts together, he gets a scenario he has thought about too many times. the only person in the world he would even consider to share you with is geto suguru. and he keeps thinking about how good it would feel for you, his pretty girl. two people giving you their undivided attention. you deserve it.

he moves to press a kiss to the side of your mouth as he watches your face twist in utter pleassure. your warm walls feel so good around his fingers and the cute sounds you keep letting out might make him cum in his pants.

you're trying your hardest to keep the noises down. but you feel the orgasm approaching and he's just so close and his smell is exhilarating and it's all so much and now you're thinking about the fact that your boyfriend's (hot) roommate might hear you. and no matter how much you'd like to tell yourself that you're not into that, you simply can't. and you can't deny that you haven't thought about it. maybe he'd like to watch you get fucked into the mattress by his best friend. maybe he'd even like to join but you're too shy to ask for it. scared to upset gojo, not knowing that he himself keeps thinking about the same thing.

you finally collect enough of your braincells to ask: "a-are you sure he w-won't hear?" you don't even think to look towards the door. hard to look at anything, when your eyes are in the back of your head.

gojo's eyes move from you to the door and the shadow is still there. he smiles to himself. he looks back down at you and once again places his mouth on your jaw. the pace of his fingers in your cunt never slowing.

"no, darling." he cheriches the way you're writhing in his arms. he lives to please you. he's getting off on your pleasure. "would that be so bad, though, hm?"

"w-what?" for the first time in minutes, you try to open your eyes and look at him. his lips are swollen and his eyes are low. you spot the purple marks under his crewneck and pride blooms in your chest.

he presses his mouth to yours and licks at your lips. "don't you want him to hear you?" he whispers into your mouth. and his question makes your head spin. when you try to pull back, he lowers himself more onto you and keeps your lips locked. he curles his fingers in you and you in turn whimper into his mouth.

"i think you do want him to hear you, sweets." he places another kiss on your lips. he presses a kiss right under your eye, then to your cheek. "you're wetter than usual." he smiles to himself when he feels you clench down on his fingers.

with the shake of your head you get out a meek: "n-no." but now you really can't stop thinking about geto. is he listening? you try to crane your neck to get a glimpse of the door but gojo's body is blocking the view. he's everywhere. his lips travel down to your chest, leaving a wet stain trail along the way. your eyes close once more and you succumb to the pleasure.

he nips at your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth. he glances up at you just in time to see your pretty lips form the perfect 'o' shape and you let out a loud moan, which at this point you don't even try to conceal. he then takes a brief look at the door and he's met with the sight of the shadow moving. he can make out the small repetitive movement from under the doorframe and he knows his best friend is standing behind his door and jerking off to the sounds of his girlfriend, to the sounds of you. and he's never felt prouder.

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amywritesthings · 2 months

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seven days. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: armin arlert x gn!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Armin gets bamboozled into joining the annual Yeager family beach vacation — and accidentally meets you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), beach house, summer vacation, eventual romance, alcohol, partying, Armin deserves a romcom, Eren & Zeke have zero braincells Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Zeke, you Point Break bitch, did you steal my boogie board?!”

Ah, yes.

If he was looking for a week of tranquility and peace, then Armin Arlert should have declined the invitation to join the Yeager family for their annual summer vacation.

Time and time again, Eren has begged his best friend to tag along.

As far as he's aware, this has been a family tradition ever since his best friend was a toddler.

One week, the same week, every single year.

Not to mention it's the same beach house merely two blocks away from the boardwalk and sandy shores.

Home away from home.

It’ll be amazing!

(Eren likes to claim.)

There is so much sick shit we can do!

(His words, not Armin’s.)

You’re gonna sit on your ass and read anyway, so why not do it by a beach?

(...okay, maybe that sold him.)

Then again, nothing is more humbling than standing with your duffle bag in one hand, filled to the brim with ‘maybe’ shirts and ‘just in case’ medicines, and your pillow in another while the Yeager family chaotically dissolves into a panicked army of four battling to even get to said beach in one piece.

Chaos.

It’s their collective middle name.

“Armin, sweetie, do you want any snacks for the road?”

Carla Yeager — doting mother figure and matriarch of the family.

She’s the reason they’re taking two cars this year, too afraid she may forget something important at home.

From fresh tangerines to a plethora of board games, she’s thought of it all.

Shuffling his bag to give his hands some equal soreness — ouch, that's freaking heavy — Armin offers an apologetic smile.

“No, Mrs. Yeager, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Carla?”

Every time, actually.

Although Zeke very easily calls his stepmother by her first name, Armin can't bring himself to do it.

Blah, blah, raised a certain way by his ever-traditional grandfather, blah.

The awkward blonde merely nods once and watches as Carla shuffles by to throw another box of napkins into the trunk.

“Here,” she gestures, waving her arms while she’s in front of the hatchback, “that looks bulky.”

It is, but he’s a kindred spirit in the name of overpacking.

“I can find a spot for it,” he promises, but relents when the woman gives him that mom look that straightens out her son and stepson. “I— Thank you, Mrs. — Carla.”

Close enough.

He hands her his duffle bag, careful to spot the bottom of it in a sneaky attempt to help her ease his luggage into the first car.

Boom.

The front door bursts open to reveal Zeke and Eren, shoulder to shoulder, frantically fighting to see who can walk out first.

Grunting, Zeke tries to push ahead with his neon-green boogie board against his torso, but Eren manages to dip at the hip and rush down the steps.

The momentum nearly knocks Zeke’s oval glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Could you be normal for two seconds?” the blonde groans.

Eren merely answers by sticking his tongue out and holds up a hand, wiggling his thumb and pinkie back and forth. “Fucking loser.”

Carla immediately glares. “Eren, language.”

“Forking, sorry, forking,” Eren corrects with little remorse.

“Seriously?” Zeke laments as he walks by, squinting at his brother. “What are you, ten?”

“Zeke,” a voice chastises softly from the garage. "Be nice to your brother."

Grisha Yeager, father of the year, rolls out a large cooler to bring it towards the second yet-to-be-filled car.

He’s wearing a Margaritavilla button-down, his long hair tied similar to Eren’s. On his forehead is a tie-dye headband.

“We'll be within close quarters of one another for seven whole days," Grisha reminds in that airy tone of his. "We should hold off on the in-fighting until day four at the very least.”

"I'll give it until day three," Zeke mumbles under his breath as he passes by, shoving his boogie board into the first car and smushing Armin's duffle bag down to half its size.

Yeah.

This is what it’s like to vacation with the Yeagers.

Except when your grandfather gets a new girlfriend, and they go to Key West for the summer, you’re stuck without being able to say no to your best friend’s family.

Seven days.

He can handle the Yeagers for seven days.

— —

It took less than three hours for Armin's pale skin to burn like an overcooked egg.

“It’s really not that bad,” chimes in Eren, mouth occupied by the hair tie between his teeth.

Invading his pessimistic mirror space, the taller brunette dips to look at himself while fixing his staple half-up bun hairdo.

The shorter blonde frowns even further as he checks out his tomato-red shoulders, standing shirtless and shoeless in front of him.

“It looks pretty bad, Eren.”

“Nah. Just slap some aloe on it, alright?”

Ruffling sounds behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, a bag of potato chips flies into view as Eren carelessly rips it from the cardboard variety pack — courtesy of the emergency snack stash in the corner of the room.

(The emergency snacks are, quote: So that bitch-ass Zeke doesn't steal the goods.)

The sun-kissed boy walks barefoot to the edge of the twin bed and flops down.

Right.

He forgot to mention he’s sharing a room with Eren, which only makes matters forty times worse.

Two twin beds with doily-esque blankets and flat pillows.

Thank god Armin had the sense to pack his own.

“Besides, the alcohol will make it feel better," Eren adds, chewing on a potato chip.

With a noise of defiance, Armin turns from the mirror to stare at his best friend.

“You do realize alcohol dehydrates a person, right?”

“So?”

“So—” Armin protests tightly, “—it’ll make it worse.”

Eren pops another chip in his mouth, shaking his head.

“Nah.”

Eloquent as always.

Groaning, he slowly — agonizingly — pulls his pastel blue polo over his aching shoulders and breathes out through his nose.

That SPF 50 was supposed to work, but he must have lost track of time binge-reading his first book of the trip.

A spy thriller, actually, that fell flat right around chapter three and nosedived bad just at the cusp of act three.

The wildly out-of-left-field twist made him so mad that he missed his alarm to reapply another coat of sunscreen, and—

Well.

As a result, human lobster is now on the menu tonight.

Regardless, he promised to go out.

It isn't ideal, but a promise is a promise.

About ten or so blocks away from the beach house is the coveted spot known as The Point.

From what he could gather from Google, The Point is a tiki bar boasting high-top bar tables nestled in sand, recreational volleyball courts, and live music all week long.

It’s about the only lively place in this rather family-friendly beach town.

While not technically a dry town, bars are few and far between and there are approximately a whopping zero nighttime entertainment venues, so The Point was about as wild as any college kid stuck on vacation was going to get.

Earlier, Eren spent most of the car ride to the house hyping it up.

Zeke, in surprising fashion, seemed to hold the same sentiment.

(It’s probably the only thing the brothers could agree upon.)

Plus, Zeke apparently had some surfer friends he’d met online that were going on the first night of vacation, so that solidified the night’s plans.

After showering, dressing, and having family dinner with the parents, it's go time.

A little past nine at night, the three boys walk on the sidewalk in a triangle unit, with Armin trailing behind.

Ever a wallflower he keeps quiet, observing carefully as the two brothers figure out their game plan.

Zeke is anti-shots.

Eren wants shots or nothing at all.

“We’re on vacation, why the fuck wouldn’t you do shots?”

“Because,” Zeke explains, “if you start with shots, then you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“Yeah, if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Eren, you just turned twenty-one.”

Eren’s nostrils flare. “So?! I had plenty of practice at university!”

“Is he a lightweight, Arlert?”

Wait.

What?

Oh, shit, they’re including him.

“Be honest,” Zeke adds over his shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights, Armin blinks between the brothers. “Uh… sometimes?”

“What?!”

The yell out of his best friend is piercing.

“You goddamn turncoat!”

“You’re not exactly somebody with an iron stomach, Eren,” the blonde reminds softly as if calming a petulant child, only to wince when he's met with a look of pure anger. “But that isn't to say you can't hold a shot down.”

“Or five,” Eren challenges.

“Three at best,” Armin relents.

“Three and a half.”

Armin squints as they turn the corner leading towards the entrance of the bar.

“In what world does half a shot cou—”

“Wait!”

Eren yelps, holding out an arm to stop Zeke in his tracks.

Armin subsequently also stops — as does his wearing patience.

“I have a solution.”

Zeke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And what’s that?”

“Look at me, dude.”

The boy with the man bun demands attention, using his pointer and middle finger to gesture between him and his half-brother.

“You know what I’m thinking. Give it nine seconds.”

Right.

Not ten, because Eren’s favorite number is arbitrarily nine.

Zeke squints with about as much confusion as Armin’s feeling, but Armin knows by now how this is going to go.

Although they’re born with two different mothers, they’re eerily in sync with one another when they want to be extra annoying.

Some kind of Yeager sixth sense tying them together; they fall silent, staring—

Then the thought strikes.

Like two brain cells clicking together, they simultaneously grin at one another.

“Jagerbombs.”

Great.

So even worse than a shot or a beer.

That’s all it takes for the two to become best buds as they stroll into the tiki bar like they own the place.

The blonde and brunette zero in on an open spot at one of the several pop-up bar locations at this venue—

—leaving Armin in the dust to fumble out his I.D. to the bouncer.

It's nothing new.

Cover charge? Paid.

Hand stamp? Accomplished.

Careful not to get any sand in his sneakers, Armin treads carefully across the uneven landscape towards the same lively bar as his best friend.

Music thumps right into his ribcage.

Flashing lights threaten to blind him if he so much as looks over his shoulder to the west.

It’s more than he’s used to.

More than he wants, really.

(What happened to the leisure part of vacation again?)

“We got you one!”

Eren.

Blinking back into his body, Armin glances at the shot glass filled to the brim of Jagermeister waggled in his face. Immediately responding with a grimace, he steps back.

“No, I’ll just grab myself a drink, alright? You two enjoy — that.”

“What?” Eren’s frown is immediate. “Seriously? How else are you gonna get wasted with us?”

I’m not, is what he’d like to argue, but he knows Eren by now.

“What do you mean us?” Arnin shouts over the music. “I don’t see Zeke!”

“He got a text from one of his dumbass surfer bros and ditched,” Eren answers, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m thinking of playing the field tonight.”

“The what?”

“The field!”

“Eren, it’s really hard to hear you when they won’t stop mixing Pitbull with ABBA!”

“What?!”

Oh, this is impossible.

He raises his hands to gently push the shot glass towards his best friend’s chest.

“You take it and show Zeke you can handle it!” Armin calls back at the top of his lungs, his shaggy blonde hair waving in the wind as he nods with encouragement.

That: giving Eren a challenge.

(Works like a charm.)

Determination spreads across his face. Eren nods, hyping himself up for a double-fisted success story.

Armin simply nods, too, using the chameleon effect to build up Eren’s trust.

(Maybe he shouldn’t be using his psychology notes against his best friend, but desperate times call for desperate measures.)

“Yeah!”

Eren shouts while dropping the shot into the energy drink left perspiring on the bar top.

“I’m gonna!”

“Okay!”

“And then I’m gonna talk to a girl! Or a guy! Or someone!”

Armin’s eyes shoot wide with surprise, but he chooses not to rain on his best friend’s parade because Eren is already chugging the drink, spilling a little of the Jagerbomb down his oversized black tee.

(Good call, wearing dark colors, unlike Armin’s poorly planned pastel.)

Slamming it down on the bar top with a howl of victory, he pats Armin on the arm and trudges forward to the dance floor to do…

Well, that’s between the power of Charli xcx and God.

“Oh, Eren,” Armin mumbles, watching the little man bun bounce in time with the beat of the music until it’s consumed by dancing bodies.

Turning back to the bartenders, the blonde debates.

Agonizes, really.

He doesn’t drink very often.

It’s not really his thing.

But… when on vacation, right?

(Alone, apparently, since Zeke isn’t coming back anytime soon and he’s going to need to deal with dragging Eren’s drunk ass home in the next two hours.)

“Vodka soda, please,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

The bartender behind the counter nods his way before pulling out a plastic cup.

Within a few seconds the simple alcoholic beverage is concocted, and he leaves a reluctant ten-dollar bill on the sliver of the bar that isn’t covered in condensation or sloshed liquor.

He reaches—

Oh.

That’s not a cup.

Freezing in his place, his blue eyes zero in on a pair of fingers entwined with his, nestled on the very same cup.

He can feel them tense under his own slender digits.

Dread. Pure, existential dread.

Apologize, apologize—

“Shit—”

“I’m so—”

“Sorry!”

A stranger’s voice yelps with his in unison.

Before he can move, their hand rips away from his, leaving his fingers to meet with the cold plastic.

His neck cranes to his left and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

You.

Blinking several times to get his wits about him, he can feel his mouth growing dry.

The way the blinking lights illuminate off of your face completely force his train of thought off the damn tracks.

Flickers of blues, greens, pinks — they compliment your face so nicely as each shade seems to highlight another feature that he hadn’t noticed a second before.

He shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help it: you’re drop dead gorgeous.

“It’s okay,” Armin breathes out after holding his breath for some time. “That was my bad. I didn’t see you.”

Your eyes are just as wide as his. “No! No, it was my fault. I thought that was my drink.”

“What did you order?”

“Uh, a hard seltzer? I think?” you answer, scrunching your nose as you respond.

Mayday.

That’s a type of adorable he is not equipped to handle in his sunburnt state.

“You think?” he repeats with a small chuckle.

You move your head side to side, tilting with an uncommitted air about it.

“It’s bubbling, right? Means I’m on the right carbonated track.”

“Yeah, but don’t hard seltzers usually come in cans?”

“Not always at this place,” you correct, before pushing the cup towards him. “I also kind of panicked when I ordered, so sorry for almost being a drink stealer.”

“Trust me, I know a thing or two about panic ordering,” Armin admits with a huff, taking the cup into his hands.

“Yeah?”

You give a carefree laugh that causes his stomach to give an Olympian-grade somersault.

“Is that why you got a vodka soda?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“We’ve all been there,” you empathize, briefly pouting your lower lip. “I won’t judge.”

He’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with this (see: at all) but that doesn’t mean Armin is going to waste his opportunity.

He may be a wallflower, but he’s equal parts an opportunist.

“So you’ve been here before?” he tries instead, hoping you don’t suddenly snatch your seltzer can and walk away.

You do get your seltzer from the same bartender — a slender aluminum can, nothing fancy — but you don’t walk away.

The opposite: you angle towards him.

Shit, okay.

He can do this.

“My friends love this place,” you tell him over the music. He finds himself leaning closer, angling his chin down, so he can hear you better. “So I just tagged along to make sure no one got black-out drunk or made out with anyone weird.”

“A noble effort,” Armin teases, and your eyes sparkle with amusement. “My friends dragged me here, too.”

“Dragged?” you catch with a growing smirk as you take a sip. “I said I tagged, not dragged.”

“Oh.”

Idiot.

Recover.

“I mean, it wasn't — yeah, no, I was definitely dragged here,” Armin confesses, sipping his vodka soda for some liquid courage.

No use in lying to seem cool.

That facade would crumble like a house of cards.

“Partying at The Point not your scene?” you ask without judgment laced in your tone.

Armin nods. “I could be sitting on the balcony reading right now.”

Your brows slide high with intrigue. "Reading?"

Yeah, he should have expected a reaction like that.

The blonde shuffles, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know, lame."

"I don't think it's lame at all," you answer instantly.

His eyes widen. "I— no?"

"Uh, no," you snort. "If I had a choice, I'd probably be doing the same thing."

Oh, shit.

Oh... shit.

So he's not lame, and he found a possible fellow bookworm.

Armin sips his drink so fast that a little dribbles out the corner of his mouth.

Liquid courage; he needs it, badly.

"If you could be home right now instead of here, what would you be reading?" he decides to ask, knowing it's the most unsexy question he could offer.

You scrunch your nose again, seriously contemplating the question while bobbing your head to the music.

"I brought maybe two books? I should have brought more."

He nods eagerly, his blue eyes round with interest.

"I have a romance that takes place in the summer — I know. Very on the nose," you relent with a small huff. "And, uh, this thriller? But I'm not crazy about it, so I'm mostly reading the romance book on the beach."

"I brought a thriller, too," he admits. "Bounty Run."

"Shut up, you too?"

"Huh?"

You laugh, and it's a melody that makes the music at this venue pale in comparison.

"I literally bought Bounty Run last month and never got around to it until now! It's so bad!"

To whatever deity is smiling upon him today, Armin has to thank them.

Not only has he met someone who likes reading, but they think Bounty Run sucks.

Maybe he's hallucinating from the burn screaming through his polo right now.

"It's really bad," he agrees breathlessly with a chuckle.

"Like dogshit terrible!"

"I know. What the hell was Tracy thinking in chapter six?"

"Oh my god, when she decided to call the hostage guy?"

"Yes!"

"Like, I'm pretty sure that's not how those situations work."

"Not even close."

You both laugh, and all Armin Arlert wants is to know every miniscule thought of yours.

What other books you may have read.

If you have any recommendations.

If you're single.

Nope.

No.

He's not Eren Yeager.

He is not his best friend—

"Are you from here?" you ask over the music, breaking his panicked train of thought.

Armin swallows more alcohol, shaking his head. "No, we're not locals. We're just vacationing."

"So are we!"

"With your friends?"

"My friend's family," you correct, leaning closer to stop shouting so loudly.

He can feel his blood pressure spike exponentially.

"I'm with my friend's family, too," Armin tells you. "Our shore house for the week is something like ten blocks from here."

“For the week? Which way’s your house?” you ask, before holding up your free hand. “Not in, like, a mega-stalker way.”

“Oh, I didn’t take it that way,” he promises, earnest intent pouring from his mouth. “It’s, uh… wait where are we — oh! That way.”

He swivels and points, like somehow that’ll triangulate where the beach starts.

Your chin turns, noting the direction. “So near the… beach? No fucking way, our house is that way, too, but more like a seven-block walk from here.”

Oh.

No fucking way, indeed.

"Seriously?" Armin asks, voice cracking just a tad.

"Yeah! Do you guys camp out on the beach by third street, too?"

He nods almost too eagerly. "We were just there this afternoon."

"So were we," you confess with a light laugh. "Small world! We were both being subjected to that god-awful book and could've warned each other to pick a less shitty book."

"Well, I brought about a dozen books if you want one to borrow."

Way to go, mouth.

Armin tenses instantly as the words pour from his mouth.

"I... you know, just in case the romance book doesn't work out! Or if you're a fast reader! Or if you—"

"Promise?"

Your question cuts through like a knife.

He is in awe.

Enamored.

He'll give you all of his goddamn books if it means you'll talk to him after tonight.

Suddenly your chin drops, and your free hand fishes for your phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, causing the blonde to simply wait.

Stare.

Don't go.

Don't go, don't go, don't—

"Shit, mayday with my friend."

You sigh as if you were expecting a disaster.

Hell, he's expecting one, too, but he's selfishly forgotten about saving Eren or finding Zeke.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, typing back a response. "They pre-gamed before we came here to save money. I told them not to, but... best laid plans, right?"

"I could give you my number?" he blurts, and your attention leaves your phone.

Your eyes round with surprise, and he feels immense shame in even offering.

Yet—

"For the books," he adds hastily. Shakily. "To borrow. O-Or if you ever want to just... talk about them."

"For the books," you agree, biting your lip between your teeth. "Yeah, sure, give me your phone."

His cup is empty, but he almost drops it trying to yank his phone out of his pocket.

Armin holds it out to you, unlocking the screen. He watches as you pocket your own phone and take his, typing your number into a new text chat window.

This is happening.

This is seriously, actually happening.

"Here," you offer, handing his phone back. "I put my name in."

He glances down, memorizing your name with newfound vigor.

"Okay, perfect. Oh — my name. My name is Armin."

"Armin?" You repeat. He nods. "I like that name."

Suddenly, he likes it, too.

"See you around?" he asks hopefully.

With a parting smile, you take a slow step backwards.

"...yeah, Armin. See you around."

You look just as sheepish as he feels when you turn on a heel, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment he stands there, dumbfounded — phone in hand, slack jawed —

Hopeful.

Maybe...

Maybe Armin Arlert won't hate spending seven days at the Yeager shore house after all.

author's note:

Thank you SO much for reading part one of my little summer story! I've been dying to write a proper Armin fic for a while now, and a casual, warm vacation setting felt perfect for him. This is meant to be a cozy read, so I hope you enjoy my love letter to my favorite boy. xo

How are we feeling after part one? Let me know in the replies! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, engagement, etc. Every comment gives this writer wings.)

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #armin arlert fanfiction #armin arlert fanfic #armin arlert fic #aot x reader #aot x you #gender neutral reader

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edgeray · 4 months

Note

*presses my face against your tank* HELLO RAY !!! :D I AM FINALLY HERE !! MY BRAINCELLS HAVE COLLIDED AND PRODUCED A THOUGHT !!

or, er, sort of? more like a vague vibe, but i digress. basically, consider: pining arle. how does she realize her feelings for you? how does she cope? how does her behaviour around you change? does it? what is she thinking the whole time? when would she consider making a move? essentially i would like to see you psychologically pick apart this woman. go as in depth into her brain or inner monologue as you want !!! the set dressing can be canon or an au, i’ll eat it up regardless :)) and as a professional angst writer i know you can write some absolutely monstrous (/pos) yearning and i’m frothing at the mouth thinking about it 🤤🤤🤤 lookin forward to your thoughts but also take your time with it !!! godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

An Unfit Role

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Oh sev… you spoil me too much. You truly do. Somehow this turned into very ‘Arlecchino is a person'-esque and I don't know how but oh well. I don't know if this answered your questions very well, but hopefully this is what you mean by psychologically picking apart her! Was this enough pining? Content warnings / info - uhh none I think. just a lil bit of angst, 1.4k words

Arlecchino is many things. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger, a Snezynayan diplomat, the head of the House of the Hearth, and simply ‘'Father.’ She takes on many roles, and enforces them with an iron fist, every facade meticulously practiced and rationalized. Perfected as if she were an actor on a stage, every action and step is calculated beforehand. And if external factors or unpredictable variables crop up in the midst of her play? Well, a good actor knows how to improvise. Arlecchino is well aware of her roles, has memorized the lines and drilled through every movement. The Knave has many feats from each character she plays. A flawless performer, in those aspects.

A lover is not a character she can play. Someone who loves. It is a role that she cannot hope to touch, one she cannot imagine assigning herself too. She is far too inexperienced in what it pertains to. Her perception would grossly mischaracterize it, painting a rather crude display of what she knows of but doesn't know. After all, how could one act without an adequate example? No actor would want to showcase a poor impression of an original source material, an actor presents only their most remarkable qualities. A good actor knows what they cannot act, and it is this where her talents reach their limit. It is what her role as a ‘Father’ stems from; this inability to express something far too fragile and flimsy for her to hold.

Of the few showcases of others playing the role, Arlecchino is knowledgeable enough that they are simply inept showcases. The Tsaritsa, who has shown the capability to act, and yet chooses to conceal her abilities from her audience. Crucabena, an unqualified actor, whose words dripped with far too much venom for the soft-spoken voice that she used. Perhaps Clervie was the only accurate and genuine actor able to play the part, but one cannot appreciate the traits of an unfinished story. And the naive Peruere, who could hardly imitate her counterpart, was maimed by Arlecchino’s own hands. It is here that she learns that the role of a lover earns no applause, because it adds little to the plot, and so it lacks a function in her story.

Despite this, she finds herself in this scene, where she plays a character unlike her usual, an entirely new character involuntarily thrusted into her by the cruel machinations of her mind.

It is a subtle thing. First, she was just the Knave to you. But somehow, among your presence, her facade slips, and she dons another character.

She becomes a character who knows of nothing but the way her sight is captured by a singular person, a character whose dead heart begins to beat, daring to flutter back to life after it was painfully wrenched out of her chest by her favorite story's ending. She becomes acutely aware of this role when her eyes linger on you a moment longer than need be, when she indulges your empty but no less engaging conversations, when she familarizes herself with the particular fauna scent you carry. When she closes her eyes, your smile flashes through her mind, she knows she's fallen.

An actor knows when to quit, when they misfit the character they're performing. And yet her mind remains stubborn. Acting a role one does not fit will only damage the actor's reputation, and she intends on abandoning it. But it is difficult for her to dismiss how much she yearns for a warmth that the blood flames in her veins cannot bring. It is difficult to deny that she is not momentarily blinded and stunned by your beaming expression, even when you are not looking at her. It is increasingly more difficult to control the pulsing underneath her skin. This is a character she cannot control, instead, it often feels that the character controls her.

It is an unseemly, disgusting appearance for her. If it were physically possible, she would plunge her very own cursed, clawed hands into her chest, to grasp onto this fickle, volatile organ and crush it just to exhaust the remaining embers of a futile hope. If only it were as simple as that. Love is far too much of a complicated role for her, and yet it is somehow inescapable. Some sort of torment placed onto her by the archons.

She can long, she can reach, she can prance around you, but never can she touch. For love imprints its scorch marks deeper than any weapon or assault. One of the lessons her story has concluded to.

So, instead, she reduces its role to a minor character. She lets her stares remain, but she observes you from a distance. She does not dawdle a second longer besides you if she needn't be. She dresses the role of a lover as an observer. Everything she touches with these wretched, blackened hands soon turns into nothing but embers and ashes, and so the only way that you will remain is away from her.

On her desk, sits a vase with a single flower. It is your favorite flower, the flower that you smell of. It does not move from its place, nothing is done to it besides being watered. Its stem is so brittle, and the petals are far too easy to wither away.

(It is a reminder, every time she sits at her desk. Oh, how'd she like to stroke the patels with as much tenderness as she could muster. How'd she like to cradle it in her hands, this source of life, despite being so delicate, is so beautiful. How'd she like to be able to wake up everyday, and view upon this blossoming flower. But she is not a gardener. She knows nothing of how to make a flower bloom.)

Humans are the only viable actors for the role of a lover. A curse is not.

(In her dreams, sometimes you are in place of Clervie. Yet, like Clervie, the only moment she is able to cradle you is when her sword impales you. She will not let another flower wilt, she will not burn another flower.)

It is why you baffle her. Why do you gaze upon her with that expression, as if her claws are not one one more inch from piercing your skin and ripping into your flesh? How do you take her hands in yours, somehow slotting them as if they were always meant to, when they’re soiled with vulgar blood? Her cutting words and sharp tongue, how do they not dissuade you? How do you see her blackened skin, and not be driven away by such a mark of impurity and depravity?

How could you not tell that she is improper for the role that you seek?

She wonders if a flower is a poor description of you. She wonders if you are instead a Sundew ensnaring a spider, unwilling to let it escape. No, perhaps that is not fitting for you, because you are unaware how effortlessly she can char you–unaware of the imminent danger that comes with keeping such a venomous creature.

Arlecchino is many things. She is a coward, if only for you. She cannot abandon her role, but she cannot perform better, floating in the state of inadequacy that she so despises. Playing a lover makes her foolish, and it is a compromising role.

She is foolish, but she is despicable. She is selfish. And though she is perfect actor, even performers must fail to succeed. One day, her mental will and patience crumbles. She requests you into her office, your doe-eyed expression widens when she gives you the flower that sits lone in a glass vase on her desk. She tells you that you plague her thoughts, every feeling and emotion is muddied when they concern you, a culmination of things not within her grasp, not within her control.

It is your performance that finally teaches her what she lacked before: playing the role of a lover requires another. It is a role dependent on another character, otherwise it cannot succeed. It matters not how experienced one is with the other, as long as the characters are committed to it.

There is another lesson that she learned from you.

“I cannot act as a lover.”

“Why must you act to love me?”

Love is a fickle, unpredictable thing. There is no words to be practiced, no actions to be scripted.

Arlecchino is many things. A lover may be one of them.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fics #arlecchino #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests

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tragedytells-tales · 6 months

Note

Brooo I love your writing so much!! It’s literally so great😭 can you write the brothers (or just Lucifer and Satan if that’s too much) with a teen!mc (platonic obv) that is VERY gen z. Like if they’re able to have their phone while in Devildom then they would constantly be talking about stupid internet drama while using strange terms. They know the stuff they say is weird but that just encourages them to be even more unhinged and chaotic. I just thought it’d be funny :) thanks if you decide to do this!!

"I hear you loud and clear! My apologies for this taking so long, I was only able to come up with something for Lucifer and Satan."

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

Lessons in cringe culture

Notes - Teen!MC, Headcanons, Shitpost, comedy just pure comedy

Characters - Feat. Lucifer and Satan

Summary - MC has a few ideas on how to make these ten million years old demons more modern. Are they good ideas? Who knows and who cares

Warnings - Not proof read

TW - None

Lucifer:

[ New word to vocabulary - Gyatt ]

- So MC teaches him gyatt. And not actually on purpose, but not on accident either. They had the thought of saying it out loud around him just to see if it would be a good enough substitute for "god" that they could say it without almost smiting the Avatar.

- They had the thought about a week ago and completely forgot about, but they couldn't just sit there silently when they got jumpscared by the newest update to celestialdrop Valley

"You can now drink mayonnaise."

- Either way he is scared of teenagers of MCs variety because he was sitting in pure silence, minding his whole business while MC did something on their phone, until suddenly they screamed from the top of their lungs

"GYATT DAMN?! LEVI YOU WON'T BEEEEELIVE THIS!"

- Not only did they startle him out of his old ten million years aged bones, and dared to swear in his presence, but then before running to show Levi whatever it was that sparked this outburst MC turned to him and asked

"Are you all good?"

"...Yes? Why would I not be?"

- They give him the most evil of smiles before leaving. The smile was so evil that it sent shivers down his spine, for a human it was a devilish little smile that he knew meant nothing but trouble.

- The things he'd give for a single one of his technically adopted family to be normal ( <-- He literally handpicked everyone in the house, and he's no better but he's also the oldest so )

- He asks MC about it later and gets a proper explanation, only thing is that now he can't ground them for the improper use of language because the use of "gyatt" was surprisingly clever and smart

- Damnit MC, stop getting the braincell!

- He genuinely starts using it in secret whenever he wants to say "goddamn", he dare not utter it around his brothers lest they start bullying him

- Jokes on him, he gets drunk and slips up in the group chat!

Satan:

[ New phrase to vocabulary - It's my turn with the braincell! ]

- Speaking of. One would think that because he reads so many things and has so much knowledge and is technically the youngest of his brothers that he would know at least a bit of funky phrases

- He does. He knows Devildom phrases specifically. But he's also stupidly smart, smart stupid if you will, so he takes things MC sometimes says a tad to literal

- So imagine his surprise when they say "Hey, it's my turn with the braincell. I need it for algebra, hand it over!!!" While studying with their friends

- If you imagined very, very surprised then you are correct

- Aka: he's worried about the amount of concussions MC must've had for them to lost so many brain cells that they need to borrow and take turns with them from others

- He would've also questioned where and how they’re getting the brain cells they’re borrowing if he weren't so concerned in the first place

- He genuinely asks them what kind of brain cells are they missing to see how he can help

- They tell him "My brother in christ, I'm simply jesting about" and now he thinks MC is a sickly Victorian child with a lack of brain cells who got cursed

- Congratulations MC, you've tricked the smartest person in the house, but at what cost?

- The cost of him texting the group chat that MC has lost brain cells and needs to borrow some, that's what. All because they're too busy laughing to properly explain, and now Levi and Belphi are clowning on everyone else because they ALL fell for it too

- The price of living with beings who are over ten million years old is a steep one

- He steals the phrase and instantly starts telling his brothers to borrow brain cells btw, he's adapting

- He's been stealing phrases from MC for a while now, but this one is his favorite

- ( They taught him "fuck this thing, fuck that thing, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool-" last week, they’re not allowed to be friends anymore )

AN - The idea of teaching Lucifer "gyatt" made my lungs hurt, but then the thought of Asmo learning "down bad", Beel learning "bussin", and Mammon learning "L + Ratio + you fell off + fatherless" also made me lose it. I just wasn't sure how to go about that. ( Also thanks for the compliment!!! I hold it ever so gently,,, )

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #om lucifer #om satan #obey me shitpost #obey me teen mc #[ 📜 ] requests

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gaycrimesagainstmutants · 2 years

Text

First Kisses ft The Hamatos

Genre: Fluff

Sub-Genre: Hurt/Comfort (Casey's section)

Warnings: Light Movie Spoilers

A/N: Three fics in one day?...Why not four?

Raphael

Raph gave out affection almost as easily as he breathed. He heart was so full of love and adoration for every living thing around him. So, when he told you he liked you, you thought it was just him being Raph.

"No, I like like you," Raph said, after a few moments hesitation.

"Oh...Oooh!" You exclaimed, the few braincells bouncing around your skull finally meeting up to give you an actually clear thought for once.

"You don't, uh, have to get back to me right now. I can wait for you to figure out your emotions if you need to. I know this was really sudden," Raph said, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, nervous smile. Oh, this man was going to be the death of you if he didn't stop looking so adorable.

"Raph, I don't need to think on it," you said, placing a hand on his arm, "I like like you too." The phrase felt silly, you hadn't said it since you were in elementary school, but the grin that spread on Raph's face was worth it

Raph gave out affection as easily as he breathed, so was it really that surprising that he pulled you into a kiss no sooner after you told him the words he'd been hoping to hear for months?

Michelangelo

It's family game night, and you being Mikey's special someone (Leo's words, not yours) made you apart of the family. So, you were invited and somehow found yourself in a heated Just Dance battle with Donnie.

"Just give up, my overconfident fellow. You're no match for THE Bootyyyshaker9000!" Donnie exclaimed.

"Oh please. I can take you anyday, Donnie!" You snapped back, hitting all the moves with just as many Perfects and Radicals as he was. It was honestly surprising how good you were at this, or maybe it was just the adrenaline of being able to go against Donnie.

Somehow, by some miracle, you had won. By a singular point, like Sans had beaten Reigen, you had won. And while Donnie was processing the fact that he lost, Mikey was already up and cheering for you.

"You did it! You did it!" Mikey yelled, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around. "That's my awesome boyfriend!" You giggled as Mikey put you back on the ground, but didn't give you a chance to breathe as you pulled into a hug tight enough to reshape your spinal cord.

"Mikey," you groaned, slapping him arm slightly to get him to let go. Which he did, if only enough to let you breathe.

"Oh, right! Almost forgot! Can't have a victor without a prize!" Mikey exclaimed. You had raised an eyebrow, about to ask what in the world he meant, before his lips came in contact with yours.

Yeah...yeah. You liked this prize.

Casey Jones Jr

Casey hasn't left the spare room since they got back to the Lair. He only left to get some food or use the bathroom, but he didn't stick around to talk. It's been weeks.

The brothers sent you. You were the only one who could get him to talk. So, you slowly openned the curtain to the spare room as to not spook him. Casey had his back turned to you, but he turned around the moment you set foot in the door. It was kinda creepy.

"Hey," you whispered, sitting down next to him.

"Hey," he whispered back.

"Wanna talk about it?" You asked.

"I'm just processing. It's finnaly hit me that...I'm not gonna see them anymore. Master Leonardo, Mystic Michelangelo, Commander O'Neil, any of them. I have them, they're waiting outside, but it's not them. The people who raised me, grew up with me, they're gone. Now, I'm just about if not the same age as the man who raised me. I'm actually meeting Raphael for the first time, instead of just fuzzy memories from when I was a little kid. I'm sitting next to someone who I had heard stories about and admired for years. It's just...so surreal," Casey rambled, holding his head in his hands.

"Well...I guess you'll just have the chance to make some new memories," You said. Casey lifted his head to look at you, skeptical. "It's an awful situation, I get it. But it's up to you to make it a good one."

Casey let out a weak chuckle, wiping the forming tears from his eyes. "Spoken like a true Corporal," he said. You raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Corporal?" You asked, laughing under your breath as you leaned in a little closer to him. "I like the sound of that."

When your lips met his, it felt cosmically right.

Leonardo

Leo and you panted as Leo slammed the manhole cover shut.

"What was that?!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. Leo had taken you on a date to this 'cool city under New York,' but you guys got run out two hours in from this gaint crazy spider lady!

"Uh, Big Mama," Leo mumbled, sliding down the ladder to meet you on the sewer floor, "She sorta has the entire place under her boot."

"Seriously?! You thought bringing me there was a good idea?" You exclaimed. Leo sunk back, hugging himself.

"I just thought-" he startes, before you cut him off.

"Cause it absolutely WAS!" You exclaimed, throwing an arm around his shoulder, "Oh my god, that was so cool! Like, yeah, we almost died, but that was the most INSANE first date I've ever been on!"

Leo's previous frown turned into a tentative grin. "Really?" You nodded, kissing his cheek.

"Really," you replied.

Leo's grin widened. "That's great! Wow, was I scared. I thought you'd hate me or something," he said with a relived sigh. A moment passed, before a smirk grew on hif face. "Also, I think you missed earlier."

With a roll of your eyes, you pressed your lips to his for a split second. "Happy?"

Leo shrugged, "It'll do, babe."

Donatello

Today was a slow day. Donnie was working on something, and you were sat in a chair out of his way in his lap, spinning it around as you scrolled mindlessly through YouTube Shorts.

"Dad 2," SHELLDON said, flying over to you and pushing his metal face against your cheek, "Father 2. Papa-"

"What is it?" You asked calmly, putting your phone down.

"I want affection. Father 1 is busy," SHELLDON said. With a fond sigh and a smile, you held the robot helper by the sides of his face, peppering kisses along the top of his head. He let out a happy laugh. "Thank you," he said.

"No problem, son," you said, gently motioning for him to move along, which he did happily. You didn't mind the father-son dynamic you had, but as you glanced at Donnie's hunched over figure, you could tell he had a problem with it.

"What's up, Don?" You asked.

Donnie paused his work, like he had just been caught with his hand in the jar, before going back to his work. "Perhaps Father 1 wishes for some affection as well," he mumbled. You laughed under your breath, standing up and walking over to your boyfriend.

He left out a small, confused noise, sitting up as you put a hand on the back of his spinny chair and spun him around to face you. "Are you actually-" he was cut of by your lips falling in line with his. It was only for a few seconds, but when you pulled back, you were fairly sure you broke him.

Until he suddenly happy wiggled in his chair, hands flapping excitedly. You chuckled, nowing you made the right move that day.

#rottmnt x male reader #rottmnt x reader #donatello x male reader #donatello x reader #leonardo x male reader #leonardo x reader #raphael x male reader #raphael x reader #casey jones jr x male reader #casey jones jr x reader #michelangelo x male reader #michelangelo x reader

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watchingblsnowandforever · 3 months

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Hello!!!! =D

So. We Are ep 13. I don't how they do this, but they keep making every episode better than the last. At this rate, I'll not be able to survive episode 16.

Warning: long post 😊😅 (there will be a smol part 2 because 30 screenshots are definitely not enough.)

We have the Best Parents in BL, but now I present to you: The Best Aunt in BL.

Subtle, Aunt Pui, real subtle. 😭

I get her. She just wants a nice, handsome boyfriend for her nephew. 😌

First of all, the symbolism is hitting me right in the face, but it's also so subtle because no one else knows the whole story, so they wouldn't be able to figure it out.

Secondly. Yes, the red and blue do clash a bit, and it's not the prettiest little painting. But. Not every painting has to be "pretty" or perfect. Just like feelings or emotions in real life. Peem didn't willingly draw over his precious painting because he thought it'd look better; he did it because he wanted it to express his feelings. This also ties into Peem's insecurity at having (apparently) failed at being Phum's comfort zone because see, in the painting it looks like the sea is embracing the roses, or protecting them.

What I'm trying to say, is that what makes art beautiful is not just what you directly see on the canvas/right in front of you. And this applies even to the "pretty" ones. The David is not just famous because it looks very good, but also because of the amount of skill and talent Michelangelo had to be able to create such a thing from a block of marble. (I'm sorry I'm not good at examples or analogies 😭)

Sir. What business do you have, making an expression like that and giving me a heart attack.

If I haven't said this before: find a man who looks at you like Phum (Pond) looks at Peem (Phuwin).

Two sides of the same coin.

Phum still feels guilty (which is very clear from his reaction to what Peem says) about ruining Peem's painting, so he wants to do something to make sure nothing like that ever happens to Peem again.

Peem is long over it (you don't ever forget shit like that, but he has definitely forgiven Phum). He met Phum because of that Incident™, and he has a new, upgraded painting, so this is just a light joke for him. But the moment he sees it's too soon for Phum, he immediately goes to reassure him he's just kidding, and he absolutely does not hold it over Phum.

A simple pinky promise, but how much does it mean to Phum?

He's never had someone to make a pinky promise with; Fang was in a similar situation as him, and Beer knew better to make a promise and have it broken by forces outside his control.

So this, this small, childish gesture means quite a bit to him. (Which is also probably why having broken it hurt him so much.)

And yet Peem, you're smiling so wide while saying that. Almost like *le gasp* you actually like it!

Let's be real here, Peem. You don't mind at all. In fact, you sounded unbearably fond saying this. You were quite literally giggling and kicking your feet. (Which fits my headcanon of him pretty well actually.)

This shot. Just >>>> (actually thinking of making it my header-)

Ma boy never misses a chance 😭👍🏼

And if he doen't get a chance, he makes one and nails that too. <3

SO CUTEE 🥺🫶🏼

Oh the teasing is on.

Pun: I did that 😌

Beer: Idiots in love. Again. *exasperated sigh*

[From this point on, I am extremely sleep deprived, so most comments made will probably (definitely) be forgotten by the time I wake up (I'm going right to sleep after posting this.]

Well, Chain, I'm sorry to be the one telling you this, but Phum moved into Peem's heart like 6 episodes ago.

Well, yeah, but Peem has to act at least a little bit like the tsundere he is, right?

Chain: "Well, can a cupid shoot an arrow at himself?"

Toey: *very telling side-eye*

Q: You really think one flirty line will trigger his half braincell to understand what he didn't in the past however many years? ...go on, I wanna see how this turns out

Pun: *pikachu meme face*

Beer: Oh damn here goes another one, we must be nearing the last episode

Phum: ????

Peem: Don't say anything don't say anything DON'T SAY ANYTHING DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING SAY A SINGLE WORD- (internally: Idiots. They're idiots.)

Ah, I love the sibling energy here. Also, initially I was like nah you're more like Tan. But then I gave it some thought. And had a Realization: he really is the Fang in their relationship, and Q really is the Tan. (I do not have the brainpower to explain rn, but tell me if you want me too, I'll include it in Part 2.)

Phum can't wait. (And neither can Peem, because I didn't see ya denying anything, babe. Instead, you gave him the softest shoulder bump in the history of soft shoulder bumps and that bigass (smitten) smile.

Oh boy this scene.

Right before this, when Peem called Phum immediately after the last brushstroke, I was smiling so hard and giggling like yesss do boyfriend-y things with each other!

Him waiting on the porch: still big smile. Here comes Phum! Ooh are they gonna flirt in the car??

My smile started dimming as the seconds ticked by and no Phum appeared on screen.

Until I finally realized what was happening.

I almost stopped breathing.

And as the scene went on my heart broke a little more with every text and every call, and I was watching that mall scene again. Except it was much much worse this time.

So long story short, I was heartbroken for both of them. Especially when Peem showed up alone with the saddest lost-kitten face ever.

But, at this point I knew Phum must have had something really urgent/unaviodable to miss his meeting with Peem because 1. He really really loves that boy and 2. He was very much looking forward to doing this with Peem.

Unfortunately, I will have to end Part 1 here (please don't kill me), and I'm loathe to end on a sad note, but I promise the next part will be much happier. It will hopefully be posted a little later today.

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a pudding 🍮

My previous We Are posts.

#we are #we are series #we are the series #phumpeem #qtoey #tanfang #chainpun #watching bls: we are #let's talk bl #thai bl

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moralesmilesanhour · 11 months

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okay okay, i have had this one thought in my head about a platonic gender-neutral (or male/masc-leaning) reader fic. this is for either miles (more so 42 than 1610 bc i can imagine his face of exasperation). imagine just being his dumbass friend, like yeah your smart enough to be in visions, but goddamn!! you leave your braincells in your school locker once the final bell rings. your self preservation instincts are questionable at best and the only reason you're not dead yet bc you're proving that quote "you can't kill stupid" as a true fact. at least you bring homemade food over everytime you visit his home and his mom likes you, so you're not completely hopeless in life. (i've had this rotating in my brain for days and still haven't written it myself) -☁

a/n: I went the masc route with this one with a sprinkle of gender envy if u squint

You thought doing homework on a rooftop would be a nice change of scenery.

Dangling off of the rooftop? Not so much.

A tiny group of pigeons had been hanging out near the edge, and you had the idea to try and feed them with the bag of sunflower seeds you'd brought with you. Carefully, you step forward toward the flock, until some unknown force of nature causes you to trip over your own feet and sends you careening over the edge.

Somehow, you manage to grab hold of the railing of the fire escape just below, but your palms are sweaty. You heave as you use all of your upper body strength to hold yourself up while desperately trying not to look down.

It's not enough.

Just as you lose your grip, a strong arm catches you. It's covered in purple leather, ending in a familiar clawed hand.

"Again?" Asks an amused modulated voice as wind rushes past your ears.

"You make it sound like a daily occurrence."

You feel a jolt as the masked figure swings and lands in front of an alleyway before putting you down. As you adjust your crooked glasses, the mask whirs and splits in two before receding, revealing the smirking, deep brown face of your friend, Miles.

"What happened this time?"

His voice is low and nearly too soft to hear, a stark contrast to the tinny high pitch of your own. No amount of lowering your larynx or whispering could ever get it like that. Part of you wishes you could steal it sometimes, or borrow his voice modulator, at least.

If only.

"Tripped," you answer, rubbing your upper arm as a side effect of the claws' tight grip. "Dunno how you always manage to catch me."

"Easy," Miles explains as he unzips his black duffel bag. "I see that ratty ass gray hoodie you always got on and swing right over."

With a whir and a clank, he removes the claw on his right hand, then his left, tossing them into the bag.

"How does carryin' those around like that not damage them?" you blurt out suddenly. Miles snorts.

"You gonna fix 'em for me, genius?"

"No."

"Thought so."

Finally, he removed the grappling hook strapped to his back and tied his jacket around his waist.

You say his catchphrase before he does: "Let's bounce!"

This earns you a burst of laughter from Miles as you make your way out of the alley.

"What, I say it wrong?"

"No, it's just..." he catches his breath and claps you on the shoulder as he passes by. "You make it sound so friendly."

"Whatever, man."

"Yo, pay attention, dude!"

You feel Miles' hand yank you backwards by your hoodie as a car horn blares past you. Once you look up from your phone, your eyes widen.

"Oh, shit."

The car had barely missed you.

The streetlight across from you finally turned white, and the two of you crossed. Miles keeps glancing back at you until the short journey to the opposite sidewalk is completed.

He stops, crossing his arms. "How many times are you gonna almost-die today? Lemme know so I can adjust my schedule."

"Until someone finally finishes the job," you joke before remembering something. "Ah fuck, I hope the brownies survived."

You swing your book bag off of your shoulder and kneel to open it, revealing a small Tupperware container filled with home-made brownies stacked on top of your textbooks. Thankfully, there is only a bit of chocolate smudged on the sides; the pastries themselves remain (mostly) intact.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "You know taking the textbooks home is optional, right?"

Zipping your bag closed, you reply with a shrug,"I like re-writing my notes. I need to access the source material."

"I need to access the source material," Miles mimics you in a nasally voice before strolling past you. "If I were a worse person, I'd shove yo' ass in a locker."

You laugh, breaking into a jog to catch up to him with your 'source material' weighing you down.

"Just for that, I'm telling your mom the brownies are just for her-shit!"

A piece of cracked and lifted cement trips you up and scuffs your sneakers. Your hands shoot out to break your fall, planting themselves onto the ground. Your glasses aren't so lucky.

"Aw, man, I just got these!" You frowned as you dusted off your khaki shorts with one hand, holding your glasses in the other.

One of the frames now has a crack right down the middle.

"That's tough, buddy," Miles remarks.

He had spun around as soon as he heard you yell in case of another near-death experience, but was now trying desperately to hold back laughter that escaped through his nose as he walked backwards towards his destination.

"It's not funny!"

"It's a little funny. You're like a Looney Tunes character."

You laugh, "If an anvil falls on my head, it's your fault."

#i hope this was in the general ballpark of what u asked for lmao #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x male reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #moralesanhour #requests

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icycoldninja · 4 months

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Hi, can i request Vergil x jealous fem!reader.

I’ve seen people do the other way around but Vergil is too damn fine for girls to ignore. Reader is normally shy but when the other women dose not get the hint that Vergil is taken while also mistreating the reader, she lashes out to the point Vergil has to get her out of there since they were causing a scene in the restaurant. Reader gets embarrassed and ashamed but Vergil ends up comforting her <3

Yes, he is fine as hell, lol. Here ya go, enjoy!

Too good for you (Vergil x jealous!fem!Reader angst/fluff)

Folding your arms in your seat at the quaint, cozy restaurant Vergil had taken you to, you grumbled at the scene before you, your dissatisfaction very clearly expressed on your face.

Your boyfriend Vergil had decided to take you to a cute little restaurant for dinner as opposed to something fancier simply for the homely atmosphere. Honestly, at this point, you were beginning to wish he'd taken you somewhere fancier because if he did, there would be a less likely chance of the waitresses crowding around your table, chattering away at him as they were now.

"Oh my God, look at his muscles!" One of them squealed, reaching out to poke Vergil's bicep. After seeing this, you wished he hadn't chosen to take off his cost to eat.

"And his hands are so big and strong," Another cooed, this one a dumb looking bimbo with too much makeup and dry hair.

"He is so good looking, I'm folding like clean laundry!" Giggled yet another woman whose face you couldn't see, to a bitchy-looking girl who had way too many lip fillers.

"I know, right?" She cackled, lightly running her hands, adorned with ridiculously long neon pink talons down Vergil's forearm.

These women--no--these bitches were treating Vergil more like an object to be admired rather than a person, seeing as they weren't respecting his personal space, or yours for that matter.

"Could I sit there?" Asked one woman, pointing to your seat. When you looked up to meet her face, you nearly recoiled in shock--she looked like a literal clown with her face paint and awful hairdo, not to mention her weird looking outfit that seemed to have been together from whatever she could find in a local high school's lost and found box.

"N-no...no, you can't," You finally answered, once you'd regained your ability to speak. In response to your words, the woman pouted, but did not leave. Instead, she seized your arm and began pulling on you in an attempt to get you out of your seat, that you were paying for. Good God, the entitlement of this woman!

Vergil himself ignored the women harassing him; it didn't bother him one bit, he'd endured worse at the hands of Mundus. But to see you being harassed by anyone at all made him put his foot down.

"Take your hands off her," He commanded, staring at the woman with a glare cold enough to freeze lava.

The woman, visibly upset, moodily took her hands off you and stalked away, though once she left, several more took her place. Groaning internally, you focused your attention on the table, trying so very hard to tune out the world around you. Vergil saw this, obviously, and reached across the table for your hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

You'd think by now, the women would have gotten the hint that the man they were fawning over was already taken, but nooooo. These girls were either idiots or they thought they could steal your boyfriend right out from under you. All of them. At once.

There was a severe lack of braincells in that room, unfortunately.

As you were trying so very hard to ignore these pests, one girl had the audacity to remark,

"You, girl, are way out of your league. He's too good for you."

"Yeah, bestie. Seriously though," Another girl scoffed. "He's male model hot, and you're just, well, basic."

"Yup, pretty basic bitch right here," Chimed in the third. "It makes no sense, why do ugly girls get all the fine men?" The girls were now talking amongst themselves about you, rather than to you.

"Honestly, he should just leave her,'" Sighed one of the girls. "He can do so much better."

At that point, you lost all the last shreds of self control you had left. With a screech unfamiliar to even your own brain, you lifted your glass of water and splashed it on the girls, effectively soaking their shirts and pants. Squealing like the little piggy that went "wee, wee, wee," all the way home, the girls fled from the scene, naturally causing a great deal of confusion and tension to arise in the restaurant.

You caught sight of a manager approaching you, as did Vergil, who immediately leapt from his seat, slipped on his coat, took your hand in his, and briskly led you out the door.

The two of you walked in silence for some time before you decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry, Vergil." You sighed, sounding sadder than you meant to.

"For what?" He replied, turning to look at you.

"For...ruining our dinner date...and causing a scene...and embarrassing the both of us in public..." You let out a shaky, nervous sigh which quickly turned into a small gasp of surprise when Vergil let go of your hand and thew his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

"You have nothing to apologize for." He told you, sternly.

"I...don't?" You asked, confused.

"Not at all." He affirmed, rubbing small circles into your shoulder with his thumb. "It was simply an act of jealousy. I would have done the same, had our roles been reversed." He paused a moment before adding with a smile,

"I am proud of you for standing up for yourself, and me." A tiny, unintentional gasp left you as you stared up at him, noting how his cold blue eyes glowed with a warmth reserved only for moments like this between the two of you.

"Really?" You inquired, almost breathlessly.

"Absolutely. It shows you have power, that you are willing to fight when necessary. It means you are motivated," Vergil said, leaning down to plant a soft and brief kiss on your forehead. "Do not stress over it any longer. Let us return home. We will continue our dinner date there."

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around Vergil's torso, clinging onto him as you walked--a very rare occurrence, which you savored. Now that your jealousy was gone, you had to admit, those women had a point: Vergil really was too good for you.

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letgomaggie · 4 months

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All my bridgerton thoughts, compressed:

1. The true love story is definitely Penelope and Eloise. No matter how hard they try, they cannot pivot away from the fact that friendship is the heart of this season. Be it between Penelope and Eloise, or Eloise and Cressida, or Penelope and Colin: it is that which drives this particular season.

2. To add to the above point: Colin may be Penelope's love interest, but it is Eloise who understands her. Eloise asks if Penelope seems despondent or sad - not just a simple is she okay but instead here are things she could be, which one is it? She knows her friend, no matter what. And Colin, for all that he is, does not find it all too startling that Penelope is suddenly looking for marriage. Eloise does. If Colin's eyes follow Pen across the ballroom, so do Eloise's.

3. Eloise has someone to talk to about the effect her friendship breakup is taking on her. Penelope has no one. I find Nicola to be an increasingly fantastic actor because she holds this tension so very well throughout the whole of Part 1. When Eloise comes to visit her, you see why she asked Colin what Penelope was feeling. Because Penelope is feeling that, has been feeling that ever since. Its so raw and on her face for the world to see but only one person ever looked and understood and read her like a book.

4. The two fingers while fixing her dress? Gag me god gag me

5. I have not seen the point of the Mondrich plot until this season which is where they are really using it to root the show to reality. There are conversations to be had that the society simply does not want to and Mondriches are the embodiment of it. Constantly knocking at society's door and making themselves be heard and fighting for a seat at the table but unwilling to compromise on what feels good and right. It's subtle and ita frustrating and I like that it's getting to people. You're going to get annoyed enough that the looking glass metaphor will play out in real life for you.

6. I see how unhinged Colin is being about Penelope and while I love that for her, I also get how fucked up her situation is rn. She does need stability. She has found her purpose. And I want her to be selfish in protecting that bit of herself. Instead of what she has been doing. She tried with Debling and yes, it was vexing to see how she ran after him but. I get it too? It's not always roses and camomiles. Cressida is the foil to this same narrative. The Bridgertons are foolishly romantic but that is just them. The show is through their lens but we can take a step back and see it for it is as well. I found Debling to be perfect and his reasons for ending everything were as well. If a little crassly done. Colin proposing to Penelope and falling headfirst in love just as she starts looking out for herself? My heart still needs to be sold on this idea, no matter how hot and sexy everything is.

7. The hair grab oh. Colin Bridgerton you slut. You whore. Colin Bridgerton would like to be pegged I promise. These two will actually be the couple who try out shit in the bedroom out of intrigue and discover a hidden kink. Colin finding the answer to his pent up ruminations when Penelope drags her hand tenderly through his hair vs Penelope close to tears because it is a dream come true and how many times has she imagined this and now its happening and its all that and more? Fucking yes

8. The diaries intrigue me. I shit you not I started this season with the firm belief that Colin had in fact NOT travelled lasts season because he was being all quiet about it. End of Ep 1 and I am now convinced he only really wants to talk if people listen and the only one who ever listened was Pen and if she's not there to hear him what is the point of speaking? He functions on 0 braincells because like. He has all the facts he's just not looking at them.

9. Someone talked of how they want to know more about Colin because he's been coming off as 2D and I agree. This is being told more from Penelope's view than Colin's and that is skewing the narrative a bit. I need more than 'pirate fashion-current rake-newly minted fuckboy' from him.

10. I like the yellow bedsheet.

11. The opening with the pining looks from Pen towards Eloise really set the mood and I'm so glad for it. For that matter I feel like Colin's apology for the comment last season was rushed and half hearted and I understand the hot and heavy vibes but they are friends first and that is the heart of the season and so much, so fucking much is left unresolved and I need them to have a couple of heated conversations PLEASE. express emotions fr!!! Beyond breathing hard!!

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton season 3 spoilers #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ya these are straight up unfiltered y'all i may have more thoughts coming soon

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whumpndump · 1 year

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I feel like headaches are underutilized in whump. Pain most anywhere else can be ignored to some extent, but a headache? That's in your brain. Right next to all the synapses and receptors you're willing to ignore it. A little harder.

Nobody can see the pain, it's not a visible injury, so people can struggle to sympathize. They might even not believe you, say you're being dramatic.

And a bad headache, it can do awful things.

Can make a normally kindhearted person short and snappy, too agonized to take the time they normally do with things.

Can reduce the smartest, most insightful people to an animal running on instinct, their braincells too caught up in the burning, stabbing, throbbing to come up with any thoughts more complex than "Fuck, this hurts."

Can drive someone to near madness, the pain so intense and long lasting that they feel like they're dying, that dying might be a better option. Crying out for mercy, for peace, for death.

And when the headache is over? No evidence of it. No physical scarring. No long lasting physical effects. No sympathy from others past a couple of "I'm glad you're okay now"s. You just have to move on now, it's over so get yourself together.

And what if it comes back? Sometimes you can tell, can feel the faint tingle in your skull, but sometimes it'll strike again, months later, with zero warning. If it was bad enough the first time, you might spend weeks on edge, nervous of another one creeping up on you.

Plus, there's just so many types of headaches. Dehydration, exhaustion, sinus congestion, just plain old "no real reason" ones. Do they stab just behind one eye? Do they wrap your head like a tight rubber band? Do they burrow from the inside of your brain like a parasite?

Anyway yeah. Headaches.

#whump #whumpdumps #whumpblr #whump prompt #illness whump #based on my own experiences lol #sorry if this is a little incoherent im sort of tired

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 2 months

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birthday countdown 2024, day 5: rescue snippet

the birthday countdown continues to tick down! today, i have for you a beckman pov scene in need of a fic; the scrivener document title is “this belongs in a plottier story,” and i stand by that description:

Giving Shanks a look somewhere between misery and murder, Buggy mutters, “You have no idea what it's like.” “Mm, I don't know… people having a lot of undeserved expectations sounds pretty familiar to me.” Shanks moves to fidget with the brim of a hat that he no longer owns. “Oh come on,” Buggy scoffs. “I mean it! I was—Buggy, I was a child when the captain gave me that hat. I wasn’t an exceptional pirate, or a prodigious fighter, or anything like that. He didn’t give it to me to declare me his heir, he gave it to me because I was a kid on his ship, who thought his hat looked cool, and asked if I could wear it.” A wry smile on his face, Shanks says, “The difference between me and you is I learned how to work around expectations, instead of being dragged in their wake.” “There are way more differences between us than just that,” Buggy mutters. “Like number of functioning arms. Or braincells.” “Oh, yeah,” Shanks says, faux-thoughtfully. Beckman quietly braces himself. Buggy bristles; he clearly recognizes that tone too. “Underwater, I guess I do have more of those than you.”

(1.3k below the cut)

Beckman is in an early morning meeting with his captain, another in a long line of meetings with not a smile to be seen—not with so many big names anchored close by, their men cohabitating, waiting for a decision to be made—when a faint cry from on deck has Shanks shooting upright in his chair. He turns an eye in that direction, his unerring observation haki telling him something that alarms him.

Beckman casts his own senses that way. It feels like conflict between a couple low-level crewmen, with one gone overboard. Concerning, but nothing serious enough to warrant Shanks’ personal intervention… but Beckman hasn’t been first mate of the Red-Haired Pirates this long for no reason. When Shanks runs out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “Get Yasopp and a life preserver—actually, make it two—port side, as fast as you can,” Beckman’s already on his feet, doubting that they’ll make it in time.

Luckily Yasopp is quick to find—he prefers to be at the highest point of the ship when they have strangers on board, keeping an eagle eye on enemies and friends alike, and by his frown he has more of an idea of what's happened than Beckman. Luckily Beckman just finished orienting new crew on the places where they store safety supplies, so the life preservers aren't blocked off and hidden by the barrels of supplies they brought on the day before last. Luckily Shanks left a trail of his discarded cape and sandals that's easy to follow, easier still when it ends in a pair of foam-mouthed crewmen collapsed against a wall.

Beckman hears the quiet plup of a diver with excellent form entering the waters below without a hint of a splash, and leans over the railing to see a faint pale sliver of a figure swimming down, down, and away…

Yasopp measures the wind, hefts each life preserver consideringly, and nods. “When he surfaces, I'll be ready,” he says. “You go ahead, get those two out of sight.”

Beckman nods. Whatever these men did, it riled Shanks up enough to use conqueror’s haki on his own crew. It's worth a private interrogation, if nothing else. Without saying a word, he hefts one over either shoulder and strolls back across the deck. And if any of their guests notice, and pass word along to their home ships… that’s one less thing for Beckman to deal with.

“Well?” Shanks asks when Beckman returns to the main deck, not quite half an hour later. He's ruffling a towel through his hair, which is going to dry in awful salt spikes later, but he appears, essentially, fine. You'd never guess by looking at him that he'd gone in the water for anything more than a passing fancy.

His rescuee, on the other hand, is a miserable, bruised, half-drowned rat of a man. His disembodied hands wring seawater out of his clothes and back into the ocean as he shivers under three oversized towels, but the glare on Buggy the Star Clown’s face would almost make you think Shanks had been the one to push him overboard.

“Spies for Blackbeard,” Beckman says. Shanks frowns. Disappointed, but unsurprised. “Apparently Buggy caught them at it and attempted to blackmail them rather than turn them in.” Buggy scoffs under his breath. “They knocked him out and tossed him over the side of the ship, intending to claim he'd made an escape by—”

“I know what they intended,” Shanks says. His chipper demeanor is long gone. “Buggy, how did you spot them?”

Buggy scoffs again—or maybe coughs, his voice is so hoarse with saltwater that it's hard to tell. “I didn't! Those idiots assumed I was one of them, and came around to brag about how much progress they'd made in getting close to you.” He coughed again, turning to hack a wad of phlegm overboard. “The disrespect! As if the Genius Jester Buggy would ever deign to work for that overgrown weasel.”

Shanks stays quiet; on a hunch, Beckman follows his lead.

“And of course the spies decided that I had intentionally tricked them into revealing themselves,” Buggy continues to rant, “and that I must have done so to blackmail them into handing over Blackbeard’s secrets, which outraged and offended them so much that before I could split myself they were beating on me until I blacked out.” He rubs at a bruise-dark temple gingerly, then says, “I woke up just as they were hefting me overboard.”

A faint hint of a smile curls the corner of Shanks’ mouth. “Things like this really do just happen to you, don't they?”

Gesturing expansively, Buggy says, “They really do! People assume all sorts of shit about me, and whether I want to go along with it or not they don't let me get a word in edgewise, and then before you know it I'm a Warlord! or an Emperor! with no actual power to back up my position!” Giving Shanks a look somewhere between misery and murder, he mutters, “You have no idea what it's like.”

“Mm, I don't know… people having a lot of undeserved expectations sounds pretty familiar to me.” Shanks moves to fidget with the brim of a hat that he no longer owns.

“Oh come on,” Buggy scoffs.

“I mean it! I was—Buggy, I was a child when the captain gave me that hat. I wasn’t an exceptional pirate, or a prodigious fighter, or anything like that. He didn’t give it to me to declare me his heir, he gave it to me because I was a kid on his ship, who thought his hat looked cool, and asked if I could wear it.” A wry smile on his face, Shanks says, “The difference between me and you is I learned how to work around expectations, instead of being dragged in their wake.”

“There are way more differences between us than just that,” Buggy mutters. “Like number of functioning arms. Or braincells.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shanks says, faux-thoughtfully. Beckman quietly braces himself. Buggy bristles; he clearly recognizes that tone too. “Underwater, I guess I do have more of those than you.”

“Barely!” Buggy snaps. Beckman takes the opportunity to grab the clothing Buggy had started to neglect during this conversation and pass it along to a crewman already headed for to the laundry. He has a feeling Buggy’s charming personality won’t become more bearable if he drops his only outfit overboard while he’s distracted. “And who the hell asked you to anyway?! You’ve got a ship full of people who obey your orders, supposedly, why didn’t one of them, with the proper number of arms for rescue swimming, pull me out?!”

Shanks blinks. “What do you mean, ‘who the hell asked me to?’ You asked me to.”

Buggy blinks. Then blushes.

Yes, Beckman realizes, thinking back, that cry that first drew Shanks’ attention had sounded a bit like his name.

“I—that was—“ Buggy visibly fails to think of another word he could have possibly said in that moment. He snatches away Shanks’ towel to bury his head under it and sigh, “An old reflex.”

Shanks crouches down, taking the towel back and running it over Buggy’s hair with more care than he’d given his own. “After all this time, you still trust me to keep you from drowning.” He waits for Buggy to look at him before saying, “How could I do anything less than honor that trust?”

Beckman feels, far from the first time, like he's interrupting something here. The last time he’d asked, Shanks had just laughed. Which was, he’d thought at the time, a very roundabout but unambiguous answer to the question. Looking at Buggy’s face now, Beckman thinks he understands why. Whatever it is he’s interrupting here, Buggy is aware of it too, and he’s terrified of it.

Poor Shanks.

#birthday countdown 2024 #notfic #one piece #shuggy #i wish i had a story i could put this scene in #unfortunately all i’ve got is ~vibes~

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