#gets so old and annoying bc it's done again and again and again while other characters have to actually suffer consequences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanatomis · 1 month

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⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.”

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him?

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand.

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces.

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.”

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind.

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.”

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem.

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today.

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school.

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day.

“I need you to come to my school next week.”

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant.

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either.

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—”

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure. “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.”

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense.

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.”

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly.

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over.

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.”

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either.

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end.

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes.

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him.

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat.

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him.

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it.

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room.

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy. “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?”

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.”

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost.

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.”

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted.

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled.

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.”

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel.

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them.

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew.

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it’s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

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#ꕤ — sanatomis darling: fushiguro megumi #ꕤ — sanatomis darling: gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x platonic!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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audhd-nightwing · 2 years

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okay i cannot shut up about them

steve being the one average intelligence friend among fucking geniuses (most of which are like fucking 13 year olds / all of which are younger than him) must be so damaging to his self esteem

because he’s only surrounded by child prodigies, a literal genius that’s fluent in several languages, and (probably the valedictorian if she wanted to be) a badass genius journalist, he has no example of what average intelligence is and just assumes he is stupid

which is not helped by the fact that everyone looks down on him/calls him an idiot/expects him to know everything!! so they just enforce this belief that he’s stupid and less than just because he’s not as intelligent as the rest of them

and then along comes eddie munson who failed senior year twice, yet is an amazing storyteller and genius DM, who knows about all these cool things and guess what? dustin looks up to him!

and steve knows dustin isn’t replacing him but dustin thinking he was cool was one of the only things holding his facade together

and then robin is only thinking about vickie and of course steve wants to help and he listens and gives advice, but robin was the only one who was around, who hung out with him, who listened

and max is isolating herself, and lucas has basketball and hellfire, and he doesn’t think nancy would ever want to be friends, so it’s. just him.

and then

and THEN

steve is walking through the upside down with eddie munson, and eddie references something he doesn’t get, and steve expresses his confusion and is prepared to be made fun of- but eddie just. tells him? explains it to him?

and it catches him off guard because no one has done that before, even as King Steve carol would roll her eyes and tommy would laugh whenever he asked them something. whenever he asked questions in class (which was rarely) the teachers told him he should’ve been paying attention but he was- he just didn’t get it

so steve tests it again later on and the same thing happens- even in front of the others, when steve asks a question eddie just tells him without poking fun and it’s… it’s really nice actually

once vecna is defeated and everyone survives (bc fuck you) steve continues to badger eddie with questions, looks to him whenever he doesn’t understand what’s going on and eddie will immediately explain it in a way he can understand

a while after they become good friends, steve just has to ask.

“does it get annoying?”

“…does what get annoying?”

“me asking you about stuff all the time”

but eddie just smiles at him, tells him how he actually loves that steve asks because it means he’s engaged and interested, when eddie is used to people getting bored of his rants/tirades

he tells steve that he loves explaining things to him, loves that he listens and pays attention and steve realizes oh, we’re kind of perfect for each other aren’t we?

he thinks he’s okay with that. especially if eddie keeps smiling at him and telling him about anything and everything he wants to

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #insecurity #dustin henderson #robin buckley #steveddie #steddie fluff #steve harrington whump #fluff and angst #forever pushing my autistic steve agenda so #autistic steve harrington #also #audhd eddie munson #cry about it

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blue-jisungs · 7 months

Text

purrfect escape

author's note. hello!!! this is my first work for opla and zoro so i hope you like it and you won’t eat me alive if you don’t teehee !! i feel like this is low-key shitty but who cares, it’s just for funsies ?! also i am very open minded to the idea of zoro reqs if there’s anyone crazy abt him too but remember to check the guidelines if you’re new on my profile!!! <3

also tagging @writingmeraki (hope u dont mind dear) bc u were the one who inspired me to start writing for opla hehe

summary. zoro doesn’t necessarily like you. but to his surprise, an improvised and unplanned escape plan makes him realise that… it may not be entirely true…?

the sun is warming your face pleasantly as you stroll around the market, the sweet smell of fresh fruits filling your nostrils. you hum and when your eyesight falls upon the stall with strawberries, you let out a gasp.

“let’s get them too!” you yelp in excitement and walk to the seller. zoro moves his feet lazily, hand still secured atop of his sword.

he didn’t understand why luffy sent you and him to get some food that sanji wanted. the damn waiter could’ve done so himself, he’d know what to choose.

but no. he’s here with your pretty self, sun prying his skin. he’d love a nap right now and not–

“here, try it! it’s so sweet, oh my…” you hum in delight and before he can protest, you’re shoving a fresh strawberry into his mouth.

zoro groans. it’s good, he’ll admit.

“do we need them?” his brows moved up, scanning you. you bit your lower lip in thought, causing his stomach to make a flip.

this strange feeling accompanied him for a while now. he always felt so… dizzy but in a pleasant way when he was with you. at first he thought he’s sick but he didn’t even have a high temperature.

the thing is, you’re cutely annoying. you talk a lot, you smile all the time, you like sweet things – literally. it pisses zoro off but then again, he feels all warm inside when he gets to hear your laugh.

“please?” you ask, pouting.

he shifts his hands, the groceries you made him carry making a rustling noise.

his brows furrow, there’s a long silence.

“fine” he groans, not entirely sure why he caved in.

so while you pay, he glares at the elderly sellsman who’s looking at you two strangely.

he recognised you.

“thank you so much! have a great–“ you start, the small basket of strawberries in your hands. zoro placed a hand on your shoulder and moved you further, urging you to walk “hey! i didn’t get to finish!”

“we need to go” he huffs and starts to look around to find a way back to going merry. which, at a crowded market and considering his skills, may be difficult.

“why?” you whine yet follow him obediently “there’s so much stuff i wanna see…”

you get your answer when the sound of coordinated and synchronised steps reaches your ears. marines.

“exactly” zoro scans your expression and his hand slips from your arm to your wrist. the hold is gentle though, almost as if afraid he’ll hurt you.

“the way out is the other way, i think” you announce and he stops suddenly, causing you to bump into his back. the sword’s handle meets with your forehead, causing you to groan “let me lead, you get lost way too easily”

he sighs but yet again today, gives in. you turn on your heel and start to lead him the way back, walking quickly through the various stands.

“they went that way!”

zoro is ready to grab his swords, noticing how the old man who sold you the strawberries is pointing at the place where you stood mere moments ago. the roofs of the stalls don’t do justice, you’re way too exposed.

“oh my god, a kitty!” you yelp and suddenly squat down, forgetting that zoro is holding onto you. if not his quick reflexes, he’d be facing the ground (literally)

“y/n, what are you–“ he hisses. another con of yours – getting distracted way too easily. especially by cute things.

“zoro, look! it’s so cute!” you whine and pet the small brown-furred feline. the cat is purring happily, naturally being pulled into your embrace “can we keep it?”

“no” zoro huffs, peeking from the stall you were squatting behind. the marines were still looking around

“why though? it’s so adorable! we would have another crewmate” a plea leaves your mouth, puppy eyes looking at him. zoro’s heart skips a beat and makes a somersault yet his face remains stone-cold, unbothered.

“no. we need to go and there’s no time for such…” his voice dies in his throat as the kitty brushed its head against your leg. the small tail cutely presses against your skin, the feline letting out the quietest meow possible.

“i love him so much, he’s adorable” you mumble, scratching its soft fur behind its ear “we’re gonna name him alfred–“

“we’re not naming this thing alfred. besides, we–“ he starts, interrupted by a sneeze out of the blue.

“is there a cat?”

you look at zoro with wide eyes, pure of shock and fear. the cat is still snuggling onto you, plopping into its back and showing its stomach – clearly requiring more scratches. while you continue eavesdroping, your hand gently grabs his and moves it to the cat’s belly.

zoro shots you an ‘annoyed’ stare but moves his fingers hesitantly nevertheless. the warmth of your touch spreads through his body.

“i’m allergic! we should go, i’ll be all swollen in no time! they’re not here, the old man maybe has some sight problems”

the green haired male shifts his gaze to you.

“are they gone?” you whisper, smiling softly at the cat.

“mhm” he hums, somewhat in disbelief.

“see? this was a purrfect escape plan!” you grin and you two begin to stand up. when getting no response, you chuckle nervously “get it? purr because the kitty–“

“i got it” zoro whispers, grabbing the groceries you made “let’s go”

“what about alfred?” you pout, looking at the kitty.

“there’s no living conditions on going merry for a cat, y/n” zoro says, sounding a bit apologetic.

you sigh and give the cat a last behind-ear scratch.

and zoro grunts, the weird warm feeling overflowing his body again. he can feel his stomach feeling a bit dizzy but in a pleasant way.

god, if he could he would give you every cat in the world if that meant seeing you so happy like moments ago.

masterlist <3

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wanderersbell · 1 year

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Hi can you write something for scara and his s/o growing old? Well scara can't age but his s/o can! I would prefer it to be kinda cute but also sad.

until death do us part

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst, hurt no comfort

warnings: major character death, very sad ending

word count: 2491

✧.* a/n: took me a while to get to this bc i kept crying thinking about it but here it is! i am so sorry in advance this is really sad, but enjoy!

nothing would make him regret getting to spend your life with you, not even the day he’d inevitably lose you.

no amount of wishing or praying would stop you from returning to the soil of the earth one day and becoming nothing but another memory. the wanderer knew that eventually, he’d lose you too. just like everyone else he had once loved, you were no exception to the passages of time that sow life and death within the fate of humanity.

the first time he met you, this thought passed through his mind in a fleeting whisper when your magnetic pull started to reel him in against his will. the soothing trill of your laughter and the kindness in your eyes reminded him so much of a time before pain was all he knew, that he could already picture the way the light would fade out of your eyes if he let his guard down and flew too close to the sun again.

but no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, every path he went down lead him right back to you in the end. you who insisted with utmost sincerity that he come over for tea since he so graciously helped your grandpa harvest crops the other week. you who would pour him a cup, strong and bitter just the way he liked it, and sit across from him to tell all of the wild stories and legends you heard from the elders in town growing up, never bothered in the slightest when he didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation.

you who slowly crept into every one of his thoughts until he could no longer fight the urge to see you, even though he truly did try to put up a fight. his feet would unconsciously bring him all the way to your doorstep after a long day, the only thing on his mind being the rush of warmth he gets whenever you look into his eyes and smile.

he remembers when you’d open the door to the sight of him with tousled hair and dirt streaked on his skin and pull him inside without a second thought. he’d lean against your kitchen counter as you dabbed a soft damp cloth against his skin, your touch gentle but steady. you’d frown all the while as you cleaned him up, shushing and chastising him for never being careful.

the wanderer was never actually hurt, and he could’ve easily dealt with the issue without so much as a scratch reaching him, but he loved the way you fussed over him. the stubborn crease between your brows, the jut of your lower lip, the brush of your featherlight fingertips—though nothing compared to the unfiltered and honest look of concern and worry in your eyes.

It had been a long, long time since someone had looked at him in such a way. him, just as he was, with no purpose or usefulness to hide behind. a part of him felt annoyed by your insistence to care for him, and by the fact that he allowed you to perceive him as weak. but the other, louder part of him craved and so deeply desired the way you made him feel like he mattered.

and even still, you would never pry. you’d never pester him about why he would show up in such a state in the first place. in the months you had known him, he hadn’t told you anything. not even his name. you knew him only as a wanderer with no destination, and for this he was thankful. he was sure that if you know who he was, the things he had done, the lives he had taken—you would never look at him the same again.

he made no move to hide anything about himself from you, but he also didn’t go out of his way to tell you either. if someone were to tell you, he would make no move to stop them.

but nobody knew him.

nobody until you.

long ago the wanderer swore he would never find companionship again, but by the time he noticed the way he had grown attached to you, it was already too late to turn back.

the existence of his past that had once felt like an eternity became nothing but a ghost in the back of his mind as you became a part of his present. he should’ve known he was in too deep the day he finally agreed to start taking you with him on his travels, but he was too distracted by the hope and excitement on your face as you proposed the idea to him.

he knew it was risky. you couldn’t fight, didn’t know how to lie with a straight face, and refused to butcher and eat an animal even if it meant life or death; but he didn’t have it in himself to say no to you. you, who truly had no bad intentions or motives. you, who listened to every word he had to say with an open mind and no judgment in your heart. you, who reminded him why he had once been so fond of humans.

how foolish he was, to get caught up in the fragile web of a mortal life again. but there was no stopping when he started falling for you.

the first time he had ever snapped at you, raised his voice and said cruel things born from the anguish in his chest, you barely reacted. even as insults left his lips and he told you to get lost, you gazed at him with steady, understanding eyes and waited until he ran out of hurtful things to say.

as his chest heaved with anger and his fingernails dig into his palms where they were clenched into fists, you waited patiently. when he came back to himself and saw the wetness of unshed tears in your eyes, the guilt and regret that followed nearly knocked him off of his feet.

it was cowardly of him, but in that moment all he could do was turn on his foot and flee. he couldn’t bear to see that look on your face, knowing it was all his own doing. he spent until the sun began to set dragging his feet around, picturing the way you would regard him like the monster he was from this point onward.

when he returned to you, he expected to find you upset and disgusted with him. but instead, when he tentatively stepped into your home, he found you sitting half asleep at your kitchen table with a pot of his favorite tea that had long gone cold waiting for him.

you sat up quickly when you saw him cross the threshold, suddenly alert and awake. he could tell you were hesitant to say something, unsure of what state of mind the wanderer might be in right then, so he put extra effort into moving calmly as he approached the table and sat down as not to scare you.

that night, he told you everything. you held his hands tightly between yours and listened from beginning to end, letting him retell the devastating tale of the life he’d lived as a heartless puppet. you cried for him. you told him how sorry you were that he had to experience all of that, how sad you were that it’d been so long since he’d felt wanted. you accepted him, his sins, his selfishness and greed.

no matter how far he jumped, you always met him halfway. he was undeniably, pathetically in love with you.

eventually, almost like it was always meant to happen, the two of you fell into each others arms as seamlessly as a stream flows. it had been a little over a year since the day he met you that you leaned in and kissed him for the first time. the wanderer was only shocked for a moment before he melted into it and realized that there was nothing more he wanted in this world than to be with you.

he was happy, happier than he could remember being in centuries. there was nothing he had to hide around you, nobody he had to pretend to be that he wasn’t. it was as easy as ever to fall into a natural rhythm with you, wandering around teyvat and experiencing everything together. even the things he had already done before felt new and memorable with you.

everywhere you went, it was together. the wanderer had been given a chance to see the world through a clear lens again, though it had become rose tinted over time from the intensity of your affection.

the many sights he saw with you were indescribable, but his eyes always returned to you no matter how breathtaking it was. home was wherever you were, and so the two of you found home everywhere.

but there came a day when he was forced to face reality yet again. many years passed by your side, and even though it was only a short amount of time to him, it was a huge chunk of your lifetime. when your skin began to show wrinkles and people began to mistake him for your son, the terrifying thought crossed his mind.

you wouldn’t be around forever, your time was running out, and it rooted a deep seed of dread into his chest that threatened to bloom into something worse. it dug up old feelings that the wanderer hadn’t felt in years, ones that gripped their icy claws into his head until they were impossible to ignore.

just like everyone else, you would leave him too.

why? why did he only find happiness and belonging in the things that wouldn’t last? he didn’t want to be alone again. it was unfair, and never more than in that moment had he longed to be a normal human.

did it bother you that he would never be able to grow old with you? that people would assume him your grandson and pass judgment if they knew the truth? things would soon begin to grow complicated and people who had known you both would notice that he didn’t age.

you knew this as well as he did, and after a long and painful conversation about it, you insisted it didn’t bother you and made him promise to move forward even when you were gone. you knew he was afraid and that he had already lost so much, that there was a huge possibility that he would lose himself when you left. you feared that he had become too reliant on you.

that in itself was what had him making an oath to himself that he wouldn’t let you leave this world feeling worried about him. and he didn’t have it in him to break a promise to you.

when walking up steps became a difficult task for you, he’d wrap an arm around you and help you make it to the top. when you got worn out more easily and couldn’t keep up with traveling around anymore, he suggested the two of you finally settle down and return to your old house.

as you grew weaker every year and had to rely on him more, the wanderer never once complained or treated it like an inconvenience. he was there for you, just as he had promised he always would be. you never stopped being beautiful in his eyes, even when your hair turned gray and your joints achy. you still had the same sweet smile, the same captivating eyes, the same comforting smell. you were still you, and you were his.

eventually, when your skin had become pale and sallow and your hands too shaky and weak to hold anything, you had slowly reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes with a sad smile.

“i will come back to you,” you promised weakly, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. “no matter how many times, no matter what form i take, my soul will always return to you.”

even as his heart got caught in his throat and tears spilled over his cheeks, the wanderer nodded weakly at your words.

“okay.”

during your final days, it took everything in him to hold it together. he spoon fed you as often as you’d let him, breath hitching every time you struggled to swallow. he stayed by your side and held your frail hands in his steady ones, planting soft kisses against your knuckles and whispering his love for you into your skin.

by the final evening, he wasn’t even sure if you could hear him anymore. still, he laid next to you the bed you shared and retold the old stories he remembers from the very beginning of your time together. it was hard to talk without breaking down when he knew you wouldn’t respond. only the sound of your shallow breathing filled the silence, growing slower and slower by the hour.

losing you was something he had long since been preparing for, but was never truly ready to experience. he had felt grief many times in the past, but it had never hurt this deeply. it was like a sheet of anguish clinging to him, weighing him down and piercing him with nails.

quiet, lonely, and cold, there was a giant gaping hole in his chest that you had once filled. a void that your existence managed to soothe, but it was there again. loud, unforgiving, and so, so unbearably painful.

he cried more than he ever thought himself capable of in the weeks that followed. everywhere he looked, he could only see where you should’ve been. the wind was lonely without the sound of your voice, and the sky dull. maybe it was just his imagination, but even the birds and bugs seemed less lively without you.

there was a suffocating stillness clouding his perception of reality. he didn’t want to acknowledge that time was passing without you, or that he would never feel your warmth next to him anymore, but he knew you were gone. there was nothing he could do.

it hurt. it hurt so badly that he could still hear his own guttural sobs even over the deafening downpour of rain as it soaked him to the bone where he sat hunched over in front of where you had been buried not long before.

he missed you so much. even though he had gone so long being alone before he met you, it was as if he was experiencing it all for the first time again. his lungs burned and his chest ached as he choked on humid air, wishing you were still there to comfort him like you always had been.

“please,” he called softly into the wind, willing himself to hold on to even the smallest shard of hope. “keep your promise.”

there was no response.

he was alone again.

#yaepublishinghouse #requests! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #my writing

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aerodaltonimperial · 7 months

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May I please get Hook attempting to show affection and failing miserably? ie -attempting physical affection and punching/headbutting someone at normal strength instead of at joke strength because he didn't know you're supposed to hold back or hugging/holding onto a handshake for inappropriately long bc he has no idea how those work or what the cues are -gift giving and having his brain absolutely combust when the other person does not like chips, as eating snacks together is his #1 way of being a buddy and he has NO idea where to go without that option -trying really really really hard to hold a conversation and accidentally coming off as annoying or brainless -puts his all into assuring someone with compliments and accidentally backhandedly insults them instead

All of these just being spitballs off the top of my head, no need to stick to any of them. Preferably Besties but really it would be fun with anyone he's ever associated with. Just him trying so so sooooo hard because he is so full of love and being doomed hilariously (but obviously still loved back despite that)

(When I got this last night I was like HILARIOUS but I couldn't get to it until today and today my brain woke up going no funny only feels so.... oops 🧡🤜🤛💚)

When he was in first grade, a group of boys at school always played together during recess: silly kid games, full of superheroes and bad guys and flying and, inexplicably, sheep, and Hook spent a few days watching them zoom around the blacktop before he decided he wanted to join. He went in halfway through, knocked one of them down onto the gravel, and then asked the rest where the superhero operations base was.

"You can't just barge in here!" One of them shrieked, offended. "You can't just come in and decide we are friends!"

Hook hadn't tried to do that again. And he hadn't thought about that disastrous attempt in quite some time. But when he saw Jack Perry getting jumped by the Firm, he barged out without thinking, like he had that day on the playground. He barreled into the bad guys, and then he stuck his hand out for Jack to take, a slightly updates version of his 6-year-old self's instinctive attempt to forget friendship.

Jack's eyes had lit up. He'd taken Hook’s hand. And even later, backstage, when Hook expected him to push Hook away again, he hadn't done it. He hadn't told Hook that Hook can't just decide they are friends through physical force. Instead, he stuck close and sat next to Hook while getting checked by medical.

And Hook thought: oh. Maybe we are friends, now.

In fourth grade, Hook had one friend who lived down the street, because that's the way childhood friendships worked: location. They would ride bikes and play with action figures and sit in Hook’s basement playing Playstation games, and it was an easy camaraderie because they had a lot of the same interests and followed the same baseball team. Then his friend's grandfather died, and all the other kids at school got some gifts, since everyone knew how close they had been.

He got baseball cards and a t-shirt and a limited edition comic book, and then, when Hook handed him a bag of chips, everyone around them had burst into laughter.

"Seriously?" One of them said. "His grandpa died and you're giving him chips?"

Hook doesn't say that they always eat chips together, and it makes Hook happy, so he assumed that it made his friend happy, too. He doesn't say that he had thought this would bring comfort and familiarity when his friend needed something. He just left. And they stopped playing together after that.

After he fishes Jack out of the dumpster, they sit backstage. Hook pulls a bag of chips out of his backpack and offers it without thinking; he doesn't make a connection that maybe chips won't help after being attacked and humiliated. He doesn't think about Jack not liking the chips. He just knows that if he were sitting there, feeling low, he would want something to offer a burst of serotonin. He panics with the bag outstretched between them.

Jack smiles, genuine. He takes the bag. "Oh. Hey, thanks. Man, I was really hungry. And I love these."

They sit side by side as Jack chomps on the Doritos, and Hook's chest feels warm.

In high school, Hook played lacrosse. They made it to state, lost, and then the next year, made it again. The second time, they won. They worked all season and trained until they could hardly breathe, and they won. Hook was so overcome, so excited, and bursting with gratitude and affection for his teammates. He threw his arms around his closest friend on the team and hugged him tight enough to steal both their breath away.

He'd been pushed away, rather abruptly. "Dude, what the fuck," his friend had laughed, kind of tinny. Uncomfortable. "You're so touchy-feely."

Hook hadn't thought that he was; he thought it was natural to reach out, to seek warmth, to desire a physical contact with people he liked. After that, he hung back. Didn't offer anything more than a fist bump, because people didn't take it the same way, as simply the instinctive wish to make meaningful contact. It sucked, but he adapted.

Until the tag match against LFI, when Hook ends up covered in Preston Vance's blood. When he stumbles his way back to the center of the ring after throwing the man around in the stands, with crimson coating his hair. They've won, but Hook knows he has to look a fright.

Jack moves in, and Hook does, too, without thinking. They hug, just like that, between the ropes, and it’s so fucking nice. Jack ducks his head out of the hard cam line and asks, near Hook's ear, frantic, "You okay? You hurt?"

"I'm okay," Hook says. He reaches again, twice, just to prove that Jack is also okay, that he's still solid and steady and warm. That they won. That the excitement bubbling up through Hook’s chest is real. And Jack doesn't push him away. Jack's arms go around him each time, just as eager. Just as determined to claw out that physical closeness in the wake of an impressive victory.

They used to tell him that he was overwhelming. That his texts about everything and nothing, all the time, were too much. That he needs to have 10 good friends instead of one best friend, so he isn't so intense all the time, so weirdly possessive over his friendships. Hook doesn't hate everyone. He's not trying to be stand-offish. It's just that the only way he knows how to be a friend is to be everything, all the time, at maximum level.

Maybe Hook is a little different. Maybe he's a little bit odd, just a hair off from the rest. Maybe his idea of friendship doesn't match up with everyone else. But maybe it was always just a matter of finding someone on the same wavelength.

After that match, they sit shoulder to shoulder on Jack’s hotel bed, freshly showered. They've got a movie on. Jack has leaned over against Hook’s hoodie; his warmth is comfortable. Hook lets his head fall against Jack’s hair. Maybe Hook really is weirdly intense when it comes to friendships, but hey: turns out, Jack is just as fucking weird about it. When Hook sends 12 texts in a row, Jack responds to every single one of them.

"Haha," Jack laughs, popping a Cheeto into his mouth. Hook can feel the laughter rumbling through both their skin. "Think he's gonna regret sparing that guy's life?"

Almost assuredly. "Hey," Hook says, apropos of nothing, just because the emotion is swelling in his chest. "You're my best friend."

"Duh," Jack replies, like it's obvious. "You're mine, too."

#tag so you don't lose this shit #heel turn? i don't know her

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walrus150915 · 7 months

Text

Have you guys seen my other post talking about how Ambrosius n Ballister would look when they're middle aged?

Yea okay nvm I drew them together as old men yaoi again bc it's very funny

Ambrosius, you old rascal!👀

I love depicting older queer people being in love and living a calm cozy life with their families bc idk man... It makes me hopeful for the future

Ft. their kid Aquila and their kid-family friend-aunt-uncle-grandparent Nimona being annoyed with them (and I mean- wouldn't you be?)

By the way this post is framed I guess you could tell where I'm going with this

Headcanon time for the Boldheart household when Nimona is 1030yo, Ambrosius and Ballister are in their late 40s and their kid is a tween

- Nimona is a free traveler. She's done so many round-the-world trips that Magellan may choke from jealousy while burning in hell

- No matter where she is tho, she always comes back to Ballister and always shares new things she's seen and new friends she's made - people and animals alike. YES SHE HAS A TON OF FRIENDS SHE ALWAYS WANTED BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT SHE DESERVES!!! MY BABY😭

- She always makes her comeback a surprise: jumps from the roof on Bal's head, flies dramatically, knocks on the door to pretend she's a deliveryman or a postman

- Ballister works as an engineer bc the raw SKILL this fella used to build an arm WHILE having one is unmatched. "If you're good at something, you gotta proceed to get a career in this field, otherwise you're just wasting your potential" © my Asian mom (jk don't do this. I'm no professional artist but I draw bc it's my hobby)

- He probably worked on the deconstruction of the wall. The symbolism would be great + it'd make sense for his character!

- My man is overworking because of course he does. Nimona tries her best to slap it out of him but this man is a workaholic and nothing can fix it I'm afraid

- I have no idea what Ambrosius's job is. Sry😭

- I know it must be something artsy and something which doesn't bring much money. Ambrosius is BLOOMING at work tho. He's doing something he likes! Not something his parents made him do! And he's enjoying it! Knowing he'll get back home to his kid and husband and Nimona and hug them all sweetly!!

- Aquila is mostly B-student who's described as "Your child studies well, Mr Boldheart, but they need to be more active and social in the class"

- Aquila doesn't have much friends outside of their family. Their parents and Nimona are worried about it more than they are

- Nimona made it her undertaking to make sure Aquila doesn't feel the way she used to in a situation like this

- When she's in the mood, Nimona takes Aquila to school by using her powers. It's pretty much the norm for Aquila to arrive to school on the horse or on the back of an eagle or on the rhino lol

If we've started with Goldenheart, I guess we could also continue with them? (a tiny bit of spice under the cut)

- They're still disgustingly in love. Like it's cringy how in love they are

- They try to keep the sparkle alive no matter how repetitive their routine gets

- Slow dancing (which is actually just cuddling and rocking side to side together) in the kitchen? Kissing each other before and after work? Having romantic dinners from time to time? Yea that's their kinda stuff

- That sparkle also includes trying out new things in bed. They don't have as much energy as they used to tho😭 Instead of going two or even three rounds like they used to they'd rather just sleep WJJSSJJAJJWEJSJS

- [seahorse dad Bal since trans!Ballister headcanon is one of my favorites] Ambrosius's worshipping of Ballister's body increased 100x after Aquila was born bc THIS FELLOW MAN whom he loves VERY MUCH beared THEIR CHILD in his body for 9 months, how's that not amazing? A thing this man has for competence of his husband is insaneeeee

- I feel like their love life has only got better as the time went on

- As all parents do, these two learnt how to do everything very quietly

- Nimona could finally sleep calmly thank the creator they had a kid who made them learn

Okay I'm done with spice. Let's talk sweet (aka random ig)

- Bal cracks his joints a lot (grandpa LLLLL)

- Aquila DOES NOT have it good on Father's day

- Nimona teases Ballister for getting older (as a joke) but she's kinda worried about him, since he does get grey hair, wrinkles n stuff and. Uh. She doesn't. So-

I'M SORRY IT WASN'T MEANT TO BE ANGSTY

- Aquila is trilingual so real of them

- Yea the Boldheart household is multilingual. One could say something in English and the other would answer in Urdu no problem

I think that's about it. I blogged this earlier than planned bc I pressed the wrong button but I hope you enjoy this whiplash of my brainrot nevertheless

Heading to school rn. See ya when I come up with new things to talk abt wfvbhhnj!!!

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #nimona fanart #fankid #should i make a tag of them specifically at that point guys #idk😭#hope you enjoyed the old men yaoi food i have for ya in the cafeteria today AHFJHKLL #sorry for random spicy stuff i add #I'll try to keep it minimal #aquila boldheart

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ghostherlig · 5 months

Text

gothic western drabble 2

they won't leave me alone- so here's another bit of them being silly with each other <33 ft old western slang and phrases bc i forgot how much i love old timey phrases

The marksman just wanted to rest after all that transpired.

Doing anything with Johnny was exhausting, but travelling followed by fighting, followed again by travelling, and then setting up camp was beyond exhausting with Johnny.

"Wanna snort?" The actor smiled, his usual charm cranked up to a hundred now that Kenshi was tired beyond belief. Despite the canteen held out in a more than friendly hand, Kenshi raised a brow at him, as if Johnny had been speaking in tongues.

"What?" He breathed, Johnny chuckling at his confusion.

"Sorry, sugar, do you want a drink?" He corrected, and Kenshi pursed his lips as he snatched the canteen, Johnny hissing another laugh.

Kenshi took a swig, sighing in relief and dumping some of the water over his head, the heat of the afternoon still lingering into the evening.

"You act like I was tryin' to clean your plow," The actor rolled his eyes, the marksman tempted to throw water at him. Instead, he rolled his eyes in return, Johnny laughing.

"I don't even know what you're saying to me half the time," Kenshi grumbled, taking another swig of water, sighing and letting his head fall back against the tree.

His eyes had fallen shut, letting himself cool off. Despite his closed eyes and tense demeanor, Johnny still stepped in front of what little sun was left of the day, Kenshi peeking an eye open.

"Now you know how I feel when you grumble to yourself in Japanese, Takahashi." Johnny teased, pinching the tip of Kenshi's nose, the marksman making a noise of discontent and slapping his hand away, pushing himself up to stand.

"Don't start with that, Carlton," Kenshi warned, and Johnny put his hands on his hips, looking behind him at some imaginary audience while pointing to Kenshi.

"And here I thought he wouldn't care a continental," He joked, the marksman groaning at his antics, tossing the canteen back into his chest once he had screwed it shut.

"What's so difficult about speaking normally to me?" Kenshi sighed, exasperated with Johnny's words.

"I am speaking to you normally! Well, normally for here, anyway," He amended, and Kenshi sighed.

"私がこれまでに下したあらゆる決断が、私をあなたへと導いたのです。" He complained, throwing his hands up in the air before reaching up to grab his hat from where he had placed it on a branch.

"Well, you sound dreadful pretty like that, darlin'," Johnny smirked, trailing right behind the marksman, Kenshi flushing at the obvious staring Johnny was doing below his belt, "Fine as cream gravy." The actor mumbled, and Kenshi was tempted to turn around and slap him.

"Quit staring at my ass." The marksman spoke instead, clear and concise, and he heard the footsteps stop behind him.

Kenshi turned, Johnny looking like he was struck by lightning, face flushed and mouth hung open.

The marksman took his opportunity to get Johnny back just a little bit more, taking a step forward. One hand landed on Johnny's waist, the other palm up, Kenshi's fingers extended to close Johnny's mouth.

"You'll catch flies, darlin'," Kenshi mimicked Johnny's accent, the actor blinking like he'd just been struck.

The marksman's hands retreated, giving Johnny a pat on the shoulder and an annoyed smile before he continued back to his tent, Johnny sputtering and chasing after him again.

Maybe travelling with the actor wasn't so bad.

(the japanese was done using a translator (linked bc i think it works better than google does), but it's supposed to say "Every decision I've ever made led me to you, you absolute moron."

also, the phrase "clean your plow" means to beat somebody up, and "fine as cream gravy" just means "very good" or "top notch")

#drabbles by greg #gothic western au #johnshi #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #they wont leave me alone #maybe a taleena (?) drabble next?? .3.#who knows #certainly not me

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meeeeeeri · 1 year

Text

Things that really ANNOYED THE FUCK OUTTA ME while watching OUTER BANKS SEASON 3:

First things first: Big John AKA big old crazy dude

Let's just say that besides being a shitty father figure he also is selfish as fuck. He only decides to appear in John B's life whenever he needs him to do something treasure related, like ok big John, you love your son so much *cough cough*

In other hand, he also is willing to do ANTHING to find el Dorado, and by ANYTHING I mean killing people, tell me that's not what a psychopath would do.

And all the fricking screen time dedicated to the relationship between John B and his father???? Like we get that they need to bond again but DO WE HAVE TO WATCH ALL THE PROCESS?

No thank you Netflix, do better next time

I saw a tik tok that went something like this: Who said Ward is a bad person? Big John? cause if we wanna talk about someone BAD let's talk about Big John...

And yeah, that tik tok literally summes up my opinion about this individual.

Me roasting Big John with this post:

2: Rafe and the girl named Sofia who came out of nowhere

Ok. Don't misunderstand me; the idea of introducing a new character who's gonna play the girlfriend or fuckbuddy of Rafe is super super interesting to me BUT

Can you elaborate more their relationship????? Give more CONTEXT????

They could even use her apparition and do a BOMB ASS side story like idk maybe her being more cruel than Rafe or her having some kind of business relationship with Singh and betraying him in the process... WHATEVER

But I'm just saying that that would have been more interesting than the parental issues between Big Dumbass John and John B

A video of me crying while scenes of John B and his dad appeared on my tv non stop:

LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO CUTE LOVE HIM

3: Sarah and Topper

Don't even get me started on this shit.

When I saw that Sarah went back to flirting with Topper I was like WHA- WHE- WHO

But I'm not gonna question her that much because they are supposed to be playing teenagers, and that's what teenagers and (also) some adults do:

STUPID SHIT

And Topper... I really don't know how to feel about him.

He's like a shark who's ready to attack if he sniffs some blood (Sarah and John B breaking up or having relationship turbulences), but I can't even blame him that much because I feel like he really loves Sarah besides everything, and he really demonstrated it this season by helping the pogues out.

What Topper was replaying in his head when Sarah promised him that she would stay:

4: Sarah's thoughts when she was left with no family, no money and nowhere to go (she was homeless for like a day and decided to cope with it by drinking beer from an abandoned beer tap, ok)

Um... When I say I was expecting her to say something philosophical and life changing and SHE DECIDED TO CONCLUDE HER SPEECH WITH: I really don't know if I'm a pogue or a kook...

SIDE EYE

Girl I KNOW you are 17 but GROW THE FUCK UP.

You've been betrayed by your OWN FATHER and SHOT and nearly KILLED by your BROTHER and that's what you're thinking about???

Jesus Christ have mercy on me

All the build up story around pogues and kooks is really interesting (even tho it's like another form of saying rich and poor people) but when characters say shit like that it really makes no sense.

You have no home, no family, you argued with your bf and he left, and your friends are not there at the moment and YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT THAT IRRELEVANT SHIT? Damn

Ok, I think I am done with most of the things I wanted to say. There are MORE for sure, but these are the most important ones.

I have to be honest with you, I still haven't watched the last episode bc I really got tired of their bullshit. I love the show and I really love the characters, but this season just wasn't it. I am gonna try and finish it today with hopes that they will end it in a decent way (I don't think so but whatever).

It's not a secret by the end of this post that I'm a spanish native speaker so, yeah, I tried my best to write down correctly the ideas that I had about the show, so PLEASE don't come at me.

I'm also writing a fanfiction about Rafe, but I'm doing it in spanish because I feel like if I wrote it in english I would fuck it up.

Maybe I will try and start uploading Rafe imagines or smth like that, bc they would be shorter and easier to write for me.

PLEASE if you have any thoughts or a comment that you wanna add after reading my rant, just do it, I'm for sure gonna be answering y'all because I love to talk about the show and the characters.

BYE P4L

#obx #obx3 #outer banks #outer banks 3 #rafecameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x y/n #sorry for the rant #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron blurb #obx smut #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut

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skitskatdacat63 · 1 month

Note

catie let’s discuss vettonso headcanons what are ur favs

*sends you to my vettonso tag* shsjkdkf kidding kidding, but wah this is so weirdly hard to answer despite the fact that I think about them literally every day of my life, ig they're just kinda intrinsic to me 😭 but I'll try my best!

I think Fernando really resented Seb for a while, especially during the championship fight years, and originally was very unhappy when Seb then went on to take his Ferrari seat away from him too. But then while he was gone from f1, he kept track of f1 still and realized Seb was going through the same ferrari bs and pain and failure to realize your childhood dream that he himself went through, and he then softened on Seb.

I find them literally to be the same person(but their narratives are offset.) And I think that's a big reason why they never really became friends, they're *too* similar to the point where it annoys each other too much fhfkkff Especially bcs theyre always ahead of one another in the narrative(fernando won his wdc before, fernando is in ferrari before Seb, seb is in Aston before Fernando, etc.) It's just weird to kinda witness someone that's so similar to you, but at a past stage in your life.

They would be the best and most annoying teammates ever. I think they'd both just constantly try to out-compete each other, and maybe it would be toxic back in the day and make the team fall apart like 2007 mclaren or martian rbr, but if it happened at Aston, I think it would actually make the team stronger and the car better. Like fighting for "who can give the best feedback" "who can do the most sim time" etc etc, I think it'd be really sweet 🥹🥹 I just imagine them making post-race debriefs last like 5 hours, except everyone else snuck out of the room at the hour mark, and they've just been debating abt the telemetry at each other, cause they only have eyes for each other <3

^ but yeah seriously think they have the type of competition that could bring each other together, not drive each other apart. Especially at their softened old man age. I guess I think, being forced into such close quarters with each other, they'd be able to realize how similar they are. Bcs otherwise it's just too easy for them to avoid each other. I mean I think a lot about the japan 2023 pics, them talking over the car that was practically the product of their joint effort, and that makes me so emotional 🤧

They absolutely love irritating each other, irs like a sport. I like to think though that Seb kept doing it soooo much pre-Fernando first retirement, and Fernando was always like 😐 just sooooo done with it, and often unwilling to fully play along. I love how seemingly Seb is one of the only ones who can kinda make his mask break, and have him show full annoyance. Like think about the "you must leave the space" clip, Fernando is sooooo annoyed, its just so funny. But yeah I love how Seb kinda forces Fernando in a way most others don't, if that makes sense? And then he comes back, rejuvenated, different mindset, and is suddenly willing to play along??? And now Seb is the tired one :( but Fernando has realized all he was blocking out before, and is willing to engage :,) BUT YEAH! see again, think about the fact that Seb literally paid a fee to not listen to Fernando talk. Mutually they are the only ones that annoy the other so much that they crack to that point, and I love it seemingly swapped over time. They're just such equals in that way.

Here's the interesting thing, I find them to be mirrors, right? I think like if they met each other when each were at the same place in their career(i.e. ferrari Fernando with ferrari seb, renault wdc fernando with rbr wdc seb), I think they'd have a better chance of getting along. Cause they understand where the other is at deeply, but the way it is in real life makes it so they're at different points and suddenly are at odds with each other. Ig that's why I wish we got them as teammates at Aston! It was pretty cute with alpine fernando x aston seb, but ah man if only we got the actual "conclusion", I would have loved to see what they'd be like when genuinely in the same parts of their career together. I think a lot about timeswap AUs I guess. Like both of them at ferrari being able to commiserate together, their wdc selves bragging about how many races they won(until they find out who the other had to beat to become wdc, and then they choke each other out.)

Me: ill try!!!

Also me: six paragraphs

Though I think if you asked me abt one of my AUs, I could come up with more than just daydreaming about their dynamic sjfkkg. Hope this was what you were asking for???? Also lmk, what are your favs!!!

#catie.asks.#vettonso

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reallyromealone · 2 years

Note

Hmmmm I wanted a crack fic bc the last time I request is the baby reader first word

So can you please make like ran and rindou has to bring their baby brother to a meeting with tenjiku and ended up with chaos like ran and rindou got send to do a mission and izana tell all the tenjiku member to babysit their brother and then the baby cry and they don't know what make the baby cry and the real reason was bc hanma face it's like:

Baby:*crying*

Mochi: why is he crying

Shion: I don't know I never care a baby before!

Baby:*crying harder*

Kakucho:*rocking the baby* why he doesn't stop crying?!

Kisaki:*is done*

Hanma:*the reason the baby cry*

Okokok

Love this

Ran held his eight month old brother in his arms, the littlest Haitani trying to grab his brothers braids to no avail as Ran moves them behind his back much to the infants annoyance "no (name), braids aren't for playing" Ran said soothingly and distracted the baby with one of his gloved finger's and in turn (name) tried to get his brothers finger.

"You sure Izana was cool with him coming?" Rindō asked staring at his baby brother fondly, they dressed him in s matching outfit as them and god damn was it precious.

"He didn't really care, just said he didn't want to change any diapers" Ran said casually as they walked to Tenjiku headquarters, opening the door to reveal the members sitting causally waiting for them and Izana.

"Eh? Why you guys got a brat?" Mochi asked staring at the baby, catching the attention of the others "this is (name), our baby brother" Rindō said as it were obvious and Kisaki glared at the three before spitting out "why is he here?"

"Couldn't find a sitter, take it up with Izana if you got a problem" Ran taunted before the siblings took their seats and settled (name) on their lap.

Izanas arrival moments later and the meeting began, everyone paying attention and trying to ignore the tiny baby making babbling sounds as the sunset eyed man explained the mission "the haitanis will go, you lot will watch (name)" Izana said making no room for arguments as the Haitani brothers gave a cold smile "if a hair is out of place on his head...we will kill you all" ran said with a sickly sweet smile and Rindō just gave a cold expression.

And that's how they ended up here.

Mochi holding the baby Haitani awkwardly, the tiny babe just vibing until making eye contact with hanma and face slowly quivered until he began crying loudly. "Oh god nononono" mochi said trying to sooth the baby "why is he crying?!" He said panicked and the men began loosing their shit "I don't know?! Do I look like I cared for a baby?!" Shion said gripping his hair as he tried to think of a way to get the kid to stop wailing.

"Maybe there's something in his bag?!" Kakucho said digging in the baby bag for anything, pulling out a pre made bottle and trying to feed (name) only for the babe to smack it away angrily as kisaki watched annoyed, Sanzu in the background just watching the whole situation go down amused.

(Name) glanced at Hanma again and screamed louder, the men clueing in and in the end Hanma was stuck with a bag over his head and (name) eventually calmed down, vibing for a while until a foul odor filled the room.

"Oh god damn it"

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tenjiku x reader #ran haitani #haitani ran #ran haitani x reader #haitani rindou #haitani brothers

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ccuniculusmolestus · 3 months

Note

It’s okay if you deleted it XD

Now write it 🔫 🥰 (just kidding!) but seriously. Write it👽

(The story is set in Rome, a week and a half since they landed. All the deets in the book abt Henry's irritation w Bunny are relevant. To start off, they went to a boutique Bun really wanted to visit :3) Anyway, nsfw below! I tried! I'm so sick bcs of my meds rn but this ask for some reason has been haunting me (jk) anyway it was an interesting concept (the concept: bunny rides henry) and i wanted to write it so lets go :3 Request: Winterbunny smut Words: 2953

At the store, Henry’s patience was tested once again.

He bought Bunny two Italian suits and they’d cost him another fortune. But as long as Bunny was happy, right? (Wrong.). But now that Bunny was happy (and this would not last long, Henry knew), his glee turned him even more talkative than he'd been all week, which was really saying something. And it meant that now, he was fantasizing about getting even more things. When they returned to the palazzo, Bunny was buzzing with energy. On the other hand was Henry, utterly miserable and sapped of his energy and of his will to live.

He wasn't at all prepared for a chatty, excited Bunny when they got home. Henry just wanted to rest. He wanted to eat some dinner and maybe read some Homer. He was exhausted. He didn't want to spend time chit-chatting with Bunny, so he went to his room and bothered only with his coat– dropping it blindly into the seat beside his bed, and then he laid down with a groan.

In not even an instant, Bunny was beside him, excitedly yapping his head off, not even pausing for a damn breath.

Henry of course couldn't even sleep because Bunny was now in his ear, babbling a mile a minute.

He tried to ignore him, closing his eyes and turning his head away.

Bunny was, contrary to Henry’s understanding, also a little tired. Neither of them were fatigued just yet, but they were both tired. And Bunny’s talking was beginning to exhaust even himself (thank god!). As Bunny’s chatter slowed down, he rested his head on Henry’s arm.

Henry felt the boy's head, but otherwise he didn't react.

He was just completely done. If Bunny wanted to use him as a pillow, then so be it. He didn’t give a damn.

Bunny fell silent for a moment.

Thank God, thought Henry.

And he would be proven correct in just a while.

Perhaps the gods were finally feeling bad for Henry, and perhaps they’d decided he’d earned some relief, perhaps they’d taken Bunny’s annoying voice away for a while. But Henry knew better than that. This was Bunny. He was bound to resume his babbling in another moment. Even the gods couldn’t stop him from running that mouth.

Henry moved again, to lay on his back (and also it was an attempt to brush Bunny off). But Bunny’s head was now on Henry’s chest, and he was, in fact, climbing Henry a little.

……what?

Henry looked down.

Bunny was on him. He was lying. On top of Henry. One of his legs was in between Henry’s own, and he was attached more to the side of Henry’s body.

Henry gently moved Bunny's head off of his chest.

His head just moved back into place.

“Henry, do you think the drug cartels are a good way of making money?”

Henry blinked at the ceiling, wondering if he’d heard the question right. Once again, he questioned his own sanity or ability to hear.

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“You know, drug cartels.” Bunny mumbled, cheek squished against Henry’s chest.

“My pal Cloke, you know him, was telling me about these guys he knows in New York. They run a tight circle. They make a lot of money.” Bunny was just babbling again, playing with the button on Henry’s shirt.

"No, I don't believe that drug cartels are a good way of making money." Henry repeated bitterly, a mocking element to his tone.

He was fed the hell up. This boy had the attention span of a two-year-old. He should have been exhausted from all the bullshit he had been spewing from his mouth the entire evening, but no. No, no, no, Bunny Corcoran was never tired.

“But it’s quick and it’s easy,” Bunny insisted.

He readjusted with a small grunt, having almost slipped off Henry.

And it's illegal, Henry rolled his eyes.

He was so irritated with Bunny’s lack of general awareness; Henry didn’t want him on top of him, he wasn't interested in discussing this topic. Space. Please. All he needed was some space.

"You do realize that it's illegal, right?"

“Well, your dad does illegal stuff too.” Bunny said without thinking. “It’s how everyone makes money.”

Henry was struck speechless. He didn’t know if he should be offended or surprised or nothing at all– he knew his father’s company was not as pristine and crime-free as it presented itself. And while corporate crime was greatly different from trafficking crime, at the end of the day, crime was crime.

Bunny was much smarter than he seemed. And he had quite a knack for hitting below the belt. Though Henry wasn’t sure if Bunny was trying to be purposefully antagonistic at the moment.

Bunny’s head moved on Henry’s chest. He turned his face the other way. And he clung to Henry a bit more, trying to not slip off him. His little movements were putting a strain on Henry. He really did treat him like a damn plush toy. Henry could feel him trying to get as close as possible.

Bunny sat up a little and put his other leg over Henry’s other one, so now he was straddling him.

“So illegality isn’t an issue, really. Is it?”

Henry's eyes snapped open as Bunny straddled him, all sleep and fatigue flying out of them.

Not that he was bothered, of course. He didn’t mind Bunny’s body pressed against him.

…….

No… wait, no, of course he did mind it. He very much minded it. He was very not okay with this.

…….

Goddamn it all.

“I mean, are we concerned about morality? Are we really?” Bunny pressed on quietly, his voice soft, his eyes glinting strangely in the moonlight.

Were they still talking about cartels and crime?

Henry’s brows furrowed. Bunny was really doing a number on his brain this evening.

"If we're talking in terms of morality, then of course drug cartels are not morally sound."

Bunny leaned over Henry, “But do we care if it’s moral or not?”

Something strange was happening. Henry couldn’t really fathom it– his mind felt so twisted and stretched around whatever was going on…it was not in its capacity, it seemed, to really register what the hell was happening. This was a side of Bunny he had never seen before. And even more crazily enough, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“Well, do you care?” Henry asked, his voice sharp… and not entirely platonic.

He knew he himself didn’t particularly care about morality.

“If I have to be honest,” Bunny mumbled, lips hovering too close. “Not really.”

Again, Henry had to wonder, what were they really talking about?

He could feel Bunny's breath on his skin.

It didn’t make sense to him– why did he feel so damn relaxed, despite having one of the most awkward conversations he’d had in a while? And the more Henry tried to make sense of it, the more he realized he couldn’t. He kept getting distracted. Bunny’s eyes were boring into his, and somehow they were silencing every single thought.

“Do you care? About morality? About sin?” Bunny asked.

What are we getting at here, really? Henry wanted to ask, but he could only stare for a while, eyes a little wide. They weren’t talking about drug trafficking anymore, were they?

"Not really." Henry mumbled, his voice distant, as if he was very far away.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Oh, they definitely were not still talking about crime.

Henry's breath caught in his throat. Bunny was insane. This was insane. The world was insane.

But what was he waiting for?

He had no damn clue.

“What am I waiting for?”

Henry's heart thumped in his chest.

“Yes, what?”

“I…” Henry couldn’t finish his sentence. Bunny was too close, too tempting.

He was just as much of a tease as he was a pest.

Bunny’s lips were trembling with want, and the frustration that came with it— he was ready. He was being bold despite his own inhibitions. He went all this way— if Henry hesitated now…

Thankfully, he didn’t. Henry finally reached up to pull him down.

He had been resisting him for too long, anyway. It was time.

Bunny moaned softly as Henry’s lips crashed up into his own. He made a sweet sound. Henry’s lips pushed back against Bunny’s with an almost desperate intensity. It was soft– softer than it should have been. Their faces pressed into each other.

Bunny was still straddling Henry, and he moved his hips— he didn’t know how to, at least not consciously. But his body seemed to know what to do just fine. Henry could feel Bunny moving against him, and before he could stop himself, his body responded. He pressed up against Bunny, grinding against him, and it felt so damn….good.

Bunny’s mouth fell open in a sharp gasp as Henry grinded his hips upward. A guttural whine was ripped out of his throat, his back arched a little and his head leaned back.

Henry was losing all control as he pushed himself into Bunny as tightly as he could. And the sound of Bunny's groan did something very unexpected to Henry. It caused a sound to come from him as well. A sound as raw as Bunny's, as uncontrolled as Bunny's. Something very foreign to the cold exterior he usually projected.

"Gods…." He moaned.

Bunny said Henry’s name.

Henry's whole body was trembling now. His body could not move any further into Bunny's. When Bunny said his name, he froze. He didn't know what to do. His mind was a scramble of emotions and thoughts, and he realized what was happening and he thought of putting an end to it all–

But then Bunny moaned again, and the sound sent a jolt of electricity rushing through his body.

He knew he liked the sound of it too much to want to stop now.

Henry’s arms wrapped tightly around Bunny, holding him close as their bodies writhed and grinded together. Henry’s breathing became faster and more labored as he pushed himself as deeply into Bunny as he could, and Bunny’s quiet gasps and heavy breathing matched his. It was very obvious in that moment what role each of them would be playing in this moment, and those to come.

Henry squeezed Bunny tighter. Bunny made sounds from the back of his throat, right next to Henry’s ear. They sent shivers down Henry's spine, through his body and right down to the tips of his fingers and toes. Henry felt, just then, something drop in the pit of his stomach. And it was very uncomfortable, but it felt pleasurable at the same time.

As their bodies rocked and rubbed against one another, there was some confusion, some struggle to get it just right. It felt clumsy, so Bunny sat up a little to try and grind against Henry’s hips better.

When Bunny did that, Henry's eyes went wide. It worked. They’d aligned perfectly, and now the movement, the friction, the heat– it was perfect. It was heaven. Bunny threw his head back and they went at it. In a blur of heat and lust and sweat and passion, their bodies were stripped of all fabric, and their lips were once again melting together.

Their bodies moved and responded to each other instantly, as they kissed in a fever.

The sensation of being this close was dizzying.

Henry could feel the heat coursing through him, burning him up. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, thudding and beating, and he could feel Bunny’s pulse too.

They remained in that bubble for a while, and then Bunny reached behind and slowly took Henry in his hand– it was so odd for both of them. Bunny’s touch was electric at first, and then quite warm. Henry shivered. They both braced for what came next, and , honestly, Bunny’s initiative really quite shocked Henry, as he rather bravely did the next few steps all on his own. Slow and cautious, he pushed his hips down, panting and groaning with every little slip inside, lips pursed, expression the most focused Henry had ever seen him. He brought his hand back up and then their hands were tightly clasped, resting on the pillow on either side of Henry’s head.

Henry’s mouth hung open in a small o as he felt himself penetrate Bunny. It was a gentle moment of cautious movement, both of them still, glancing down, sometimes catching each other’s gazes as they hissed and groaned till they had become one.

Bunny steadied himself a little, panting with effort— effort Henry had never really seen Bunny put anywhere else. So he was good for something other than just complaining and whining and spending ridiculous amounts of money. Surprising.

Then Bunny began moving, and Henry almost lost all self control. It took all his willpower to not tear into the boy and just take him, take from him and make up for everything—

Henry held himself back, letting Bunny ease himself into it. And then Bunny moved his hips, and it started to feel good. Better than it should’ve.

Henry’s mouth was open, he inhaled sharply, as he felt himself slip slowly inside Bunny. They both were getting lost in the motions of it all. Every time he thought he had found the best feeling, the feeling that sent a shiver of pleasure through his body, their movements would change slightly… and that feeling would get even more intense. It felt almost as if they had truly become one whole and Henry had to force himself back.

It was a losing battle.

Bunny’s sounds were enough to drive him completely insane. How tight Bunny felt against him was enough to drive him insane. And his movements, in perfect rhythm with Henry…..

Bunny’s panting got louder and heavier. He was saying incoherent things, his sentences short but dragging, falling off his lips, nonsense words and phrases. The only coherent thing he said was Henry’s name— and how he said it. Henry couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe Bunny could ever sound so…..

It was like he was praying. Henry’s name on his lips was holy. Divine.

When Bunny said it, Henry felt something inside him begin to bloom.

This was no mere pleasure that he was feeling. This was something very different. Very different.

Bunny was praying to him like he was a god and that was enough to send Henry over the edge. The sensation of his name coming from Bunny’s throat— even if it sounded different than it usually did— it sent ripples of pleasure through Henry's body. And he knew it was not going to be long now. His body was growing too sensitive. He could feel it coming, growing closer every moment. And Bunny did too.

The blond collapsed on Henry as the passion got more and more intense. But he was still moving his hips, Henry’s name was still on his lips, and he was begging– what for, even he himself did not know. His hips moved, Henry’s hips moved, and then they were both thrust into a moment of pure, unbridled ecstasy.

Everything paused.

The pleasure bloomed and burst.

And then they melted together— rigidness turning to softness. Muscles taut, then relaxing. Soft sighs and whispers of sweet nothings.

Henry's breathing slowed, and he shuddered as the ecstasy passed.

He held Bunny carefully.

He couldn't move.

"Dear God."

Bunny kissed the corner of Henry’s mouth lazily.

“That was something, wasn’t it,” he chuckled.

Henry could not say much. He didn’t really know how to react, whether he should laugh like Bunny was, or shove him off and say goodnight. He was stumped. How could they go from what they were, to what they’d just become? How could it be that just that small movement of Bunny's lips on his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body when just an hour or so ago, Henry had wanted to choke him out?

"That… was…. something." Was all he could manage.

“Dear lord.” He said again.

Bunny collapsed into a fit of giggles as he rolled off Henry.

“You’re such a geezer. Who says that?”

Henry tried to laugh too, but it came out as more of a wheeze.

"Shut up." Henry groaned but his attempt to be stern was ruined by a few small laughs.

Bunny laughed too. And then he fell silent.

He thought about what he’d just done. And there was a strange feeling. He couldn’t pinpoint it— he wished they could be like that forever. But he also wished he didn’t love his best friend. He loved him. He loved him. He loved him.

He tried to shut his mind off.

Henry was not unaware of the silence that had descended upon them. He knew Bunny’s playful behavior now was just an attempt to brush off or dismiss the heavier realization of what they’d just done. Perhaps what they’d been building up to for months. Or even years. It was undeniable that for as long as they’d known one another, something strange had underlied all their interactions. Something both of them ran from, albeit for very different reasons.

But to be honest with not only each other but also their own selves– what more could men want?

"Do you regret it." Henry asked, staring up at the ceiling.

Bunny was quiet for a while.

“I guess I’ll know that in the morning.”

And if Bunny did regret it, neither of them would ever know, especially while they were still in Rome, where they found themselves wrapped up in each other every night or so.

#not my best smut but i tried <3 #i love exploring the absolute insanity of this duo tho #when one is a golddigger and the other is a repressed narc u kno the sex gonna be crazy #ok jk henry might not be a full fledged narc #ask requests #the secret history #bunny corcoran #tsh #henry winter #tsh donna tartt #winterbunny #asks!#ask #ask fic

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gregoftom · 1 year

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ok thank GOD we survived another week CMON TOM GIRL THAT’S IT. okay well here’s my tg two cents since i’ve finished the episode.

so here’s the thing. i seen a post or two really crushing their rs down to bare bones basic cynicism it’s only about what they can do for each other businesswise and i gotta say, kids could you lighten up a little? tom wasn’t especially nice to greg this episode or anything, but i don’t think he was like. awful? or anything? he’s exhausted and stressed ofc he’s gonna snap, and ofc he’s not going to like greg being distracted and not paying full attention to him when they’re alone together and he specifically made sure no one else was there. he let greg go to the funeral first even though we Know he feels safer when greg goes in to things like this with him [re: logan’s wake] and ofc he’s gonna need greg going to bat for him to mencken making sure to repeatedly mention tom and putting what he’s learned into putting tom forward and while i get that it can suck not to see some sort of appreciation towards greg i mean, was it really that bad?

did he throw anything at him? did he call him any cruel names? did he bully him specifically beyond what he might say to other atn employees? did he do anything from his old ways except for order greg around?

no. and see, tom is probably very insecure at this point. what does he have to offer greg, except his love? and where has he been before where his love has been rejected? where it’s not been good enough? where it’s not been respected? so he’s gonna order greg around bc he wants to give a show of, see i’m still your superior and i can still take care of you i promise!! even though they both know full well that greg outranks him by now. if greg reaches a point in power and prosperity rivalling or even surpassing shiv then, oh boy here we go again! i’ve got nothing to offer you but my love and it won’t be good enough, just like last time.

tom has all these grandiose ideas of romantic runaways, leave this life behind and come with me but regardless of everything going on, for him personally it’s not as simple as that. he doesn’t see a worth to the other person unless he can give them protection or give them something in return. with shiv i think he figured that great sex, being servile to her and helping her rise to power to gain his own at the same time is what kept it going. and then after that falls apart he has his love. but the type of love he wants to give is not what shiv wants or responds to i believe. that’s not a slight on her it’s just. i don’t see them being able to work at least not without a lot of personal and marriage therapy and like. i don’t think either of them would go for that. he also has these very traditional ideas of a relationship i feel, and the way that he justifies his feelings towards greg is to make a joke out of it, go along with the whole disgusting brothers bit [which personally i think is Only referring to them being each other’s wingmen in scoring, which is interesting considering what shiv said about it and how annoyed she got about greg, bringing him up by name so i’m not exactly sure how much “scoring” was done, at least with women lmfao] add a splash of internalised homophobia, etc. and i think shiv, understandably, due to her repeated experiences of misogyny pushes back against that.

hear me out. it’s actually GOOD for tom to act the way he did towards greg in contrast to how he did to shiv! mattmac has said COUNTLESS times that tom is afraid of shiv. we’ve seen him with a black eye caused by her [before anybody starts i KNOW he flicked her ear and that was NOT cool, but let’s not forget this] and mm commented on how he changes his voice to a higher pitch around her, both in servitude and in being afraid. he’s on eggshells around her. the balcony fight was the first time we saw that not being the case. yeah i get that it’s disappointing to see him backtrack slightly with shiv, be kind to her and not to greg. to see him have to get permission from her to do things like sleep in contrast to with greg, where his basic needs are just met instead of begged for. but he’s NOT backtracking with greg! he’s NOT reverting to previous behaviours with him! and he’s being his honest true self with him!

yes okay he’s snapping at greg! he hung up on him! he’s ordering him around! but he’s insecure; of course he is, he probably thinks greg will walk! greg has gravitated to power repeatedly, why shouldn’t tom be afraid that his feelings for greg aren’t enough to keep him loyal to him, esp when those feelings have not been enough before? yes greg has proven himself a couple of times but cycles and fears are hard to break! we already have “you’ll do it with matsson and not with me?” paired with “i want YOU gregging for me!” like, what more do you need? tom wants to present as still in control and at point where he has the right to tell greg what to do because he wants to show he can make good on their deal, not knowing that greg actually cares about him personally too [which we know for a fact because he goes so mf hard for tom and has done ever since the deal in 3.09. it is not just about gain and i think we can see that’s a fact by now. what leverage does tom have that he could maintain?]

i’m not about to say that the business side of their relationship doesn’t exist at all. i’m not about to say that greg will not use tom, or tom will not use greg. i’m not about to say there’s no negative or manipulative parts of their relationship. but to reduce it to simply this, is just not true. there’s much, much more to it than that. i guess i get a little defensive on this part bc i hate a mlm pairing being lessened to just a joke, or not to be taken seriously, or well pack it up guys, because it didn’t mean anything and was Only a way for the both of them to get ahead and that’s all it ever was.

nah. it wasn’t just that, sorry. and i know the show will probably ditch them, i’m not gonna say succ will let them run off into the sunset. this ain’t my first rodeo. i’ve been in fandom for like 17 years, i know the game, i know how it works. i know tom/shiv is probably endgame in the long run. but i’m just saying, y’all gotta stop reducing it to something so minimal when clearly the dynamic between them captured not only shippers, but general audiences around the globe. i guess i don’t like when ppl contribute to letting the show give it a back seat and give in to it trying to really demean it to less than it actually was. bc we know and THEY know that it was deeper than that. honestly i have a feeling jesse might’ve been held back by hbo judging by the scripts, plus we know there was a lot of shit cut for time, but i digress.

i’ve been saying this for a while now, but if tom and greg are still in each other’s lives in some way by the end of the show, there’s always hope for tg. they don’t have to kiss or declare their love. it’s not as though it’s never been done with a het ship before, take x files mulder and scully for example. yes i know they were eventually “canon” to the point they were in a relationship, but not for years! years! and even then at one point they broke up but were still in each other’s lives with the chance to find each other again and reconcile, which they did!

tom and greg just have to be able to reach other in some capacity, for it to be a possibility. and we have creators in the community to explore how that would work.

#tomgreg #SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG #but i'm. como se dice....... a lil bit pressed!!!!!#the show is probably gonna have me eating my words but idc i'll take the l. i'll be satisfied as long as i get the base i wanted #now to get some lunch and then continue w my next tg art wheeeee

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