#which i dunno could be a slight problem

[missdynamighttt]

okay not an ask but ive been dying to see some filo reader x katsuki 🙏🙏 katsuki would be so mesmerized he would learn to cook every dish there is and ask if it tastes like home UGH MY BABY

i know its NOT an ask but ><

katsuki wasn’t one to ask for help, but for you? he’d do anything.

you had been feeling a little down lately, and he knew that one of the things that always made you feel better was your favorite filipino dish. the only problem? he had no damn clue how to make it.

which is how he found himself pacing in the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear as it rang.

"hello? sino 'to? (who's this?)" your mom’s voice came through, warm and familiar.

"hey, tita (auntie)," katsuki greeted, a little awkwardly but determined to speak at least a little bit of tagalog. "it's katsuki. i, uh… need your help with something... po."

"oh?" she sounded amused. "what is it, 'nak? (child?)"

he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "i wanna cook her favorite dish for her po, but... i dunno how. thought you could, y’know… teach me."

there was a pause, and then—laughter. "ay, ang sweet mo naman! (oh, you're so sweet!)"

he huffed, his cheeks warming. "tch. just help me out po, tita... please?"

your mom giggled but started giving him the instructions, step by step. katsuki listened intently, taking notes like it was the most important mission of his life. when he messed something up, your mom scolded him like he was her own son.

"no, no, not like that! ay nako (oh my gosh), katsuki, don’t burn it!"

"i’m not burning it!" he retorted, quickly adjusting the heat.

by the end of the call, he had the dish almost perfect—maybe not as good as your mom’s, but damn close.

"thank you po, tita," he muttered, a little embarrassed but genuinely grateful.

"of course, anak," she said fondly. "you take care of my baby, okay?"

he smiled softly. "always."

katsuki wasn’t the type to get nervous. he could take down villains, handle the most intense hero work, and push himself past his limits without hesitation.

but right now?

he had set everything up carefully—your favorite dish, cooked to the best of his ability, plated nicely in front of you. he sat across from you, arms crossed, but you could see the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his bicep.

"i know you’ve been feelin’ kinda down lately," he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. "figured... maybe this would help."

you blinked at him, surprised, before looking down at the plate. your heart swelled. he did all of this for you?

"katsu..." you whispered, touched beyond words.

"just eat it already," he grumbled, trying to sound impatient, but you could see the way his jaw was tight, the slight furrow of his brows. he cared—he really cared.

so you took a bite.

the moment the flavors hit your tongue, a wave of emotions crashed over you. it wasn’t exactly like your mom’s, but it was damn close. the effort, the heart, the love behind it made it even better.

"this is amazing, kats," you said, looking up at him with genuine admiration. "how the hell did you pull this off? did you use a youtube tutorial? google recipes?"

katsuki scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smug look. "tch. you think i’d trust some half-assed internet recipe?"

you raised an eyebrow. "then how—"

he huffed, looking away, suddenly seeming a little flustered. "called your mom," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "she walked me through it."

your eyes widened. "you called my mom?"

"yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, avoiding your gaze. "figured if i was gonna do it, i’d do it right. so i asked the expert."

you stared at him for a moment, your heart swelling with warmth. "katsuki... that’s so—"

"shut up," he cut in quickly, face slightly pink. "just eat, dammit."

but you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. he had gone out of his way to talk to your mom, to learn something that would comfort you. it wasn’t just about the food—it was about you.

you took another bite, savoring the taste and the love behind it.

"i love you, y’know that?" you said, smiling at him.

katsuki clicked his tongue, trying to act unaffected, but the way his ears burned gave him away. "yeah, yeah… i love you too. just finish your damn food."

but when you looked down at your plate again, you felt his hand reach for yours under the table, giving it a small, firm squeeze. and that, more than anything, told you exactly how much he cared.

katsuki watched you like a hawk, leaning in just slightly. "does it… y’know… does it taste like home?"

your chest tightened, warmth blooming in your heart.

"it does," you murmured, squeezing his hand back. "it tastes like home because you feel like home, katsuki."

he stiffened for a second, almost not sure how to process your words.

"tch. sappy little shit," he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice, feel the way his grip tightened like he never wanted to let go.

"you're my home too, sweets."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[foodiegoogie]

"𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫" 𝐮𝐩! | 𝟐.𝟖𝐤

from 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | a james potter x fem!reader series summary: in which james does something for you, even though you didn't ask him to

cw: slight angst with a fluff ending, reader is 18, kinda has anger issues, she's also a little lonely, james and sirius are menaces to society, remus just wants to sleep, and peter is just happy to be here.

note: i think james potter himself possessed me while writing this cuz how'd it get to nearly 3k... enjoy! n thanks for being patient w meeee

main masterlist

This might just be the worst day of your entire life. 

Your entire life, so far, of eighteen years of your very existence here on planet Earth.

Just about everyone in the classroom has been handed back their test papers, whispering amongst themselves about scores, corrections, wrong answers, and whatnot. It’s a pretty loud classroom, actually, and especially considering where you’re sitting: right in front of James Potter and his row of rowdy boys—except for Peter, because he isn’t the rowdy type, but nor was Remus, because you’ve known him since kindergarten. So, really—the problem was James and Sirius sitting right beside each other.

It was already more than enough that your professor came up to your seat, handed you the test paper—your folded test paper, mind you—and then left you with a sympathetic smile.

Whatever could have awaited you in your paper that needed a sympathetic smile?

Well, the very answer lies right in front of you, on your desk. You wince at the sight of so many red marks at the very front page of your test paper. Internally, you’re tearing things apart and wreaking havoc. Externally, though, you’re—

“Hoho, Potter! Perfect marks, again? Mate, don’t forget me when you’re famous!”

—trying not to break down into tears—

“It’s really no big deal, Sirius. Dunno what you’re on about.”

—because if only you had gotten perfect bloody marks—

“Oi, what d'you mean ‘no big deal?’ Mate, you should be at the top of the class���”

“Oh, would you just shut it?!” You whip your head around, facing the two boys behind you with a glare so intense, it could’ve sent both James and Sirius to the grave. Your words come out of your mouth sharper than intended, and it is at this moment that you realize…

…you’ve just humiliated yourself in front of the entire classroom, while your professor’s still with you.

It takes a few seconds for your sudden outburst to really settle in, your classmates’ eyes weighing heavy on your form, before everyone’s starting to whisper again. You reckon it’s not about anything on the test papers this time.

Meanwhile, your professor clears his throat awkwardly, “Er… Ms. Y/L/N—”

“May I go to the restroom, professor?” You ask him, but you’re already on your feet and preparing for the walk of shame out of the classroom.

He clears his throat, adjusting his collar as if the temperature in the classroom had increased dramatically, “Yes. Yes, you may.”

Someone moves your chair out of the way for you, but you don’t notice it in your rush out of the classroom, head ducked low and hair falling in place to cover your face. 

It was certainly enough to feel quite embarrassed with your lower-than-expected score in the first place, but at least you had had that feeling alone with yourself in company.

But to make a scene like that, completely unprovoked? Well, you’d say that you were definitely going to be quite the celebrity around your school today.

—

Your stay in the girls’ lavatory lasts for about—well, the rest of your previous period’s time. You wouldn’t want to face yet another moment of shame just walking from the entrance to your classroom all the way back to your seat. 

So, as everyone’s busy talking to one another and going about their business as usual, you make your return back to your seat. You catch a few of your classmates’ gazes turning toward you—Lily’s at the front shooting you an encouraging smile, and Marlene’s at her left, just about to wave at you when the redhead slowly pulls her seatmate’s hand down.

But as you near your seat, you feel a sense of dread come over you once more, and James’ head rising from his crossed arms on his desk did not help with that. He was likely napping when you were entering the classroom. That usually—well, rarely happened, but only when the boy was bored.

A quiet, but relieved sigh leaves your nose as you take your seat back down, eyes fluttering close as you lean back in your chair. So much has already happened, and it’s only been one period out of the rest of your day in school. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive the rest of the day feeling like this.

It’s no use dwelling on past occurrences, though, or so you try to tell yourself as you pluck a textbook out of your backpack. If you can’t forget about it, might as well distract yourself from it, right?

Right. Thus, with that in mind, you crack your textbook open and place it on your desk—hang on.

Hang on just a moment. 

“Hey,” You clear your throat, trying to mask your bubbling anxiety over your missing test paper. You turn to look at Sirius, then James, Peter, and Remus, all their attention caught just by you looking at them so desperately, it seems.

You’re not really in the place right now to ridicule them for it, figuratively and literally speaking.

“Have any of you seen my, er, test paper? It was just here on my desk when I left the room.”

All at once, three of the boys turn to look at James, who’s suddenly intrigued by the writing on the blackboard in front of the room. In fact, he looks so intrigued, he’s rubbing his chin in… deep thought with one eyebrow raised. 

Remus clears his throat expectantly, and that’s when you know something’s up. Your heart rate spikes up at the possibility that someone might have seen and taken your test paper without you around.

James is alerted by the sound, anyhow, and is startled by all three of his best mates pointedly side-eyeing him at the same time. 

“What? What did I do?”

“Oh, defensive, are we?” Sirius starts, rolling his eyes halfheartedly. 

He continues, “C’mon, Prongsie. Tell ‘er so we can all get this over with.”

“Tell her what, Pads?” James glances at you for a fraction of a second, albeit warily, but you narrow your eyes in suspicion nonetheless. You decide to let them continue to talk amongst themselves and get to the bottom of things that way.

Unexpectedly, it’s Peter who speaks up next. 

“Er… James? I-I think I can speak for all three of us when I say that—“ 

“Say what, Pete? Because I don’t know what in Godric’s name you’re all on about! I’m feeling wrongly accused here!” 

It is then that the boys start to “quietly” (however quiet they can be when they’re all together) argue amongst themselves: James versus three of his best mates, to be exact. 

It’s a fight you aren’t keen to watch at the moment, though. Under different circumstances, you might have cracked a smile or something, but with your questions left unanswered… cracking a smile at anything already feels like a chore.

You turn back around, facing your textbook on your desk. Behind you, you can still hear the boys bickering, although it’s mostly just James and Sirius whispering loudly to each other now. You’d bet that Remus had given up almost entirely on winning against James’ ridiculous arguments, and that Peter had decided it’d be best if he just kept quiet. 

“Shhh, shut up! No—shut up—!”

“No, you shut up! You nosy li’l bugger—“ 

A tired sigh leaves your mouth as you visibly deflate against your chair. The sounds of the previously ongoing argument behind you hushes into silence. But you’re not about to have an outburst again, no. You’re just… tired. 

Tired of sitting in front of the two noisiest people in your class.

Tired of the ever-present pressure that is the expectations of your professor and classmates.

Tired of feeling like shit, and being affirmed with that by stupid bloody marks on a stupid test paper that’s probably being laughed at right now.

You don’t realize how harshly you’re staring down at the textbook on your desk until you feel a tap on your left shoulder. 

You turn your head curiously, gaze landing on Sirius Black, who had just been staring off outside the windows of the classroom. But then he turns his head to you just as you turn to look behind you, and his grey eyes widen with surprise.

His hands raise up automatically in defense, shaking his head and then pointing a finger to his right—his right being James Potter looking interested, yet again, by the blackboard up front.

A knot forms between your brows, looking back at Sirius only to be met with his enthusiastically pointing at his best mate—or is it insistent, not enthusiastic?

James remains undeterred, though, as if he wasn’t being pointed at insistently at the very moment.  

Weird, you thought. But if none of them were about to own up soon, then it’s best if you just leave it alone altogether, and so you do. You finally get around to opening the textbook and scanning the table of contents for a chapter when suddenly, there’s another tap on your shoulder.

But it comes from your right this time.

You turn instantly, nevertheless, eyes landing on Peter as you wait expectantly for whatever it is he had tapped your shoulder for. In your periphery, James is now leaning dramatically into Sirius’ direction, acting like a big lapdog as the raven-haired boy tries to get him as far away from himself as possible. But James is nothing if not persistent and, respectfully, annoying.

Peter, meanwhile, is just as expectant as you as he returns your gaze. He looks around the room like he’s confirming that it’s him you’re looking at (you’re sitting at the last two rows of the room, though, so you don’t see why he should do all that, really). Once again, weird behavior.

You still wait for Peter to speak to you, raising an eyebrow in silent question. The boy blinks rapidly and visibly gulps, clearly nervous. You give him some relief by shifting your gaze towards Remus to Peter’s right, but the former’s already napping on his armrest, face turned away from your direction.

Something is definitely up. All signs are pointing to a certain James Potter, who just so happens to be sitting precisely right behind you, so who else could have been tapping you on the shoulder this entire time?

You turn back to face the front with furrowed brows, half-irritated and half-exasperated with how ridiculous of a situation you’ve got on your hands: a missing test paper, suspicious background-boys activity, James Potter being weirdly infatuated with the blackboard, your missing test paper—

There’s another tap on your left shoulder, and you’re no longer in the mood for any more dilly dallying so you turn sharply towards the culprit and—

“Alright, calm down. No need to be hostile, yeah?” James reasons with both hands in front of him as he slowly— ridiculously slowly— lowers himself down onto the empty chair beside you. It seems like you hadn’t noticed the fact that all chairs in your row, aside from yours, were very much empty at the moment.

’No need to be hostile,’ he says. Who’s he to tell me what to do?

“What exactly are you doing here, may I ask? Your chair’s not exactly broken, is it?” 

“Yeah, not broken. But you’ve got to cut me some slack here—I’ve been on a calorie-deficit diet since last week. Can you imagine?”

“No. I really can’t. Boo-hoo,” You deadpan. 

The bespectacled boy sighs wistfully, almost like he’s the old man character in a movie, about to drop something wise.

“No, I suppose you can’t, can you? You’ve got other things to think about.”

“Yes, I do. Thanks for acknowledging that, Potter.”

A beat passes before he speaks again, glancing at you sideways. “Like… say, perhaps… that test paper of yours, huh?”

…what did he just say?

You return his sideway glance with your own, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What about my test paper… James?”

The man in question nibbles on his bottom lip, looking like a little boy who just got caught by his mum for stealing a cookie from the jar. 

“Well, er… how do I—no, that sounds wrong, too…” James mumbles.

You sigh. “James, I can’t hear you. What did you say—?”

“Your test paper,” He finally says, loud and clear again. “You should check it in your bag.”

In my bag? 

If possible, you’re just more confused than you were a while ago, muttering under your breath about how you’ll request Lily to speak to your adviser if you could switch seats somewhere else far from James. You grab your backpack and place it in your lap, pulling both zippers downward by either side, already prepared to prove James wrong and—

Oh, your test paper’s staring right back at you inside your backpack, just as James had suggested you do. 

Slowly, you turn back towards him. “How did you—?”

“I put it there, alright? I didn’t steal anything or mess with anything. I’m not a creep. I— actually, I pride myself on being quite the neat freak—”

“James.”

“—and you know, my mother even boasts about it to her friends, bless her heart—”

“James.”

He stops his rambling, then sighs. “Okay, I did put it there. That’s that. Sorry if I invaded your stuff without your permission.”

“That’s not even what I’m—” You sigh again. You catch yourself getting ahead of your emotions. “James, I just wanted to know how you knew it was in my bag in the first place. But now that you said you put it there yourself, I just…”

“...just what?”

You avoid his eyes, glancing at him sheepishly and fidgeting with your backpack. “Jus’ wanna know why you’d do that, I s’pose.” I mean, was it that bad of a score that he felt second-hand embarrassment? As if I needed any more of that…

“Well,” James starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “You kind of… stormed out of the classroom earlier, and then your paper fell to the ground—don’t worry, nobody saw your score, I made sure of it—and then I picked it up to place it inside your bag for you. The end.”

He ends with a small, slightly awkward smile as if he’s still cautious about you potentially “being hostile” towards him again. You’re starting to feel bad about everything else that’s happened between you and him, alongside his friends.

“Really?” You reply with subtle disbelief. “You did all that… for me?”

A brief glance downward enables you to see James’ leg bouncing up and down restlessly, but if you turn your gaze back up to his eyes, he looks perfectly calm. Weird.

He clears his throat then, raising his nose up in the air with all the air of a pompous rich kid—which, realistically speaking, he sort of is. “It’s no big deal. Just doing what’s right.”

A small chuckle manages to slip out of your lips, and you shake your head in amusement at how quick he went from being apologetic and sweet to arrogant and just… unapologetically himself.

Kind… of full of himself, but kind regardless. Selfless. Cute, at times. Adorable, when he—

“Right, well. Is that all, then?”

You blink, admittedly a little startled. “Er… yeah? I think so…”

James hums in a sing-song manner, then rises up from the chair beside you. “Okay. Cool.”

“O-Okay…” You echo weakly, unsure of how to act or respond as you watch him linger in front of you. “...cool?

He nods, says “Cool,” one more time, before carrying the chair beside you up from the floor, and takes it with him as he walks away from you.

…what?

“Uh, James?” You call.

“Yeah?” He turns back around to face you—chair and all—waiting.

“What’s the… chair for?”

“Oh!” He chuckles, canines on full display as he gestures around with the chair. He’s lifting it like it weighs nothing. You don’t let that thought linger in your mind. “I knew I was forgetting something.” With him saying that, you’d expect him to return the chair in its rightful place, and make up some ridiculous story about how he was just showing off and flexing his strength and stuff like that— but no, he doesn’t.

Instead, he says—

“Chair up, Y/N.” 

—while beaming at you, his dimples coming alive on his face. ‘Chair up…’ cheer up?

Then, he raises the chair he’s carrying just slightly higher, as if to emphasize his point, before slowly bringing it back down to the floor—but not without an exaggerated grunt, of course. James wouldn’t be James if he wasn’t making a scene, no matter where or what situation he’s in. 

You go about the rest of your day blushing at chairs if you stare at them for more than a second. 

thanks for reading! \(￣︶￣*\)) likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated~

[marks-bby]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀LITTLE MISS PERFECT

synopsis : getting homosexual tendencies for her best friend? absolutely not!

note : i just started playing tlou2 again and my love for abby and ellie blossomed again. naughty dog knew what they were doing

ft. : questioning homosexuality, internalized homophobia, non-apocalyptic au, implied smut but not that descriptive, ellie already has a crush on reader but it’s not really described until they kiss and what not.

you search through the rack of bras, lazily looking for one that at least looks fitting. you huff, starting to lose hope. your hands stop at one. a black lacy one, which if your wore, would cover nothing. it reminded you of that erotic video you found went internet surfing.

two women alone together, exploring each other’s bodies. their tongues acting like a paintbrush and their bodies were canvases, covered in saliva.

you press your lips together, trying to push down the tingling in your body. you can’t be gay. you literally have a crush on that ABC news host.

“[name], honey? did you find one yet?” your mother asks, messing with the displayed jewelry. “no, there’s nothing here.” you sigh, hiding the bra in the rack.

you had no problem with homosexuality. hell, your whole search history is the complete opposite of heterosexuality. your best friend is a lesbian. but there is no way you’re gay. that’s…just not you.

after many of those “are you gay” tests, your answers remain the same. ‘you’re most definitely a lesbian, babes’.

you lay on ellie’s bed, blindly flipping through one of her many comic books. you blow raspberry, getting bored a little. “what?” she diverts her eyes from her TV for a second before tending back to her game.

“nothing.” you flip a few more pages until your eyes land on a certain panel. two girls in close proximity, lips ghosting over each other. you swallow a large lump, trying to push away the thoughts again.

but now you can only think of you in that situation. curled up next to a girl, her hand rubbing softly on your waist.

you try to picture what she would look like, only seeing your best friend’s face. you groan, rolling on your back.

“ellie?” she hums in response. you fiddle with your thumbs before asking the question. “how did you know you were gay?”

her game pauses. “what?” she looks at you before her eyes travels to her opened comic book. “ooooh.” she laughs, picking up the book. “you picked the one i didn’t want you to get.” she closes the book, stuffing it under her bed.

she leans back, propping herself up with her arms. “ i dunno. i just…” she shrugs, “never pictured myself with a guy. and you know, boobies.”

you softly hit her, making her laugh. “i’m serious, ellie. i think i might be gay. lesbian, bi-i don’t know!” you groan, stuffing your face in your hands.

“i mean, why don’t you?” she lays on her side, looking at you. “that ABC news host.”

“David Muir?”

you nod, making her scoff. “do you have a crush on any guy at job?” she twirls a strand of your hair in her fingers. “god no. they all look like troglodytes.” you grimace at the thought of liking them.

“can you picture yourself marrying a man for the rest of your life?”

that question made your stomach drop. you feel bile pile up in your throat. ‘yes, you can’ you try to convince yourself.

“no, i guess not.” you give a slight frown at your answer, looking down.

“hey, it’s normal. not everyone is straight. and you sure aren’t.” she laughs. “oh shut it!” you huff.

she stops laughing after a while. “well, let’s kiss to see if you are gay.” she suggest so nonchalantly. kiss? your best friend?

“uhhhh..” “if you don’t like it, we don’t have to ever talk about it.”

you look at her, contemplating whether you should go through with this. you couldn’t deny that ellie was very attractive. you could say that she was your “gay awakening���. they way she was naturally flirty with you was the beginning of the questioning phase for you.

“let’s do it.” you sit on your legs, waiting for her to kiss you.

she gives you a soft smile, getting up.

“you sure?” she questions, not wanting this to go wrong. you nod.

she takes a deep breath, putting her hand on your cheek to pull you in.

your skin ignites. this is what you’ve dreamed of. intimacy with a woman. natural intimacy. not like those forced erotic videos you watch in your free time.

her lips press on yours, her eyelashes tickling the apple of your cheek. you reciprocate the affection, putting a hand on her cheek.

a moan slips from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut. the hand on your cheek falls to your hips, her hand squeezing for a few moments to tell her that this is real; this is actually happening.

in a flurry, her body is pressed on top of yours, her tongue exploring every crevice on your mouth. her hands slipped under the hem of your jeans, fingers brushing over the seat of your panties.

you card your hands through her auburn hair. “els…” you call to her as she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from hers and your bottom lip.

“you okay, princess?” she moves her hand at an angle, her thumb drawing tight circles on the pearl of your cunt. you arch into her, making her chuckle.

you nod, a moan slipping from your lips again.

“yeah, you’re definitely gay.” she giggles, stuffing her face in the crook of your neck, making you laugh too. “shut up and use your hands, ellie.”

“oh, i know something better than my hands.” she leaves your neck for a moment, digging under her bed.

she pulls out a harness. one not built for your shoulders. the purpose accessory catches your eye, making you widen them. “is that…”

“i haven’t used it yet.” she smirks. “your call.”

do you have enough red orbs? stop by my store to request a fic!

[baegetas]

》 blackout.

son goku x afab reader

summary: sitting at the bar after a hard day, you're joined by none other than your friend gohan's father, and he knows how he can cheer you up.

warnings: minors do not interact, explicit content: age gap, multiple orgasms, (slight, if you squint) implied cheating, overstimulation, drunk sex, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

you were alone at a bar. you'd completely flunked an exam that you'd studied hard for, and you were downing shots like they were nothing. even the bartender was asking if you were okay, to which you'd reply with a simple, "i will be."

while you were mindlessly scrolling through social media, a giggle cut through your brooding silence. it was familiar. you looked over your shoulder, finding that you were face-to-face with a "friend" of yours: goku. well, correction: he was gohan's father, and you were a friend of gohan's. you were a little scared of goku at first, but warmed up to him once you knew he wasn't some scary muscle-head. he grinned at you and promptly mused, "hey!"

"hello, goku."

he sat next to you, looking at you like a dejected puppy. "aw, what's wrong? you looked bored from over there, but man, you seem pretty sad."

you sighed, failing to hide the smile from him. "i guess. but i didn't expect to see you here, out of all people."

"whaaat?" goku giggled and spun the barstool around. "are you kidding? this place is so fun!"

"no, i mean, like, i didn't see you as much of a drinker."

"eh... if it's sweet, i don't care what it is. i'll drink it. heeeey!" he flagged down the bartender, grinning happily. "you have jello shots? yeah? you should give us a few!"

you gave him a slightly agitated look, to which he giggled and said, "don't worry, i'll pay! i don't know what's got you so down, but it's time to cheer up!"

that giggle would be the end of you, and you knew it. as the shots slid onto the counter in front of you, you sighed. it wouldn't be horrible to have a little fun, right?

next thing you knew, goku had convinced you to join him on the dance floor. there had always been something so charming about his idiocy. something charming about how oblivious he was. however, now that he had you in your own little corner of the place in the dark, you could see something else behind those sweet eyes. you could see intention, like he was aware of exactly what he was doing. he was aware that it was the two of you. he was aware that you were both tipsy. he was aware that he was double your size. he was very aware.

with the lights spinning again, flashing a multitude of colors, you found yourself lost in music. lost in liquor. you and goku had been gradually getting closer to one another. you found yourself dancing right against him, and his rough, calloused hands were sliding up and down the sides of your torso, with a focus on your hips. swaying back and forth in rhythm, you could feel his muscles against your back. you could feel his breath against your neck. you shuddered, and looked up at him for some sort of clue as to what he was thinking. and looking back at you were two serious, calculating eyes. like a predator. "heh. you look surprised."

your lip shook ever so slightly. "you... are you?"

he smirked. "am i what? gotta finish the sentence."

you hiccuped, trying to clear your throat. "flirting?"

"i dunno," he hummed, feigning innocence. "problem?"

your eyes flickered down to his hands on your hips. they were gripping you. "...no."

his voice dropped an octave, getting raspy. "nice. you mind if i do something?"

"to... to me?" he nodded, and you were having trouble suffocating the butterflies in your stomach. you swallowed roughly, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you stared up at him. he was holding you against him. for a moment, you thought, what would gohan think? i mean, this was your friend's dad. this man was twice your age. but nonetheless, you replied, "you... can do anything you want. to me."

within a split second, he flipped you around and pressed your back against the club's concrete wall. you had no time to breathe. goku was kissing you with a passion. your hands gripped his clothes, pulling him as close as you could. his thigh pressed in between your legs, and at that point, you were putty in his hands. all you could do was whine. this was a completely different goku, and you were loving it.

he sank his teeth into the side of your neck, and you moaned out loud. when you noticed someone staring at the two of you, your eyes widened. "ah- goku! hey."

he pulled back from your skin by just inches. "something wrong?"

"we... we can't do this. not... in public."

his voice was gravelly. "why not? i'm sure people would love to watch. make 'em jealous."

you blushed and stammered out, "it... it's indecent... and a little illegal... to do things like this in public. my apartment would be a better place."

"your apartment?" he stood straight up and pressed two fingers to his forehead. he gripped your shoulder tightly. "gotcha."

and suddenly, you were both standing in the front hallway of your apartment. you blinked a few times, unsure of what the fuck just happened, but all of that was thrown to the wayside when goku's lips found yours again, pressing you against the wall of your living room.

your belongings fell to the ground, and your hands started to pull his shirt up so you could feel his torso. every muscle, every divot - he was so fucking ripped. and his hands weren't wasting time with you, either. traveling up your thighs, he tore your panties off with one finger. his hand grabbed your entire ass, and he took in a deep inhale, smelling your scent on the skin of your neck. "god, you smell so good."

"you... ah!" you lost your train of thought when he started grinding his crotch against yours. with flushed cheeks from a drunken stupor, you mumbled, "you... want me, don't you?"

shedding his t-shirt, he growled, "what do you think?"

he was biting at your skin as his hands discarded the rest of your clothes, albeit in a more refined fashion. once you were completely nude, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. he picked you up like a doll. like you weighed absolutely nothing to him. he was quick to find your bedroom, and he quite literally threw you down onto the bed. then, he followed. and his tongue found your slit, rough hands pushing your thighs apart so he could taste you as much as he possibly could.

your hand tangled in his thick hair. he was so sloppy, but it was quick to send every nerve in your body into a frenzy. he would grunt and groan, and his nose would bump against your clit, sending a jolt through your body. when his tongue actually plunged into you, you lost all of your bearings. you came all over his face, and he replied to it with a pleased groan, unwilling to pull away until your body relaxed. with one eye open, you looked down at his messy face. his dark, widened pupils. his flushed cheeks. then, he grinned. "i thought you'd taste good, but that was better than i thought."

panting, you whined back, "goku... i..."

"already on it." he was quick to remove his pants and boxers, and he was quick to climb back over you, trapping you in another kiss. with the full weight of his body against his, you realized just how small you were. his length slid along your folds, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands found his back when he got the opportunity to press himself into you, and he did so with a guttural groan. at that point, you couldn't think. the slow stretch was just too good, and your foreheads rested against one another until he was fully sheathed in you. he panted, "so... tight... i gotta..."

you panted back, "just... just fuck me."

and when his hips started snapping back and forth, you couldn't help but whine. your nails dug into his back, and his face was buried in your neck. he was relentless, keeping a fast, steady pace. as your moans got louder, you heard his voice in your ear. "shh... be a good girl. i know you can handle it."

hitting that sweet spot over and over, it didn't take any time for you to come undone a second time. and a third time. goku hadn't even broken much of a sweat, and he had you completely folded over underneath him. your eyes were locked on his as he cooed, "yeah, that's it. good."

in that moment, you understood that he was going to finish inside you. and you didn't care one bit about it. as if on cue, his huge frame leaned down to trap you in a tongue-filled kiss, hands gripping your ass. you weren't going anywhere. he had you completely pinned.

you'd lost count of how many times you came before his thrusts started to get sloppy. he was grunting more often, shaft head poking at your cervix every now and then. it hurt, but you were far too blissed out to care. "good girl. just... a little bit more, okay?"

by now, you were a babbling mess, but you managed to nod in response. the bed was slamming against the wall, and you knew that your neighbors on all sides would be complaining about the noise, if they hadn't already. his grunts were going right into your ear, and he grunted especially loudly as he said, "you ready?"

you nodded and mewled, "yes, please."

goku growled, then moaned beautifully has he came right into you. his hips didn't even stop, riding out his own orgasm with a blissful look on his face. when his hips eventually stopped, he collapsed onto you, breathing heavily. you were doing the same. your head was spinning. after only a minute, he propped himself up on his elbow. "whew... that was... amazing."

"i... know." you said this so quietly that you could barely hear it yourself. "it was."

then, goku gave you that trademark giggle. that trademark grin. you looked at him through half lidded eyes as he said, "i think we're gonna have to do that again. way more often than just once. i'm gonna need it."

you smiled and wrapped your arms around his torso. you couldn't respond vocally, but pulling him closer was the answer he needed. he giggled again and relaxed atop you, with no intention of moving any time soon.

[henneseyhoe]

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮

[thatoneautisticshark]

SoapxPrice, with Soap being an absolute tease at the most inopportune times, trying (and succeeding!) to rile Price up until the Captain has to excuse them from the middle of something Important (but not So Important There's a Problem) to go "handle" his Sergeant's attitude.

Alright! So sorry this took a minute lol. My autistic virgin arse doesn't get teasing anyways, let alone sexual teasing so trying to write it was a challenge. But here you go!

Cw. Sex, roughish sex desk sex Abuse of power? I dunno If it counts but better safe then sorry .

Price knew that Soap was a tease, he liked to get blood boiling a little, watch people scramble to come up with responses. He mainly just made it his goal to get others angry, and that was fine.

In fact Price actually found it rather amusing, Soap getting Gaz or Ghost all angry and snapping. It was all fun and games.

Well that was until his sergeant set his sights on Price as the next target. Apparently, despite his attempt to keep it secret, Soap had discovered Prices interest in men. So obviously was .. teasing him sexually.

But Soap wasn't being homophobic or anything punishable … he was FLIRTING with Price.

Price who almost every time flushed red, further encouraging the sergeant to tease further. It was not good for Prices patience. Soap would make eye contact, while chewing on pens.

And Price knew Soap chewed on pens anyways, but this was obviously teasing, considering Soap would sensually lick the top of the pen while making eye contact.

And everytime Price would flush bright red before scolding him. Of course he couldn't say it was for the teasing so he scolded soap for chewing on pens.

But of course, the sergeant found other ways to tease. When walking by price in a tight space, he'd ‘Accidentally’ brush up against Prices arse or front.

He challenged authority constantly, batted his lashes and occasionally outright flirted. Calling Price a hot piece o’ meat.

He loved to see how far he could push it, even in meetings. And today he was pushing it too far, constantly bringing up counter points to Price's statements, which yes they were good points, but he was deliberately making sure to do it bratily.

He was grinning and being disrespectful every second of the meeting. When he once again spoke over Price with a “Nu uh sir, ye wrong” In a sing songy tone, Price had had it.

“Right Mactavish, that is fucking enough! You have been nothing but a disrespectful brat every second and I have had it!” He snapped standing up and storming over, grabbing Soap by the collar.

“My office. Now. Riley, you run the meeting you know the gist. Come on, Mactavish” He growled, tugging the Sergeant by his collar down the hall as Soap panicked slightly, having never seen Price snap.

“Aye sir… uh was jus’ a bit o’ teasing yeah? Ay'm sorry.. Ay…. I’ll stop, ‘Kay?” He stammered as price dragged him.

But Price just dragged him into the office, practically tossing him as he slammed the door. “No. You shut your bloody face and listen to me MacTavish.” The Scots mouth shut with an audible click, as he stared wide eyed.

“What made you think you could do that huh?! What makes you think you can repeatedly rudely interrupt me for absolute bullshit? Well news flash, Mactavish I am still your fucking captain!”

Soap opened his mouth then closed it again, unable to come up with words to defend himself. Price growled grabbing Soap by the collar, ready to continue tearing into him, but paused at the slight moan that left his lips as the collar was yanked.

Price blinked, then blinked again, glancing down the Scots body, spotting the prominent bulge. It seemed perhaps Soap wasn't just teasing, but actually wanted something out of it. And enjoyed being put in his place.

A smirk crossed his face, this he could work with. If Soap needed to be put in his place to get him to behave, price could put him in his place. “On your knees.”

Soap blanched at him, clearly baffled “Sorry what?”

Price pushed his knee into Soaps hard cock. “You need to be put in your place right? Get on your knees, now”

Soap was unable to bite back the moan that spilled from his lips as he knelt, looking up, eagerly, at his captain through his lashes.

“Please sir” He whimpered.Price grabbed the others chin, titling his head up, before pulling out his dick and Soap leapt on it, licking and sucking with feavor.

Price groaned softly, tugging the others hair to pull him off, before lifting him up and placing him on the desk. “Stay” He order receiving a quick nod as he turned to his drawers.

Sure he wanted to teach soap a lesson, be a bit rough and commanding, but he never could bring himself to be too rough. The idea of taking soap no lube, unstretched and the pain it would cause the scot was far from arousing to him.

He wanted to make soap squirm and submit, but not hurt him. Especially considering this was horribly under negotiated and he really had no clue of boundaries, best to grab his lube.

And hopefully Soap would be too well fucked to question why price had lube in his office drawer.

He yanked the pants of the scot, who was turning pink, down. Waited a few seconds to ensure there was no protest or being told to stop, before snapping the cap open and spreading a small amount of lube on his fingers.

He pressed them past the tight ring of muscle, not really intending to open the other up, but just checking that he was lax enough that Price would burn but not seriously hurt him.

He pulled out earning a whine from Soap, so he pinched the soft white thigh Infront of him, as he bent Soap backwards, hooking the sergeants knees over his shoulders.

The string of begging caught him off guard “Oh fuck oh fuck please please please price. God please sir. I- I'll be good. Please” And how could price deny such a sweet request?

He smeared a bit of lube on his dick before pushing in hard in one go and setting a punishing pace, pulling back and slamming in hard.

Soap was a half moaning half sobbing mess. The only coherent words he was spitting was please and fuck.

Price hadn't thought it would be as arousing as it was to him, but fuck he was so far gone, so string tight already.

He pulled out quickly, cumming across Soaps stomach, and he was pretty sure the scot came too.

Price leaned against his desk catching his breath, gently carding a hand through the Scots hair, soothing him.

[spenglersweetheart]

I have idea

Egon isn’t one for falling in love easily in his mind there has to be a bond, friendship bond, trust etc, what if one day after a mission with reader ( rookie ) he helps them with the filing of the samples collected and they crack a really good science joke and before he can stop himself he snort laughs.

Ever since whenever Egons in a bad mood reader tells a science joke

oh, this is actually so cute !! i love it 🥹

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

Anything to Make You Smile

Egon Spengler x Reader

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU DIDN'T MIND FILING THE SAMPLES WITH Egon. In fact, you much preferred it over making the bust. Though, that part was always fun, too. You had gotten along with all your new coworkers. Well, at least, almost all of them. Egon Spengler was a hard one to crack. The others told you about his seriousness. Which you didn't mind, it's what helps him stay dedicated to his work, and you honestly admired that.

When you guys came back from the most recent job, you and Egon pretty much immediately rushed over to the laboratory so you two can start with the samples. It was honestly your favorite part of the day. But, you noticed that something was off about Egon.

You knew he wasn't the one for emotions, as they are not really easy for him. But you wanted to get close to him. It may be because you were starting to gain somewhat of a little crush on him. But ... No one needed to know that. Not just yet, at least. Today, though, he was a bit off. He's not known to be a talker. Maybe that was just around you, but he looked a little more sad than usual.

You walk over to him when you file one of your last samples. You watch him carefully, before looking up at him to speak.

"You okay?" You finally get the courage to ask.

He only gives you a hum of approval, which wasn't really normal for him. It makes you raise a brow in interest.

He starts to walk away, you immediately follow right after him like you're some lost puppy. You tried not to make a habit of that, as it could possibly annoy him. You thought for a moment, before an idea finally pops into your head.

"Hey, Egon, did you hear about the chemist who threw sodium chloride at his taxi driver?" You question.

Egon rose a brow in interest and in slight concern. "I have not," he answered, "Are they okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, they're alright. The police caught the guy. They ruled it as a salt."

Egon looks at you, a chuckle falling from his lips, it eventually turns into a laugh, letting out a snort. Seeing him like that makes you smile wide.

"How did you come up with that so quickly?" Egon asked.

You gave a shrug. "I dunno. I always had a knack for science related jokes," you answer, "I've got a ton of other ones if you want them."

"If you're sure," Egon says, "I could use another one."

"Alright, so a neutron walks into a bar, right?"

Egon gives a nod. "Yeah?"

"He asks how much for a beer. The bartender replied, 'For you? No charge.'"

It's another corny science joke that makes Egon laugh. You were happy that someone appreciated your science related jokes like you did.

"I saw you were feeling a little down. I just wanted to see you smile for a change," you tell him.

"Well, it certainly worked," Egon responds, "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. Anything to make you smile," you say back to him.

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

── ♡ ( AUTHOR'S NOTE! ) :

not my best work i don't think bc i am Tired™ but i really hope you like it! i tried my best.

[notreallyzofi]

I have to say this on here because i know you fellow unhinged people won't (and can't) judge me for still thinking about this. But I was doing some deep diving into Silverstone 2022 (it's really more shallow diving, there's not a lot). And there's this gif, by countingstars-17, of max and charles's conversation (which is apparently now kind of lost media because ig the vid was taken down and can't be found anywhere except for those gifs).

Obviously when it surfaced, everyone was trying to figure out what Max was saying, but imo not hard enough because most settled on "What? No way," as the answer.

The "what?" is so animated it's indisputable, but look on this third part of the gif set. That's not an exclamation, it's not a statement, it's clearly a question with how he raises his eyebrows, and with that slight headshake/twitch is also a sign that it's a question. Another problem I have with this is that Max mouthes something (not really enunnciated) before the alleged "no".

So here's a hypothesis: Max is saying "are you okay?". And a fact I've tested: "you okay?" and "no way" are virtually indistinguishable unless you enunciate them very properly. Which, for the most part, people say more of a "youkay?" because the vowels blends together.

So my conclusion here is: we'll never know what he said but i've looked at this GIF for long minutes and I think I'm right. Look at that man's facial expression and tell me he's not asking a question. C'mon. Also I just think "No way!" is moreso a shocked thing to say while in this gif the man looks (at least a little) concerned to me.

I could be wrong, though, I dunno. Is this stupid? I mean writing this long of a post over something that ultimately does not matter is for sure stupid, but damn it, I kinda think I'm right and I want some other opinions.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — tutoring

Pairing: james potter x fem!loner!reader

Summary: james potter is failing potions and you seem to be his only saving grace

Warnings: nothing tbh, i may have based reader off of me a little too much so i apologize for that in advance 😭, also this is kinda all over the place but i hit a writers block and thought this was cute

james potter sat boredly in professor slughorn's office, counting the brinks on the ceiling of the dungeon. he had been waiting for at least fifteen minutes and if he waited one more second in silence, his head would explode.

slughorn, within the next minute, finally entered the office—clearing his throat and sitting in front of james with an air of seriousness. james sat up straighter, waiting for the professor to begin speaking.

"mister potter, we need to seriously talk about your grades in this class," slughorn began. he opened his desk and pulled out many of james' half-assed essays, most of them marked with d's and p's. james groaned quietly, throwing his head back.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were doing it on purpose. but i know you, mister potter," slughorn continued, "i know you've always had a rocky relationship with this subject. what's been going on lately?"

james frowned. "i can't focus, okay? it's like trying to sit through a lesson in the middle of a quidditch match, i'm too...i dunno, distracted?"

slughorn nodded. "i see... have you talk to your parents about this?"

"no, and you can't tell them," james rushed out. "i don't want to worry them, they worry easily,"

slughorn sighed, covering his mouth as he reviewed all of james' essays. he thought for a moment, which only piqued james' curiosity. slughorn glanced between him and the essays, before leaning back in his chair.

"i can arrange you a tutor, one that can help you with this problem..." slughorn finally said. james lit up, hoping and praying it was who he thought it was.

"lily evans?" he asked hopefully.

"no," slughorn replied. james lost slight interest, but nodded anyway. "and if i arrange this for you, i want you to take this seriously..do you understand, mister potter? or else i'll be forced to tell your parents,"

james nodded in agreement. "of course, sir, thank you,"

if james potter was anything, he was respectful. his mother had taught him that much.

"if i may ask, sir, if it's not lily evans—who is it?" he asked curiously.

slughorn smiled warmly. "i'll let you know soon,"

——

you tapped your foot anxiously, glancing at your watch with a frown. you didn't necessarily have anywhere to be, but it sure irked you when someone was late. not to mention, you definitely felt you should've said no when slughorn approached you.

but you were ever the people pleaser.

as you turned to throw your stuff in your bag, you suddenly saw a tall, lean boy throw himself into the seat in front of you. you stopped your actions, looking at the boy in front of you with slightly furrowed eyebrows as he breathed heavily and looked disheveled.

"you're five minutes late," you commented, scanning him over as he tried to adjust himself comfortably.

"i know, i know," james sighed. "i apologize, really, i had no idea how long that other thing would take,"

you tried to be a hard ass, but the boy seemed tired as it was so you softened up a bit. you softened your expression, but not too much that he'd notice, and nodded. "i understand,"

he looked at you shocked, but you ignored his gaze as you pulled out your textbook. additionally, you pulled out a spare parchment and your secret weapon. he did the same, except he pulled out a quill instead of a spare piece of parchment.

"slughorn told me your problems. i understand," you continued. he scoffed.

"you're the smartest in our year, how could you possibly understand?" james asked.

you blinked at him. "because, i happen to have the same problem. now, i'm not sure if you have trouble focusing in general or if you just suck at potions, what i do know is that i can help—unless you don't want me to and slughorn will be forced to tell your parents..."

james looked at you in disbelief. "he told you?!"

madam pince shushed him from the other side of the library and he sunk slightly in his chair. you nodded, keeping your gaze on him.

"he did, to let me know how high the stakes were for you," you replied. suddenly you placed two metal marbles on the table in front of james, to which he raised his eyebrows at. he glanced between you and the marbles confused.

you nodded toward the marbles, "well? pick them up..."

he reluctantly picked them up, watching you as you pulled out your own set. you opened your textbook and his to the same pages, before looking at him again.

"this won't fix the problem," you explained, "but it may help. your problem is lack of concentration right? you feel like you have to be moving while sitting in that chair, like you cannot keep your mind on one thing?"

james stared at you and nodded. he had never heard someone describe it well for him, and he wasn't much a man of words so to speak. "yeah, sorta like that, i suppose,"

you nodded. "good, we may be dealing with the same problem then," you picked up your set of the metal marbles and began moving them in that hand. they clinked together and made a satisfying sound as you kept going with the motion in your hand. "do what i'm doing and hold that same hand under the table—but do not stop moving your hand and the marbles,"

he obliged, following your exact instructions. thankfully, the noise wasn't so loud that it distracted anyone else in the library—it wasn't so much as noticeable to others either.

"now, we'll read the textbook, do some notes, i'll help you write your essay and we'll see if it's easier for you, sound good?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, sounds great," james replied quickly, a small smile blooming on his face. you didn't seem so amused, but to be fair, james wasn't sure he'd ever seen you amused.

"great! any questions?" you asked, before you started.

he nodded. "yeah, sorta. why did you agree to help me?"

it wasn't necessarily an out of the blue question. for as long as you and james had known each other (and that was used lightly), he'd never really seen you around anybody. you avoided people it seemed. you seemed to find comfort in solitude, always studying alone, eating alone, walking alone—not that you ever seemed upset about it. sure, you had friends here and there, but no one permanent. you never seemed to care much for it, you came here for academics, that's all it seemed.

moreover, he'd never really seen you display big bouts of emotion. maybe a smile or chuckle here or there, but rarely. he'd never seen you cry or laugh aloud, he'd never seen you do a lot of things. maybe you did, maybe he just didn't pay attention enough. nonetheless, he was a bit curious. you seemed to avoid everyone, him especially.

you knew the question was coming. you knew why too. it was because you weren't very social and you were often irritated. you never hung around anyone and you certainly never joined parties or quidditch games. it was difficult for you, you struggled with showing emotions and socializing with others. you couldn't control it and you certainly couldn't help it, and no one really seemed to stick around to figure you out. but that was fine, you supposed anyway.

it certainly was not fine, despite trying to convince yourself. it was a lonely way to live and your family was worried, despite them not admitting it. you just buried the lonely feelings, hoping that maybe it'd change one day.

"how do you mean?" you asked. what if you were just a nice person? would he even accept that answer?

"i mean, what's in it for you? surely you have better things to do than tutor me," james quickly said, likely thinking carefully about what he was saying because truthfully, you both knew that no, in fact, you didn't.

"nothings in it for me," you replied, shaking your head. "i just decided to help, i guess. is there something wrong with that?"

you weren't trying to be hostile. you were genuinely curious.

"no," he replied. "there isn't,"

"good, now let's start," you said, offering a small smile.

——

weeks had passed, tutoring session after tutoring session passed by quickly. you and james met on tuesday afternoons and thursday afternoons. you began to enjoy his company, even if you knew he was being forced to attend. unbeknownst to you, he quite enjoyed the sessions as well, even looking forward to them each week.

you had both figured out how to best figure out james' lack of attention span in potions and he begun to get better grades, but nonetheless you both agreed to keep the tutoring sessions going—to 'keep his grades up'.

james sighed, closing his textbook and placing the metal marbles you had gifted him on the table. "can we take a break? if i read one more word, i'll throw up on the table," he whined.

"dramatic," you replied, "but okay, ten minutes,"

"you and i should get a snack, recharge our brains," james suggested cheekily, hoping you'd say yes.

"yeah, no thanks, i don't trust that stupid smile on your face," you replied.

"you'd think after all our time together that you’d trust me by now,” james sighed, shaking his head in feign disappointment. “so untrusting, n/n,”

“n/n?” you questioned.

“my nickname for you, you like it?” he grinned.

you chuckled, smiling as you rolled you eyes at him. “okay, whatever…”

james grinned, “oh! do i get points for making wednesday addams laugh?”

you dropped your smile and glared at him, rolling your eyes playfully again. he huffed, “geez…sorry…”

“go get your snack and then come back, we’ll pick out some other potion books for review, sound good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. he grinned again, nodding like an excited little kid. you snorted and waved him off, fighting and failing to hide your smile as he rushed out of the library.

within twenty minutes he was back, following you as you put books back and grabbed new ones. you and him were chatting quietly, as you walked down the aisles, mainly focusing your attention on the books you were looking for. however, you paid close attention to the subject, given it was a topic he brought up often: why you were so uptight about your studies.

“well, potter—“ you began sternly.

“hey, i gave you a nickname! where’s mine?” he asked with a dramatized frown. you rolled your eyes playfully, hiding your slight amusement.

“as i was saying, potter, i’m uptight because i like to be prepared. frankly, i hope you pass your o.w.l’s because given how unprepared you are, i am praying for the best,” you replied sarcastically, noticing as he smiled at your joke.

he always seemed to understand your jokes.

“our o.w.l’s aren’t for another eight months,” he replied, getting a book from a high shelf as you tried to reach it to no avail. he handed it to you.

“exactly! you need to study for them now! you need to prepare!” you replied, putting a book back as you spoke.

“you are so uptight,” he chuckled. “some things you just need to…go with the flow. expecting the unexpected is no fun,”

you turned suddenly, smacking a book to his chest, thinking he’d grab it before it hit him. you laughed aloud, covering your mouth to muffle it, and he smiled back mockingly.

“how’s that for expecting the unexpected?” you grinned.

“shove off, n/n,” he scoffed. “you’re so corny,”

“and prepared,” you added, swiftly turning around to keep walking.

unbeknownst to you, james smiled at you genuinely while you were turned, your genuine laugh echoing in his head. he’d certainly make more jokes just to hear it again.

——

“well, this is our last session before break,” you smiled. “think you’ll be able to handle life without me for two weeks?” you joked.

“i think i can manage,” he teased back. you rolled your eyes, allowing a smile to grow on your face.

he smiled, pulling some out of his school bag swiftly. “actually, i wanted to give you something before we left, to thank you and for christmas,” he said kindly.

you furrowed your eyebrows. “you didn’t have to get me anything, potter,”

he rolled his eyes. “i wanted to, alright? and now you have to accept it,” he smiled. he slid over the small box toward you. it was wrapped in cute christmas wrapping paper, tied with a sting into a small box.

you took it gingerly in your hands, opening it carefully. you carefully tore the wrapping off and opened the small navy blue box. as you opened it, you held back your gasp as you took in the sight.

it was a beautiful silver bracelet, with butterflies placed in between the chains. the stones that filled in the butterflies were a beautiful pink color and it shined beautifully.

“james…” you gaped. “i don’t know what to say, thank you..” you smiled, pulling it out of the box and handing it to him. “will you clip it on me?”

he nodded and obliged, taking notice to how your eyes never left the beautiful bracelet. you looked up at him, tension filling the air as you watched him slowly clipping the bracelet onto your wrist. he smiled as your eyes connected, and for a second, you felt your stomach get all jittery.

“i’ll mail you a gift, seriously, this is beautiful,” you smiled. “thank you..so so much,”

somehow, it was very easy to smile around james potter.

“you don’t have to mail me anything,” james replied.

“oh please let me,” you pleaded, “i’ll feel so bad if i don’t,”

he smiled, “fine, alright, if it’ll help you sleep better at night,”

you grinned excitedly and pulled out a piece of parchment so he could write his address for you. he did it quickly, handing it back to you promptly.

——

you hadn’t been quite sure what to gift a boy who had everything he’d ever wanted. sure, you could get him something quidditch related, but it didn’t seem personal enough. you had wanted to give him something meaningful and sentimental.

you racked your brain for hours, trying to find the perfect gift. eventually, you settled with new quidditch gloves but even then, that still felt impersonal. so, you had begun to think back to every interaction the two of you had shared and landed on the perfect addition to his quidditch gloves.

you wasn’t quite sure how you had landed on the subject but you two had, so you scoffed and leaned back in your chair.

“fine then, what’d be your wish come true?” you asked james.

“to see you make a different facial expression?” james suggested. you swatted his arm quickly, making him retract it. “ow! i’m serious! sorry, but talking to the same facial expression every tuesday and thursday is scary! it wouldn’t exactly wound me to see you smile every once in a while…”

a different facial expression.

you quickly grabbed the family polaroid and enlisted your sibling to help you take the perfect picture of you smiling. once you were satisfied, you packaged it with his other gift and wrote a little note, explaining both gifts to him.

and that left you where you were now, back in the library with james, studying out of your potions textbooks. you noticed him pull it out and open the page quickly, as he had stuck something in between the pages.

you looked at intensely, trying to figure out what it was. then you quickly recognized it.

“is that me?” you blurred before you could stop yourself.

james looked down at whatever you were looking at and blushed, though he hid it well. “yeah, one of my gifts remember? you remind me of potions class, so, i use it as a bookmark,” he replied casually.

unbeknownst to you, he just really loved staring at the photo. you had a beautiful smile and it was a shame you didn’t show it more often.

you smiled warmly. “oh okay…”

“lovely bookmark, isn’t it?” james smiled, admiring the photo. he hadn’t meant to flirt, but he wasn’t exactly regretting it.

you chuckled. “i suppose so…”

bonus;

“daddy, how’d you know you liked mommy?” you seven year-old daughter, alison, asked as you set dinner table. it was james’ turn to cook tonight, so he held your toddler on the counter by him as he pulled dinner out of the oven.

you and james glanced at each other, smiling at her innocent yet curious questions. you stood there, watching as james turned to your daughter with a smile.

“well… i remember when i saw your mommy laugh for the first time,” james said honestly. “i instantly fell in love, i knew i’d marry her some day… i wanted to hear her laugh for the rest of my life,”

alison smiled. “mommy, what about you? how did you know you liked daddy?”

“well,” you recounted, “i remember every time i spoke to him, i smiled all the time. i was so happy around him and i knew i’d always be happy around him,”

alison nodded, smiling. “that’s cute! i hope i will know when i like someone!”

you looked at james, smiling as he ruffled your daughters hair, and like always, you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him. you felt like everything in the world was okay.

you looked back at your daughter with a smile. “trust me, sweetness, you’ll know.”

[chaificss]

BFKFNKDNDK that fic with Daichi was SO CUTE, i would like to read one abt him but with that meme of the kid that calls the police to get help with math homework 🥰🥰🥰

𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚-𝘼𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 with 𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗮𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗶!

✎ Daichi receives an unexpected call from an equally unexpected caller. It endears him how this little guy seems to think that policemen are good teachers.

✎ warnings: none !! unless u're afraid of numbers then .........

✎ fluff, timeskip daichi interacting with a random kid lol, 802 words!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

It was a nice day out, birds chirping while a gentle breeze helped the trees sway. Daichi sat on his office chair, reading previous cases while he stayed alert for any emergency dials. It’s been a quiet day so far, but he hasn’t been one to slack off with anything that he does. When the telephone did ring, he’s quick to answer—expecting panicked storytelling or a crime report. 

“Sendai Police,” he said into the telephone. There’s a brief pause, and a kid answered. 

“I- I need some help!” The kid sounded a bit hurried, making him sit up a little straighter. 

“What’s the matter, kid?” He asked, keeping his voice calm. The last thing he wanted to do was startle him. 

“With my math,” 

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, adjusting his hold on the telephone and thinking, he must have heard wrong, right? The kid probably mispronounced ‘mouth’. It can’t be mathematics. He chuckled inwardly. 

“Sorry, with your mouth?” He smiled kindly, as if the kid sees him right now and he didn’t want to come off as intimidating. 

“No, with my math. I have to do it. Will you help me?” 

Now, Daichi definitely did not mishear. 

As unusual and as funny as all of this was, he still stood his ground, nodding. “Sure. Where do you live?” 

There’s some rustling on the other end, sounding like paper being picked up and some breathing on the microphone. “Um… I need help with math.”

Daichi blinked and stopped himself from chuckling out loud. “Yes, I heard you the first time. Where d’you live, though?” 

“No, I want you to talk to me on the phone.” He sounded as if he’s scared of the police officer visiting their house, which Daichi found funny. Then again, this whole exchange is already comedic enough. However, he cannot stay on the phone and provide assistance—he is a police officer, not a tutor (Suga, ahem, your assistance would be appreciated). 

“Ahh, I can’t do that. I can send someone to help you, though?” He suggested. 

A pause from the other end, then–“okay.” 

He faced his computer and typed away, a faint smile on his face. “Alright. What kind of math do you need help with?”

“I have… Take aways.”

“Oh, you have to do the take-aways, huh?” Daichi hummed, leaning back in his chair. There’s an affirmative from the child, which then prompted him to ask another question. Hmm, he might as well… “What’s the problem?”

“You have to help me with my math,” the kid repeated his answer from before. 

“Uh-huh. Tell me what the math is.” 

“Okay!” he paused. “Sixteen… take away eight, is what?”

Oh, he’s asking me for answers. He shook his head, amusement laced in his features. “You tell me. How much is it if you take eight away from sixteen?” 

“I dunno, one?” the kid sounded confused—Daichi could imagine him scratching his head and staring at his homework. 

“Nope. How old are you, kid?” He asked him, twirling a lone pen in his fingers. 

“I’m four!” 

“Four?!” This time, he couldn’t help the slight laugh that left him. How entertaining–a four-year-old getting ahold of the home phone and dialing the local police to help him with his homework. Really, he never would have imagined his line of work would be this funny. “Okay, tell me another problem. That one’s pretty tough,”

“Um…” The kid hummed. “Oh! Here’s one. What’s five take away five?”

“Five take away five… how much do you think that is?” He asked in return, at this point completely accepting his fate. 

Silence took over for a few beats, the kid thinking about his answer. “Five,” he confidently says. 

Daichi willed himself to keep it together. 

Until he had to mute himself when his—he’s assuming—mother called out from a distance. “Tomoya! What do you think you’re doing?!” 

He facepalmed himself, shoulders shaking from silent laughter. Even more so when this kid–Tomoya answered her—“The policeman is helping me with my math!” 

“What did I tell you about going on the phone?” His mother sounded pretty distressed. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You said if I need help, I call somebody…” the kid countered. 

“I didn’t mean the police, Tomoya.” Then, the line went dead. 

Again, silence surrounded him, but a lighthearted atmosphere now filled the space. Daichi chuckled to himself. You’re not in the wrong, kid. 

His friends and family were once worried about his job being too dangerous, and they weren’t wrong; he dealt with multiple criminals who weren’t afraid to hold weapons, but… these kinds of moments make up for those situations. He let a small smile rest on his lips as he went on with his shift, knowing he did the right decision in choosing his profession. 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

end notes. i am sososososososososososososo sorry this took like eight months, i unfortunately went into a writing hiatus bc of uni </3 hopefully, i will be able to write more often now !! i'm planning on reviving this blog lmao lmao anyway, thank you for making it this far ! please, drop more requests and i'll do my best to write them ^^

[panlight]

Probably a lame question, but the vegetarian vampires have an issue that the human eaters don't. Fur. When they're hunting and eating animals, fur must get in the way often. So much so that they accidentally eat it. If their bodies can only digest blood, does that mean every few years they have to go cat mode and hack up a hair ball? I can't imagine plucking the fur off an animal is efficient. Especially if they have to subdue the animal before hand or kill it, which would lead to a cold dinner. Dunno, just a random thought I had haha

For real. That's part of why the "happy fairy tale vampires" sort of falls apart for me. Because sure, they don't have to kill people, but they still kill animals and that's gotta be gross and messy. And I don't mind the gross and messy! Not at all! But like, just . . . acknowledge it?

I keep thinking of that bit in Breaking Dawn where Renesmee is out there in a white ruffle dress hunting and "loves to show off the size of her prey" like aww how cute but like that little girl is RIPPING INTO A LIVING CREATURE'S THROAT WITH HER TEETH. Fur and skin and muscle and sinew and it's GROSS. Just admit that it's gross, SM! Let your sparkling vampires have a little bit of horror, as a treat.

As an aside, I remember being SHOCKED that the shapeshifters would ever hunt in wolf form. Like why. Why would you do that when you could just go back to human form and eat literally anything else. I mean I guess if you were desperate enough, sure but . . . they are in full control of themselves, why would you take that messy, gruesome route when you don't have to? (And how does digestion of raw animal meat work when they switch back to their human form?)

Not sure about the hairballs but yeah, it seems like it would be fairly unpleasant and it's just . . . never a concern of Bella's. After her first hunt and first time visiting Charlie the whole blood diet thing is just never really a problem or issue or even slight inconvenience. Same with Renesmee just "don't bite Charlie but lol bite Jacob if you want" and that's it. They might as well not be vampiric at all. Whereas Edward's vampire nature generally and attraction to Bella's blood specifically was one of the central problems of the whole series.

[funeralprocession]

#4; this one's a little longer than the last couple have been, and expands on some of my personal hc stuff...

Nagito hadn't been particularly careful about how he handled people before - there was no point, they would definitely decide against him even if he'd been on his best behaviour. He was careful once, a long time ago. Maybe.

It wasn't comfortable, being stuck by himself, getting avoided… His record of identifying people similar to himself was also abysmal - another loser that couldn't possibly belong or get accepted--? Was he actually worse than he thought he was? He knew he was rotten and unlovable for a long time, there was no way it could have kept happening if he wasn't the problem--

"Hey!" A familiar voice interrupted Nagito's self-hating muddle. Nagito blinked, finding Kichi was standing before him with his head tilted, looking concerned. "I've been talking to you, you know!" Kichi sounded slightly hurt, "Wait, am I being... Boring?" "No, of course not," Nagito smiled faintly, "Sorry, I'll pay attention." "Nah, you look like you're getting tired," Kichi observed, "I mean, not like, in a bad way…" "I am," Nagito confirmed with a very slight nod.

It was that time of day - it was getting late, it was time to part ways for the night… It was time for the evening dispute, in other words.

"I still don't feel like going to my own room," Kichi whined, "I swear, there's something wrong with that place!" "Hmm? What's wrong with it?" "I dunno, just… Something's not right, I swear! I feel like I'm being watched in there? I think there's… Like, a demonic portal or something? I swear my room is conjuring up some kind of bad energy, and it isn't me causing it for once. Probably not me, anyway." Nagito chuckled and Kichi grinned mischievously.

The first few nights were the worst ones by far. Kichi was actually… Forceful. He'd almost seemed terrified..? Nagito had started bracing himself for the nightly one-sided argument shortly into his friendship with Kichi; it was as if Kichi was certain Nagito would refuse his presence, and wouldn't allow that without a showdown. Kichi had calmed down recently - most likely because Nagito had never attempted to push him away, but the fire wasn't totally extinguished - he still made up lies and excuses for why he couldn't be by himself.

"Do you wanna trade rooms for a night?" Nagito suggested coolly as Kichi pulled him down a little to fix his hair. "No!" Kichi responded quickly, "Why the hell would I wanna send my favourite servant into the demonic portal room, hello?" "…I'm your favourite?" "Well, yeah!" Kichi's tone sounded as if his response was an obvious one, incredulous but cheerful, "I wish you were strong enough to carry me around, but alas." "Sorry," Nagito chuckled softly, "We can both stay in your room if you want--" "Out of the question," Kichi asserted sternly, "Why are you wanting to go in my room so bad, Nagito? Do you have some kinda death wish?" "I might," Nagito shrugged passively and Kichi gently pulled him back up to a standing position, hooking his right arm around Nagito's left. "Why is it that the best servant I've ever had is the one that wants to die the most?" "Sounds like you might be unlucky," Nagito chuckled and promptly received a light swat on his shoulder. "Whatever!" Kichi loudly exclaimed, trying not to smile, "Bastard!"

They were the same, but different. They'd both been mocked and alienated for the longest time… Nagito simply accepted that he would never be loved or even liked, while Kichi pushed back even harder. Kichi still made movements toward 'interesting' individuals, pushed them until they ran away or snapped - which was funny (to him), knowing he'd made such a strong impression on them. Nagito would give up immediately, assumed he would be hated by anyone who had the misfortune of dealing with him… While Kichi controlled his rejections - that was how it felt, anyway. When they would abandon him, he'd caused it by being 'too much for them to deal with - they were boring'. It was easier to handle than trying to make friends earnestly and being unable to convince them to stay.

Nagito unlocked the door to his room, a glittering clover charm swinging on his keyring. Kichi grinned deviously as soon as it caught his eye - he was the one who'd gifted Nagito that charm, and it filled him with a disturbing amount of glee to see Nagito had kept it. He not only kept it, he put it on his keys! He didn't throw it into a drawer or toss it somewhere he might never find it again-- "What?" Nagito blinked at Kichi's peculiar expression, "You look kinda scary right now…" "Good!" Kichi cackled, "I feel like being around you too much is ruining my aura." "Huh?" "Y'know, people aren't scared of me so much anymore, I don't like that," Kichi whined, "I mean, I like you a bunch, but I need people to be scared of me. I want them to think I'm weird and scary." "Hmm," Nagito smiled faintly and lofted the door open with his shoulder, "Ouch." "This door still sticking?" Kichi huffed, "This place is such a dump!" "I think I just got unlucky," Nagito responded, rubbing his shoulder gingerly as they entered, "I don't think anyone else's doors stick." "This place is still a stupid dump!" Kichi insisted, closing the door harder than necessary, "If it wasn't, you wouldn't have gotten a sticky, dumpy door!" Nagito laughed and started to slip his jacket off of his shoulders; Kichi grabbed the jacket's lapels and held them in place. "Huh? Is something wrong?" "Let me," Kichi muttered softly, "Please. You hurt your shoulder." "It's not bad, I'll be ok--"

Kichi gently pulled Nagito down by his jacket lapels until they were face-to-face; Nagito blushed very faintly as he felt Kichi's breath on his cheek.

"I like your room more," Kichi confided, keeping his voice soft, "Because you're in it." "I would be your room if we stayed over there," Nagito offered, uncertain about whether this was a discussion Kichi actually wanted to have, or if it was leading up to something. "But you're not gonna leave YOUR room in the middle of the night," Kichi reasoned.

It made sense. Not that Nagito had believed all the absurd things Kichi had been claiming about his room before, all of his excuses for why he wouldn't stay in there alone, the 'demonic portal' was just one of many… But it made sense suddenly, not even Nagito could second-guess his understanding of what was being told to him at that time.

Kichi released his grip on the jacket's lapels and gently slid his arms around Nagito, beneath the garment, nuzzling his face against Nagito's chest. Nagito's shirt was so soft and smelled like him.

"I want your shirt," Kichi stated, his voice muffled against Nagito's body. "Uh…" "I wanna sleep in it," Kichi continued, "You can have it back tomorrow, but I'm wearing it to bed." "Ah, ok," Nagito smiled faintly. He wanted to discuss… 'Things.' He couldn't shake the feeling he was misunderstanding, that it was all temporary and Kichi would eventually get sick of being around him all the time, but it was late and he was tired. Kichi most likely was as well.

Kichi released Nagito from the firm snuggle and resumed slipping Nagito's jacket off. "You're like me, aren't you?" Nagito asked quietly, "I don't mean that in a bad way, sorry." "I dunno," Kichi grumbled bashfully, "I dunno what you're referring to…" "Never mind, sorry," Nagito smiled and removed his shirt once his jacket had been taken off, favouring his right shoulder, "Do you want me to adjust the thermostat?"

Kichi had started removing his own jacket, narrowing his eyes at Nagito at the suggestion, "What for?" "I keep the room a little warm… It seemed like it was bothering you, having it so hot in here?" "Don't touch it," Kichi commanded, "Leave it where it is!"

That response seemed disproportionate, to say the least. Nagito blinked and backed away from the thermostat mounted on the wall.

"Sorry," Kichi slumped his shoulders and hugged Nagito's shirt against himself, "Not mad at you... I don't wanna… Whatever…" Kichi stopped himself short of saying he didn't want to talk about it, because in all honesty he did, but there was no face-saving way to explain any of it.

Nagito approached and lifted Kichi's chin with his fingertips, "The guy who makes it his mission to get in everybody's way, doesn't wanna get in the way. Am I close?" "If you already figured it out, why were you letting me embarrass myself?" Kichi cackled and smacked Nagito on his left arm with his own shirt, "Wavy-haired bastard! What are you, a sadist or something?" Nagito grinned and pulled Kichi into a hug, which was incredibly foreign to him but it seemed like Kichi needed comforting at that moment. "You reek," Kichi complained, his voice muffled against Nagito once again. "Sorry--" "Stop trying to pull away from me!" Kichi commanded, wrestling Nagito down onto his own bed. "You said I reek--" "You do, but it's… You," Kichi admitted, apparently disliking how it was sounding, "Don't make me explain it, I don't even think science could figure it out."

There was a tense silence, Kichi perched on top of Nagito, straddling his hips… And Nagito lifted his own arm, smelling his armpit. "Stop that," Kichi cackled, "I was joking!" "Nah, I stink," Nagito smiled serenely, "I need a shower." "It's because you wear that damn jacket all the time." "I get cold without it," Nagito shrugged and crossed his arms over his stomach, "It is overly-warm though, that's true."

There was another brief silence, Nagito still smiling up at Kichi, who was suddenly getting increasingly nervous. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Kichi finally asked, "I mean, like… Not in a mean way, just…" "I have more shirts, you know," Nagito revealed, "Let me up and I'll get you one that doesn't--" "No!" Kichi interrupted forcefully, "I'm wearing this one, go to hell!" Nagito laughed out loud and Kichi grinned, suddenly leaning down and initiating a fiery kiss with his captive.

- - -

I'll probably come back to this? Nagito's narrator was speaking for most of this one, so I'll do another one that's more focused on Kichi's side of it.

[frozenjokes]

An Exercise In Wishful Thinking

a fic about HotGuy, and his pathetic little (MASSIVE) crush on an ordinary guy, an ordinary guy who kind of couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried.

Scar’s face smashed against the pavement, his visor splintering against his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as momentum carried him rolling forward, toppling like a ragdoll across the top of the small apartment building. He groaned, disoriented as he finally landed on his back, but CuteGuy’s boot against his stomach forcibly pushed the noise out, leaving Scar wheezing.

“You’re off your game today, HotGuy,” CuteGuy sneered, sharp teeth visible just below his mask, though it wasn’t a shocking thing, sharp teeth, practically everyone had some kind of fangs, and really, it was a bit boring; if Scar was meant to be intimidated, he certainly wasn’t, “Something the matter?” CuteGuy cut through his thoughts, which was rather rude, Scar wasn’t done thinking badly about him yet, but, “We all have bad days. How about you take a day off, get some rest, nap a bit, and leave me alone for once, hm?” Cuteguy pushed again against Scar’s stomach, using more force, enough to shove his entire body back. Scar was only aware of how close he was to the edge of the building when his head hung over the side, half limp. Hm. Not great.

Scar raised his hands, shaky from the strain, “Well, since you asked, I guess, yeah, I’m not really feeling too great. I dunno. It’s just hard to be adored and famous all the time, you know? Life’s starting to feel less like fun and more like business, brand deals, work, work, work. I just feel like I don’t have many friends, y’know? Real friends, god forbid, human friends. Hardly a human even lives in this dumb city anymore, too dangerous, too many assholes with wings enacting petty revenge on their landlords from like ten years ago. I-”

“Shut up, I don’t care.”

“You asked! And while we’re on the subject of things you did, I was minding my own business up here before you attacked me! You can’t tell me to leave you alone if you started it!” Scar would have said more, but CuteGuy pressed his boot harder into his stomach, almost stomping, just without the wind up.

“You were looking for me. Thought I’d just send you home on my terms before you decided to become a problem.”

Scar’s head lolled a bit more off the edge of the building, eyes squeezed shut, “I’m not always looking for trouble,” he wheezed, managing to open his eyes just in time to catch a sight of what he’d actually been looking for tonight, just a glance being enough to restore the air back into his lungs. Not tearing his eyes away, he pushed against CuteGuy’s leg, admittedly, a little pathetically, but his priorities were elsewhere, “Pause, pause. Off.”

“Pause?” CuteGuy squawked, bird-like as he tended to get when he was particularly surprised, “What do you mean pause, this isn’t a game you-” HotGuy gathered all the strength he had left tonight to grip CuteGuy’s boot, heaving up and unbalancing him while he was distracted, then rolling away and stumbling to his feet.

“I have to go! Emergency! We wrap this up tomorrow?” Scar hurried over to where he’d dropped his bow when CuteGuy ambushed him, then back to the building’s edge, bouncing in place on his andriod legs.

CuteGuy hissed, and Scar wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen CuteGuy’s feathers so puffed out; even the bits of his face that weren’t covered by a mask were beet-red, “You are not seriously just going to leave! I’m not done with you!” CuteGuy lunged forward, but Scar’s arrow was nocked just as fast, the shot just barely grazing one of CuteGuy’s wings as he awkwardly sidestepped to avoid it. Scar was over the edge before CuteGuy could recover, rolling as he hit the pavement, then running down the street.

The civilian didn’t seem to hear him coming, or any of the other commotion for that matter, clearly oblivious to the danger so close by. It was a good thing that CuteGuy had never been slighted by this particular civilian, or he’d surely be dead by now, walking so carelessly by himself by night. Thank goodness HotGuy was here!

“Cub! Cub!” Scar called, still running, but Cub did not respond, the wires of his earbuds dangling loosely from his ears. Ah. Classic. Cub was fiddling with his phone, brows furrowed as he held it up toward a street sign- taking a picture, maybe?

“Hello! Sir!” Scar called as he got closer, and mercifully, Cub seemed to hear, taking out one of his earbuds and turning around. “Hello!” Scar said again, feeling his heart flutter, though, now was not the time.

Cub looked a little nervous; reasonable, anyone might be intimidated by a superhero running their way. “Hey, man, what’s up?” ‘Man’ Oh, Scar adored how Cub addressed him, so casual, so familiar. It was exciting to be ‘man,’ like he was a friend, oh, could they be friends?

“Hello there! I thought I should warn you, there is a very angry supervillain out and about right now, so we should probably be running in the other direction!” Scar kept a light tone as not to frighten Cub, though the other’s demeanor hardly changed.

“Oh, which one?”

Scar couldn’t help but stumble over his feet and words in his surprise at that question, which was apparently more emotion than Cub felt at being told he could be dead in the next couple minutes if they weren’t careful (though, of course, Scar would never allow this to happen). “Uhm- CuteGuy.”

“CuteGuy..” Cub furrowed his brow in thought, a bit of a distractingly adorable look if Scar was being honest.. hm.. something was different about Cub’s face today. Actually, something was definitely off. Had he gotten a haircut? Scar jumped when Cub spoke again, “Don’t think I’ve wronged any short blonde avians in the past week. I tend to try not to, so I think I’ll be alright.” Cub kept walking. Scar gaped.

“I- well I- I mean CuteGuy doesn’t exactly like me very much, so we may still have a bit of a problem.” Scar had to jog to catch up, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

“Oh man, well, good luck then. Sorry ‘bout that,” Cub glanced back, and didn’t look entirely too thrilled to see Scar still following him, which, maybe that was fair. Though, Cub never looked too incredibly thrilled about anything most of the time; Scar had only seen him smile once. It was a delightful thing, Cub’s smile, one Scar was sure he’d never forget. Like, come on, it’s not every day you see someone with flat teeth-

“Hey, could you read that street sign for me?”

Scar blinked, too stunned to do much else but follow Cub’s gaze, “Uh, that's Wright Street.”

“Thanks, man,” Cub said, and then he just kept walking, kept walking like there wasn’t a supervillain just a block away, probably seconds away from being very rude and interrupting all this chemistry!

“Cub,” Scar stressed, “I just think maybe-” but Scar stopped when Cub startled, whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Shit- I didn’t- I don’t have my glasses, I dropped them on the,” Cub floundered, and Scar threw up his hands in a placating motion, surprised by the sudden change. Cub squinted, looking a little distressed, and Scar wanted nothing more than to take it all away.

“It’s okay! I don’t mind reading the street signs!”

“I-” Cub struggled, and with him, Scar’s heart ached, “What’s your name, again?” Oh. Oh. Scar stopped short, stuck somewhere between shock and confusion. Was- Was he not in costume or something? Scar looked stupidly at his own clothes, dumbfounded. How bad was Cub’s eyesight?

“I’m HotGuy.”

Cub stared. Scar stared back.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Cub kept walking. Scar struggled to feel normal about that. Well, maybe he was just embarrassed! Everyone dealt with emotions in different ways, and Cub tended to deal with them by not emoting at all! Nothing wrong with that! Sure, they had only met twice, but Scar had been properly embarrassed not recognizing the faces of fans who had spoken with him before- he couldn’t imagine how Cub must be feeling now, especially with HotGuy being as recognizable as he was (even a little bit blurry).

“It’s nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all! My face is plastered just about everywhere, but I still look different in person I’m sure, and it's dark out, and you don’t have your glasses, of course.”

“Oh, not that, I was thinking of the CuteGuy thing,” Cub didn’t even look back as he spoke, not harsh per se, but extremely.. Honest. “Lots of people look kinda like you, all colorful and dressed up. I thought you might be cosplaying or something.”

Scar struggled to keep his smile, unable to do much else but stare. Cub wasn’t looking at him anyway. “..Do they now?”

“Yeah.” Cub continued on. Scar was beginning to suspect they did not live in the same city. Maybe not even in the same world. Cub was starting to get a little far, and once Scar remembered to stop gaping, he had to jog again to catch up. Cub seemed a little more confused by his presence, fiddling with his earbuds again (surely he hadn’t turned his music back on, right?) before turning, “You said CuteGuy was close, right? Are you going to.. fight.. him?”

“Oh!” Scar jumped on his toes, “No, probably not again. At least not right now, I hope. I’m guessing if he was going to he already would have- well, actually, I beat him so badly he’s probably still licking his wounds, like, metaphorically. I kind of embarrassed him, there was a crowd and everything.”

“A crowd?” Cub sounded surprised- no, amused when he turned his head. He had a little smile on his face, gosh, what Scar would give just to be able to look at that forever. “Just a block away, right? On this empty, quiet road?” Cub stopped walking, and Scar was so thrilled to have his attention, it took a couple extra moments to process the words he was saying.

“Ah-” Scar felt his face heat up. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to hide his embarrassment, “Small crowd. Quiet crowd. I mean, you know CuteGuy, if he feels slighted by anyone, he’ll probably get his friend Poultry Man to egg all their houses or something.”

“Oh yeah, petty guy.”

“Extremely so!” Scar lit up, though Cub still didn’t look like he believed a word Scar said. Scar pursed his lips momentarily before continuing, “You know, you could say my glasses are broken too! We’re like, totally on the same page right now. CuteGuy put up quite the fight, well, a little bit. He didn’t put up that much of a fight, but he did smash my visor. Again. Seriously, someone needs to figure out his identity so I can start sending him my bills, I hate replacing stuff.”

Cub cocked his head to the side, and even without the glasses, Scar felt like he was looking right through him. It was vulnerable, in a magical kind of way. “Can I see it?”

Scar startled, missing the question. “What?”

“Can I see your visor? The place I work manufactures this kind of stuff, I might be able to hook you up for something a bit cheaper.”

“I-I can’t just take off my visor, Cub, you’d see my face. Secret identities, you know how it is.”

“I can’t see anything right now. If it makes you uncomfortable, you could just cover your face with your hands or turn around. Doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not going to steal a look; I couldn’t care less about superhero stuff. It’d be nice if you came by, bought something, then let my manager know who referred you though.”

“I- ah- Well of course! But I-” shouldn’t, was the word he meant to say, and couldn’t would have been even more accurate. Scar could not take off his visor, no matter how many cracks it had. It would be completely irresponsible! And for all he knew, CuteGuy was still around- everyone knew avians had impeccable eyesight. But on the other hand… Cub, Cub removing his visor. His hands in Scar’s hair, undoing the mask, gentle and kind and not sharp, goodness, someone without claws touching his face, peeling back the mask and (not really) seeing him. Scar felt himself melt into that non-existent touch. “Be my guest, then.” He closed his eyes. … He opened his eyes. Cub was staring at him.

“Are you going to take it off?”

“Ah-” Again, Scar felt his face heat up, and suddenly, he wanted much less to remove his visor, “Sorry, just nervous! Never done this before, haha!”

“I can cover my eyes if you-”

“Yes. Do that.” Scar nearly hissed, struggling to contain his own embarrassment. Cub didn’t hesitate, his expression almost crushingly neutral as he closed his eyes, then turned around. Scar bit his lip. The mask wasn’t easy to remove- it was important it stayed on during a fight, so despite doing this thousands of times, Scar still had to fiddle with it to get it off, practically shoving the thing into Cub’s arms so he could properly cover his face, feeling stupid as he cowered with his hands over his eyes. If Cub was paying him any mind, he didn’t know.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Cub mused, “It’s only the screen that’s shattered; the frame is a little beaten up, but still sturdy. Shouldn’t need replacing, but I guess you’d know better than I would. You want another orange one? Come by after 12:00 tomorrow and I’ll have it ready for you to pick up?” Scar felt the mask bump against his hands, and when he snuck a peek through his fingers, he saw Cub’s eyes were firmly shut. The gesture, benign as it was, made his heart flutter.

“Blue works too. As long as it matches.” Scar took the mask, quickly refastening it to his face. God that was stupid. Why had he done that. He already had suppliers, why did his brain have to be so dumb? “Thanks,” he choked out, “It’s back on.”

Cub opened his eyes, though they didn’t focus much; damn, he really must have awful eyesight- whatever. Fine. But he’d get to see Cub again! He’d have a real excuse, oh, maybe this was worth it. Wait a minute!

“Could I get your number?” Scar felt himself blurt out the words, flustered enough for the extra bit of awkwardness to embarrass him further, “For- ah- directions.” He tried to smile. Cub might have smiled back in his own way; which is to say, not actually smiling at all or making any sort of expression that might ease Scar’s nerves.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if I gave you the address?” Genuine. Honest. Fucking brutal.

Scar pursed his lips, an expression Cub almost certainly didn’t see. “Yup. Probably.” Hopefully, tomorrow Cub would have another pair of glasses, so at the very least if he wasn’t persuaded by an extraordinarily attractive man desperately vying for his attention, he might just take pity on him. Though this didn’t quite feel like rejection, more just misunderstanding- Scar still had a chance here. Cub gave him the address and Scar wrote it down, still unable to squash the lingering disappointment as Cub, entirely unconcerned, waved goodbye, beginning his walk in the other direction.

But just as Scar turned around, “Wait!” and just like that, he had never stopped so quickly, spinning right back around to face Cub, who had also stopped. “Sorry, I just forgot, I wanted to get a picture-”

“A picture!” Scar cut him off accidentally, excitement taking over, “Why of course! I’d love to!” Scar trotted over, and Cub looked a bit put off, but no matter! Scar was great at taking pictures. Maybe once he managed to get Cub’s number, Cub could send it to him!

Cub shifted his weight, clearly a bit nervous, but that was nothing new. Honestly, it felt incredibly normal, a welcome feeling, and Scar felt right at home bending to Cub’s level as the other fumbled with his phone, flashing a practiced grin. Cub did not smile in the picture, looking nothing less than bored- utterly bizarre, but to each their own! With any luck, they’d get to take many more pictures.

“Thanks,” Cub mumbled, somewhat sheepish, “This is like the third time I’ve met you, and my roommate still doesn’t believe me. Didn’t take my word for it the first time, didn’t believe the picture I took the second time, but now that I’m in this one, he’ll have no choice but admit it.” Cub ended the sentiment sounding deeply pleased with himself, and that.. well. That made a little more sense. That was fine though, Scar wasn’t deeply wounded or anything that Cub didn’t actually want a picture with him just to have it. All good. Normal feelings.

“Well, if they don’t believe you, I’ll march right over there and tell them myself,” Scar joked, somewhat halfheartedly, but Cub didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks. I’ll tell him that. Bye, HotGuy.” Cub waved, then kept walking, a look on his face that Scar hoped was contentment. Preferably, it’d be something like awe, admiration, or some amount of being utterly starstruck, but contentment would have to do. Hopefully next time, Cub would at least recognize him.

Part (all) of Scar hoped he and Cub would look back at the same time, catching each other’s eye in a moment of romantic tension, but after looking back several times, Scar was pretty sure Cub was just not looking in the first place, and then certain when he started to walk backwards to make sure. Cub didn’t turn around once.

That was fine. That was okay. Scar would win him over eventually- no- tomorrow. Tomorrow at noon, Scar would win him over. Cool! Great! Everything was cool and great. Up until, still walking backwards, he ran into someone else, a clawed hand wrapping firmly around his neck.

“It’s rude to leave a guy hanging, HotGuy, did you know? Or do you just not care. You don’t have to answer, I already know.”

“CuteGuy!” Scar half laughed, forcing as much energy into his tone as he could possibly manage, “It’s getting late, you know. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? You know, we’ve already fought tonight, and you bested me fair and square, so how about I give you a deal?”

CuteGuy’s talons tightened around Scar’s neck, the villain clicking his tongue, “I’ll humor you.”

“You won, you won, definitely not unfairly by ambushing me for zero reason, and I respect you CuteGuy, I respect you. So here’s the deal. You beat me, so tonight and tonight only, you do whatever you want, beat the piss out of whoever for whatever petty slight they committed against you like twenty years ago, and I’ll turn the other way. Won’t give you a single bit of grief! Like it never happened. A generous offer, CuteGuy, one I don’t extend to just anyone. An offer you can’t refuse, truly.”

CuteGuy hummed, and Scar felt his breath close to his ear. It took everything in him not to scoff, but CuteGuy didn’t keep him waiting long for an answer.

“You’re right. That is an offer I can’t refuse. You have a deal, HotGuy. You have a deal.”

“Great! So let's put the claws away then, shall we?”

“Mhm!” CuteGuy released his hold on Scar’s neck, and Scar rubbed it with his own hand, sighing at the pinpricks of blood. That grip would probably leave a mark tomorrow. Well, nothing a little makeup couldn't fix. But something clicked at his back, and Scar felt the absence of his bow right before he was kicked to the ground, yelping as he fell hard to his knees.

“What-”

“Take a guess which idiot I have a vendetta against tonight, HotGuy?” CuteGuy played with Scar’s bow for a moment before tossing it carelessly in the other direction, and Scar was beginning to get a pretty good idea of exactly who CuteGuy was angry with.

…

“Look. See? It’s me and him, super close to our apartment.” Cub held up his phone so Grian could see it, the other taking it from Cub’s hands and examining the picture with so much scrutiny, he almost looked like he was glaring. Something sly crept up Grian’s face after a moment, and he pointed decisively at the photo, tapping the screen with a talon.

“Photoshopped.”

“What?”

“As much as you claim not to care about heroes and villains, you sure do seem awfully insistent on convincing me you’ve met HotGuy. What is this, three times now? Come on, Cub. This is getting sad.” Grian cackled as Cub gaped, giving his roommate a hard shove before snatching his phone back.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you! Especially when you’re this desperate!”

“I am not desperate. You’re either insane, or fucking with me. At this point, I’m pretty sure you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got some secret obsession with HotGuy. What gives? I thought we agreed we hated that guy; total arrogant piece of shit if you ask me. Complete idiot.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Cub! I can’t believe you!” Grian crossed his arms, turning away with a huff, but Cub only laughed, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, you can be nice and an idiot. Listen, I understand you’re jealous and all, but rest assured, he told me if you didn’t believe me this time, he’d march right up here and tell you himself. You’ll get all the HotGuy you’ve been missing out on.”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Have fun pretending, then. I’ll see him at work today, so I’ll make sure to let him know you’re just dying to see him.”

“You- you’re what?”

“Yup. He broke his visor, or CuteGuy did at least. Told him I’d get him a new one if he put in a good word with my manager. You know she loves that guy.”

“I-You-” Cub wasn’t exactly sure what the expressions flashing across Grian’s face meant, but he managed to stop spluttering for long enough to say, “You are not allowed to make friends with HotGuy.”

“Uh, sure, I don’t think it’ll be hard. Don’t think he’s short on friends.”

Again, an odd expression crossed Grian’s face, but Cub dismissed it as one of Grian’s Moments; which is to say, exactly what he was in therapy for. To get a handle on the anger, reduce the frequency of flare ups at odd times, all that jazz. For now, best to change the subject.

“See any cool stars while you were out last night? It was pretty cloudy, so I didn’t really get much on the walk home.”

“Oh, right,” Grian relaxed, looking momentarily embarrassed, but the rest of their conversation was pleasant, Cub smoothing out the feathers on Grian’s wings so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Lots of things tended to set him off, and embarrassment about getting worked up was a big contributor. Best to let him know he didn't have anything to feel bad about, not around Cub.

[66sharkteeth]

more thoughts (positive for a change)

sorry to keep treating this like a personal journal when most of you are here for CoB content but it remains the 1 place where i feel semi-safe talking about things w/o blasting them to 10k+ people while also having more than 0 people listening

but just feeling a little hopeful for once! i got invited to speak on my 2nd ever panel today. it looks like it's a small convention and it's far too early to know if it'll actually pan out (not even responding today bc im trying to be more strict about giving myself wednesdays off), but it's still just...really cool that i'm actually being recognized as a professional and invited to things.

i still think so much about how when i was like.....12....or something, we had to do one of those like...dream life assignments. and i remember exactly what i said- i wanted to be a mangaka in japan with a studio apartment (yes, i was a very cringy kid. i called my friends -chan and -kun too). then i got older and more realistic. realized i could do art, but never my own project, and yeah, that's what i did for a long time.

yet... here i am now?!! granted, i never moved to japan (which i'm fine w/ lol) and it turns out studio apartments kinda suck and i much prefer a 1 bedroom...but i'm making a living off of that comic i came up w/ in middle school when had 0 concept of reality and how unlikely the chance to do that would be. and... i dunno! for a kind of rare moment, i feel like i can keep doing it (knock on wood)? if it's not obvious by now, i can get kinda doom and gloom about my future (and i wont even think about the industry as a whole w/ AI becoming more of a problem every day), but just for this moment i feel kinda optimistic?

i still have no idea what my future holds with webtoon. I have no idea when I'll have something ready to pitch again or if they'll even take it, but for once I feel like that uncertainty doesn't mean all or nothing. I kinda feel confident for once that even once CoB concludes on Webtoon, I can keep doing this to some capacity, whether that's through another series, physically printing CoB, somehow continuing CoB, I dunno yet. like i dunno. i think i'm just finally having this dawning realization that i am a professional? and other people see me as such? ik, probably a dumb thing to just now be realizing but blah blah, imposter syndrome or something, etc etc.

not sure where i'm going with this but just thank you guys for your support. if you're one of the like 100 people who actually follow me here, tbh you're probably one of my more dedicated readers, so thanks for being part of making this quite literal childhood fantasy dream come true. and shout out to the people actually inviting me to stuff on the super slight chance they actually follow me here. it seriously gave me kind of a reminder that oh yeah, i am a professional and good at this

[spidrgrl]

In contrast to the 3 favorite characters, which 3 characters you hate the most in homestuck.

Oh gyatt

Honorable mentions before my big three: Doc Scratch........ And Rose and Jade from HS^2 (HOMESTUCK TWO ONLY. I don't hate them otherwise)

Also, slight TW for stuff that's happened with Meenah. I don't go in depth but I still wanna warn, skip number 2 entirely if you're uncomfortable with reading about it!!!!!!!!

Well, drumroll please for a VERY big yap sesh!!!!!!!!

Number 3 is

Aradiabot.

Tbh I don't hate her THAT much anymore. It's just she's a lot easier to explain than my Honorable Mentions™. It's more of a hate for Hussie's bad writing.

As a character, she's perfect. Perfect perfect perfect. She's so badass that a lot of people in the Homestuck fandom can't really comprehend it, so they call her boring! I don't blame those people though. Her actions were cool, but she herself wasn't since she hardly had a personality or emotions, and that's wonderful for a robot character!

But as a replacement for a friend???????? No. Absolutely not. It's like having a corpse of someone close to you and reminding you of everything that you caused. And you know what? The corpse hardly speaks, because it's DEAD.

I hated her for the entire time she was near me, and now I only kinda resent her as a character and both as a replacement for Aradia. She could sense those emotions, but she didn't care. Never cared! She was only a vessel that held a troll, and she didn't care about that either. She only cared about doing what was programmed for her to do.

I knew she hated me at least a little. But besides punching me in the face, she didn't say anything. No closure, no anything, just a cold metal punch to the face to a girl that's already kicked down! I wouldn't blame her for it if it was Aradia, but Aradiabot had nothing behind that punch. She had more emotions for EQUIUS just because she was PROGRAMMED/WRITTEN TO BE.

This is one of the reasons why Hussie's writing pisses me off! He replaced a PERFECTLY GOOD TROLL with a ROBOT and hardly ever talked about her ever again unless if it was for like, one or two panels. One of the best characters had her reputation absolutely TRASHED and now everybody thinks she's boring just because of ARADIABOT taking her place.

She could've been a lot cooler for a girl that stole Aradia's identity and story, y'know? That's mainly where my resentment lies.

Thankfully, she's not at all as bad as my number 2, which is

Meenah.

I DESPISE her. Not in a pitch way, my god. I loathe her in a way that means I want her dead. I wish I never met her, seriously. One of the worst cases of my bad luck was meeting her.

I think you guys could understand why I hate her already, but that's not the ONLY reason why either. So here's a list chat

Literally WRITTEN to be only terrible and a gag. As a character, all she has going for her is shittiness and stolen swag from The Condesce. We don't even know WHY she is the way she is, hardly any detail is given to backstory unlike me and my friends, so all readers know about her is that she's a trashy creep with a cool design and a want for money and power.

Has the same problem pretty much all of the dancestors do! Having a cool design and theme but they're two dimensional, almost always sexual, and having weird relationships with trolls that are a GENERATION younger than them.

Another very clear display of Hussie's shitty writing and bad decision making. He completely TOSSED the idea of a good character when he made her.

The things she did to me.

The things she did to Karkat.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT???????? SHE UNDERSTANDS THAT IT'S BAD. SHE VERY CLEARLY UNDERSTOOD WHAT SHE WAS DOING, IT'S THE ONLY TIME THAT THIS TYPE OF TOPIC IS NOT IN A JOKING LIGHT.

Oh, but that's not all!!!!!!!! For some reason, the GENIUSES for HS^2/Homestuck Beyond Canon decided, hey, let's KEEP THE CREEP and have her in a MATESPIRIT RELATIONSHIP with, oh I dunno, ONE OF THE TROLL KIDS SHE MET WHEN THEY WERE 6 SWEEPS (13 YEARS) OLD and she was 9 SWEEPS (19 YEARS) OLD. Yeah, that's so smart guys, bravo, you guys are really fixing up the dumpster fire that is Hussie's writing with some fuel. /j /sarc

Plus not to mention the fact that basically ALL proshippers in the Homestuck fandom crowd around her and romanticize what she did. Especially what she did to me. Like her whole existence endangers me even now. Yeah guys, let's NOT ship an abuser x victim.

Cry harder mf you know what you did. Scott Pilgrim ahh

Anyways, despite how much I wish Meenah never existed, you wanna know who I somehow hate more than her? My number 1 is

Hussie.

Andrew Hussie. The Huss.

Look, I do applaud him for making Homestuck. But I also punch him in the face for making Homestuck. Man, he should've given the story to Toby Fox or something, just ANYBODY but him.

No Hussie. Not like that. Stop producing new updates for HS^2, they CLEARLY got their writing skills from you.

And also, added to your terrible writing, why in the FUHREAK did you propose to your own character when she was a minor. Then also whine about getting rejected to another one of your characters (Cronus). Not to mention you actually sat at your desk and wrote the entire thing.

Like ew

Anyways, this EVEN BIGGER yap sesh is done!!!!!!!! Ty for asking anon

P.S.: if you're an introject of anybody on this list, I don't hate you specifically. If you want we can yap about source (except Meenah, I don't blame you for source but I wouldn't be able to talk with you, sorry)!

[transmasc-wizard]

snippet sunday again !

i'm juuust in here on time,,,,, here's arthur crashing in on alexei's weird alone time at the church that he's involved in for reasons relating to Creepy Priest Bitch, Erastus. yippee

-

“What do you need, Arthur?”

Arthur shrugged. “You didn’t come to class today.”

Alexei glanced at the clock. School had just ended. “Yeah. That’s not uncommon.”

“I know,” Arthur replied. “That’s the problem. I feel like you’re barely there anymore.” He hesitated. “Are you just… here?”

Alexei grabbed a box full of syringes. He didn’t like that there was a box full of syringes down here, quite honestly. “Not usually.” He grabbed some heavy-duty tape, ripping off a long strip with his teeth. Through the slight taste of tape gunk, he added, “Mostly just Fridays.” He taped the syringe box closed and scribbled out the label, hoping to give Erastus a shittier afternoon the next time he needed any.

Arthur frowned, crossing his arms. “Where else do you go?”

“Work.” Alexei shoved the box behind two others.

“You have a job?”

“Yes,” Alexei replied indignantly. (He knew full well he had never said nor hinted to Arthur that that was the case.)

“See, this is what I mean,” Arthur said with a sigh. “I’d probably know this if you were ever at school.”

“Why do you care if I’m at school?” Alexei started poking around in another box, mostly just to mess with things.

“One: I’m bored,” Arthur replied. He came closer, peering into the same box. “Two: you’re not going to graduate at this rate.” Alexei could hear genuine concern creeping into Arthur’s voice. It made him pissy.

“I’ll be fine,” Alexei mumbled. “I honestly think Erastus will get my grades changed if they’re that bad. And if he doesn’t… I dunno. I don’t need a diploma.” He looked back at Bess, who seemed both annoyed and uncomfortable. “You can go back to your date. Don’t worry about me. I’m always fine.”

“Are you sick?” Arthur replied. Alexei threw a small box at him in response. “Hey! I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried.” Alexei was out of boxes to deal with, which meant he had to look at Arthur properly. Unfortunate. “You wring your hands with a finesse matched only by grandmothers. Go away.” A little more acid was in the final sentence than he meant there to be.