#instead of letting things be where they stand. ANYWAY feeling grateful for those who

[zuyoo]

s-aint. yūta x afab!reader, ﹙외설﹚ drabble

CONTENT WARNING — college setting, mdni! suggestive content, mastermind yūta (real), mentions of onIyf4ns, jerking off, subtle pervy themes.

SYNOPSIS — wherein the classroom’s good boy, okkotsu yūta, finds out the quiet girl’s secret… your secret.

ZUYOO’S NOTES — ohoho dirty, dirty boy (i love him) p.s. click the “s” in s-aint to see the masterlist!!

given how much people ask for his assistance on a daily basis, how come you’ve never asked for his help? it was concerning, unsettling, suspicious even.

it bothered him to the extent that he tried to find any way to help you, and grabbed those chances every time he does.

you emitted an aura that entices him. as in… if you were in a crowd of people, he would immediately notice where you were standing. an aura that captivates him… like, a sense of familiarity?

“good morning, [name].”

“oh, hey! good morning, [name].”

“you’re early today, [name]. good morning.”

he greeted you with delight, every. single. day. asking you questions regarding your morning to lengthen the conversation. he could sense your hesitance at first, but you grew comfortable with it eventually.

he loved feeling a sense of responsibility. the concept of him being the “reliable” one excites him. though, being the only one people usually depend on is tiring. to why he could never be more grateful of his apartment, his safe space to be himself.

he finally gets his peace and quiet, his alone time, where no one can see and disturb him from doing what he wants.

it would be such a sight to see the class’ renowned saint just jerking himself off, on his bed, to a girl on social media… right?

what would he ever do if someone were to catch him moaning out a name of some girl he doesn’t even know and haven’t even seen yet?

he discovered an account called ‘kissnyx’ on a random frustrating monday, who would’ve thought that it would turn into an addiction? certainly not yūta, himself.

after forming a habit of scrolling through “nyx”’s account, he looked forward to getting home as soon as possible and finally being able to let out some frustration. it didn’t take long before the said habit turned into a hyper fixation.

yūta is simply lucky that he still has the right amount of dignity and control to keep up with his image in school.

yūta, as a class representative, is usually the one who arranges papers of the class; test papers, assessments, projects, and such. where he noticed your name. your scores in some subjects were great—the others were… below average? per se.

which is when he suggested to your professor to allow him to tutor you and get your grades up on your weak subjects.

being the saint yūta is, the professor agreed there and then. the professor immediately contacted you regarding the tutoring session.

the professor was about to do everything himself, the schedule and such, but yūta volunteered to handle it and asked for your contact so that he could contact you instead.

“my, my. you’re such an angel, yūta! well, now that that’s settled. you can check my class record for her contact number.”

“thank you, professor.”

he saw this chance to finally be able to help you with something without you asking for his help. and a chance to get closer to another classmate. he has an image to keep up, he needs to feel self satisfaction in what he does before he can actually rest.

not so saintly of him, right?

it kind of looked painfully obvious that he was desperate to help you, as if he liked you. but given that he helps everyone around him, people disregarded his action towards you since it was “the normal” for yūta anyways.

as per the agreement, you two only met for your tutoring sessions on tuesdays and thursdays. it felt awkward during the first few sessions, but it didn’t take long for the both of you to feel comfortable in each other’s presence.

this is also the time when yūta slowly notices the small things, the small habits that you do that is somehow constantly reminding him of the account kissnyx.

as much as he tried to disregard it, it bothered him. your very presence bothered him because it felt… odd? for some reason.

his gut feeling felt that the [name] he was getting to know isn’t really who you are… but that would be impossible, right? you’re too innocent and quiet. he couldn’t imagine you being someone like “nyx”.

like, sure… you have the beauty- and the body… that a guy would love. given how you dress up in school, no one really notices how beautiful you looked. but then again, you and nyx were two completely different people. maybe it was just his delusion.

it was obvious that you were covering your tattoos because it was against the dress code, so perhaps the tattoo you could barely cover with concealer that he saw in between your… defined… collarbones were coincidentally the same like nyx’s.

perhaps you both also coincidentally share the way you cover your faces with your hands when you’re flustered or embarrassed.

maybe it’s just a coincidence that your nails were the same colors as hers that one wednesday.

or that you both have a similar mole near your smooth shoulders.

sure, there were one too many coincidences, but he’s trying his best to not think of your face when his fingers were wrapped around his cock, stroking it as nyx’s moans can be heard in the background.

was it a crush? no… not really… right? but the thought of you possibly being the person behind his one and only favorite alter account…? fuck.

he felt so- dirty. thinking of his innocent, quiet classmate while he fucks his fist in his pitch dark room, filling it with the sound of his groans and slick from the constant pumping.

“shit- need y’… i need [name]-”

his actions stilled, even he was surprised by what he just said. did he just moan out your name?

his cock twitching from the sudden loss of friction but he couldn’t give a fuck less. your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly… too smooth to his liking. he knew that very moment that he wanted you with him… he needed you with him.

masterlist.

—rbs & comments r highly appreciated!!

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

#zuyoo ౨ৎ #workzuyoo ౨ৎ #s-triology ౨ৎ #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #yuta smut #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta smut #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta x you #yūta okkotsu #jujutsu okkotsu #jjk okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen okkotsu #okkotsu smau #yūta #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #yuta x reader #jjk yuta

[willaferrreyra]

okay but like, a fic where y/n works for kendall and is arguing with him for whatever reason and he kisses you in the middle of it?

honesty is such a lonely word — kendall roy x fem!reader

gif not mine

an argument breaks out as you help kendall prepare for his birthday party

851 words

contains: assistant!reader, strong language, kendall being an asshole, angst to fluff, happy ending :)

disclaimer: i do not proofread my work so please excuse any grammar mistakes/typos. i hope you enjoy! i really loved writing this request <3

You still remember the warnings that you received when you first accepted the job as Kendall Roy's assistant.

"He's a coked-up daddy's boy," your best friend remarked. "That's a recipe for an abusive working relationship, don't you think?"

And you took the warnings to heart. During your first week as Kendall's assistant, you were walking on eggshells around him, afraid that he would fly off the handle at the drop of a hat.

But he never did.

Kendall was a good boss, a great one even. Sure, he had his moments, but he always treated you with kindness and respect. He treated you like a friend.

Which is why you were surprised to find yourself in a quickly-escalating argument with him over something as stupid as his birthday plans.

"No, no, no. Say that again," he said. "What you just said, say it again."

"I said," you began. "That this party is screaming mid life crisis tech billionaire asshole. It's not you."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought you said. What the fuck makes you think that you can talk to me like that?"

An expression that resides somewhere between confusion and anger washed across your face.

You talked to Kendall like this all the time. At this point, you were more of an advisor than an assistant. You had gone to business school and you knew what you were talking about, so Kendall regularly consulted with you when it came to business. He respected your opinion and he especially respected how you were willing to tell the truth — even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

But none of that seemed to matter now. Now you were just an assistant who was expected to keep her mouth shut and nod.

"Ken," an exasperated chuckle escaped your throat. "I'm just being honest with you. That's our thing, I always tell you the truth. Do you want me to to start lying to you now just so you'll feel better about yourself?"

"Y/N, I don't want you to fucking lie, alright? Of course not. But I'd appreciate a little bit of respect, yeah? I didn't ask for your opinion on the party. Your job is to listen to what I want and to make it happen. Or is that too fucking difficult for you?"

And with that, you decided to stop being civil.

"Oh you want to talk about respect?" you retaliated. "Let's talk about respect. Let's talk about how this is no way to treat your goddamn friend."

Kendall's eyes widened at your use of the word "friend". You could've said assistant. Coworker even. But, no. You chose to say friend. Kendall didn't have many of those, not real ones anyways. Instead of firing back with another insult, he just continued to look at you, a lump forming in his throat. Was it guilt? Appreciation? Anger? He couldn't tell.

"I have stood by you," you continued. "Through your worst times. Your lowest of fucking lows. I've seen high out of your mind, I've seen you break down, I mean, fuck, I've seen you sick! I brought you soup when you had the flu! I've been here, not just as your assistant, but as your friend, and I will NOT let you stand here and talk to me like that."

Kendall continued to look at you, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to communicate just how grateful he was for all that you've done. Unsure of how to apologize. The fact that you looked so beautiful when you got angry certainly wasn't helping him come up with a coherent response.

He'd always thought that you were beautiful but something about the way you looked now, hair slightly out of place, sleeves rolled up revealing the dainty bracelet that you wore each day, chest heaving up and down as you breathed heavily. You were positively mesmerizing.

"Oh, the silent treatment. I see," you returned his gaze. "Fine, I'll just go review the fucking guest list then. You wi—"

Before you had the chance to finish your thought, Kendall's lips collided with yours. He poured everything that he was thinking into that kiss. I'm sorry. I appreciate you. Please forgive me for being a ridiculous asshole. And you felt all of it. Every single emotion he poured into you, you gladly received.

By the time he pulled away, you felt like you were drunk. Was the room spinning or was your pounding heart playing tricks on you?

"Ken, I-" you started.

He shook his head. "No, fuck, I don't know where that came from. I'm sorry. Sorry for the kiss and the fucking argument. That wasn't cool."

"You don't need to apologize," you reached out to grab his hand. "For the kiss, that is. I accept the apology for the argument."

He smiled and ran his thumb up and down the back of your hand.

"You're sure you won't be too embarrassed showing up to a party that screams mid life crisis tech billionaire asshole?"

"For you?" you laughed. "I’ll manage.”

#kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #succession #succession fic

[cannebady]

not attached to any person, place, or thing

NSFW Stolitz content below the cut!

AO3

The real fuck of it all, Blitz thinks, staring at his own shitty, leaking ceiling, some bullshit from Voxflix the only thing lighting the room up aside from the red light floating in from the window, is that he hates this thing with Stolas as much as he loves it.

The way that being a royal's fucking plaything grates on the dwindling remains of his pride, the way that being a means-to-an-end (favors for favors, that's all it was, nothing else) makes him feel like he'll never really get to the point in his life where he's valuable for being him instead of being something.

It feels like being used for convenience; not that he isn't doing the same thing to Stolas for the fucking book, but it's been different for him for a while, though he'd rather eat a bowl of angelic bullets swimming in holy water than admit it outside of his own head. Thinking about that just kind of reminds him that he is a piece of shit by nature and prone to even piecier and shittier tendencies when his fucking dick, or heart, or fuck forbid both get involved, so who is he to think he deserves something fucking else?

It's easy to think of the parts he hates if he wants to stay angry. It's easier to be angry. Because the other piece? Oof, that's where the real bullshittery begins.

Because there's another list, folded up deep and kept close to this chest, of the things he cannot fucking lose about this (it could, maybe, be called "The Big Fuck Off List of What I Love About This" but that word scares the shit out of him and fuck you for thinking he has to say it anyway), and thinking about that list makes him feel both the dick and heart things previously discussed.

Because he loves Stolas's fucking laugh. It's nearly a giggle sometimes and when he isn't trying to be a princely Goetia, he can really get himself going, sometimes in response to Blitz's jokes (and ohh fucking shit does that do dick stuff to him), and Blitz has to act annoyed and imposed upon when all he feels is lighter than he ever has, maybe, in his entire worthless life.

On the same note, he loves those stupid bird noises. Stolas will squawk, chatter, hoot, trill, and another sounds like whistles and barks that he only knows because he took the time to fucking look it up. In the full moon cycles when he was less focused on toys and dominance, he'd sometimes experiment to see how to draw out certain noises over others. He's made a study of it and he keeps track of every single little noise he earns. There's one among them that stands out, and it's the little hoot Stolas lets out when he's asleep, completely passed out because Blitz fucked him so good he literally couldn't be conscious anymore. While certainly earned with dick stuff, this one's all heart for Blitz. He can't even deny it to himself anymore.

Because Stolas is the kind of dad he wishes he was. He tries for Loona, he does, and he thinks maybe she knows that. Sometimes. But Stolas gives Via everything and Blitz admires him for it.

One time when the full moon had left them both exhausted between rounds, he'd asked Stolas about his daughter to fill the space and Stolas had lit up like an actual light source. It was beautiful to watch and the first time that Blitz's heart skipped a beat when they weren't touching. Then, as if to fuck him up worse, he'd asked about Loona and never qualified "daughter" with "adopted" and, when Blitz admitted how afraid he was to have Loona help on missions, responded with, "It's a father's prerogative to worry, I think. Surely you'd agree?" like the fact that he was Loona's dad was just a fact, and like they had the shared experience of parenting, and it was balm to an open wound that Blitz did his best to ignore having. He promptly distracted Stolas with his entire tongue, and if he made sure to make it a whopper of an orgasm for the bird it's just because he got off on that too. Nothing else.

He's heard the term sexually compatible before, but he definitely didn't understand it until they started fucking. Sure he needs to keep a tight leash on Stolas's beak because he's liable to unleash a torrent of unhinged horny drivel straight out of worst porn ever made in Hell if given a half an opportunity, but other than that? Blitz has never had a partner that gave him a run for his money in terms of stamina, variety, or intensity until this and oh cursed fuck is it good.

To put it plainly, the sex fucks. He may grumble about the full moon shit, and it does hurt something special that it isn't real something else, but when he has a decent day, and his blood is running high, and he gets to end it by scaling the wall of the palace to give Stolas a proper dicking down, it makes something like lightning spark beneath his skin and he feels like he's on top of the fucking world. Those nights are the hardest because it's 100% in the dick column of the issue, but the longer it goes on and the more Stolas keeps cheese and hot sauce stocked for him, and the more he offers a bubble bath because "You must be exhausted Blitzy, you worked all day, let's relax a while", the more it's starting to become a heart issue too which is approximately, precisely, where Blitz will typically fuck things up irreparably.

Last night they'd been nearing the end of their fourth round, both covered in sweat and come and probably Stolas's fancy as fuck rich guy feather oil (it's called preening oil, which he knows because he learned how to do it because aftercare and fuck you, also it smells like smoke and whiskey and some kind of fucking flowers and it's just a good smell, okay? Ugh, fuck you). Stolas was soaking wet, the feathers around his hole sticky and dark and plastered to him, but blood hot and tighter than sin inside (fucking how) and Blitz was somehow still harder than he'd nearly ever been because of bird noises, and sex noises, and the feeling of Stolas repeatedly losing his entire fucking vocabulary just because of his hands, and tongue, and dick, and suddenly he knew he was going to come in seconds flat.

He pinned Stolas's arms as well as he could with just his hands, looked into his eyes, and demanded "Come, now", and he didn't really expect it to work outside of shitty porn, but Stolas's eyes, all fucking four of them, went wide and brilliant, and he whimpered, "Yes, Blitz" (not Blitzy, not my little imp, not plaything, but his fucking name) and promptly came squeezing Blitz's dick so hard he thought it might come off, but he couldn't even care about that because he was coming, being milked fucking dry, and only biting back, "Fuck, I love you, fucking perfect, stupid, pretty bird" by rearing back and digging his fangs into the inside of Stolas's thigh.

They've done much kinkier shit, this was nearly vanilla, but it fucked Blitz all the way up.

So now he's laying on his couch in true sad bastard fashion, horny and depressed (thank fuck Loona is out for the evening), hand around himself as he remembers the good, the bad, the ugly, the heart, and the dick of it all, hard, leaking, and desperate even for his own touch as he replays on loop making demon royalty come on fucking command. It only takes a few mental loops before he's, somewhat shamefully, spilling over his own fist in a poor imitation of the previous evening, the act barely scratching the surface of what he wants.

And maybe, the real fuck of it all, if he strips away his lists and performative complaining, his problems, both dick- and heart-related, is that the only thing he doesn't hate about this bullshit with Stolas is Stolas himself. And isn't that just the worst case fucking scenario?

#helluva boss #helluva boss fic #stolas #blitz #blitzo #stolas x blitz #stolitz #stolitzo #my fic

[yanderelovlies]

What about the chubby y/n, who performs on a children's show, performing two roles? A funny clown for young children, who teaches safety to have fun, and the second show, where the sad clown y/n for teenagers, helps them with their experiences and the restructuring of the body, and so on. I will hope that you will answer , this is my own old fantasy, so I will be grateful if you don't ignore it (although do as you want, I like everything you write :)).

Mmmm so like two roles on the same show?? Let me take a Crack hun! I made this more fluffy comforting and with Joseph embracing the role of Jack a little too well in mind.

When you were first hired to The SunnyTime Crew Show you were supposed to be childrens entertainer. You were a beautiful colorful clown named Tiny Tatters. You knew of the irony of your name, but you couldn't complain when they were signing those pretty checks you needed to survive…..not they would listen to you anyway. Despite that little hiccup you quite enjoyed your job. You taught kids how to safely do tie dye art, and other fun crafts with clothes

However as the show progressed it oddly enough attracted a teenage audience along with a children audience. So as an experiment they made you play the side role of Patches. Patches was the twin of Tiny Tatters, and they never seemed to fit in with the others. So they were often alone, and were only spotted in Tiny Tatters Tailored Emporium when tiny wasn't there. The teens were quick to attach themselves to this character, and through little crafts, and hobbies they were able to teach the Teens good ways to handle emotions, body image, and acceptance. 

They children and teens were not the only ones attached to you it seemed. As some of your female coworkers have pointed out how Joseph likes to watch both of your bits off stage, a smile adoring his features. It was hard to believe those rumors until you caught him yourself one day. During your Patches role you had to look off to the side to grab one of your materials when you saw him. His eyes met yours shamelessly before looking away a blush dusted his cheeks as he chuckled. 

Your head was still spinning from that interaction as you undressed and washed off make-up. The day was long over and yet you could get the way he looked at you out of your head. He looked at you as if you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. You've never had someone look at you like that. Did he mean it? Or was it another sick joke? Honestly you were scared to find out.

Seemed fate other plans as you sat in front of your mirror in your little dressing room brushing out your hair when a knock came from your door.

“Who is it?”

“Ja-Joseph.” you could feel your breath catch in your throat. You don't know if you can face him so soon. You knew he would give you the answers to the scary question that has been haunting you all day.

However, you also knew you didn't have it in you to keep him standing out there. So shaky sigh you called him in. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually walked into your dressing room. Upon entering he couldn't help but smile. The room was entirely you from the decor to the smell. He liked it a lot. His eyes traveled down to you, and he watched your fidget with your hair for a bit. Seeing as nervous as he was put him to ease as he sat in one of the chairs behind you.

“D-did you need me for something?” making eye contact with him through the mirror was easier than looking directly at him. 

He watched you for a bit longer before he finally responded “yes actually.” He reached over and put his hand on your shoulder indicating he wanted to look at you directly. Nervously you turned to him as he left your shoulder. “I need you for this date I've been planning for the two of us….this saturday.” 

You could feel your jaw drop to the floor. He was interested in…actually into you. You wanted to accept, and throw yourself into his arms, but instead what came out of your mouth hurt both of you. “Are you sure….?”

You watch as his eyebrows scrunch, and his look goes from hope to worry “What do you mean?”

You look down as you feel your face burn with shame. “I'm nothing like some of our other coworkers….or the moms who come to visit you on occasion…surely you could do better?” You hear Joseph stand from his seat as he closes the gap between the two of you. He knelt down in front of you taking your face in his hands as his thumbs rubbing soothingly across your cheeks 

“You know sunshine you should listen to your own advice you give the kids….I think you're beautiful the way you are, and you're the one i want to woo and make mine.” he titled his head down so his red eyes met yours “If you let me.”

You weren't sure what came over you, but you pulled him into a hug and held him tight. This was real. He really wanted to go on a date with you….and possibly more. How could you say no?

“I would love to go out with you…” you mumbled into his shoulder hoping he heard you. He did and he could help but hold you a little tighter.

#sunny day jack #swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #x reader #yandere x reader #something's wrong with sunny day jack x reader #swwsdj x reader #sunny day jack x reader #joesph cullman #sdj joseph #joseph haberdae #joseph cullman #somethings wrong with sunny day jack joseph l #joseph x reader #joesph cullman x reader #joesph x reader

[eviesaurusrex]

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Faceclaim: Dakota Johnson

author’s note: And here comes pt. 3 but you can read it without reading pt. 1 & 2 (but you should because they’re there and begging for your attention). Idk how we got from “Not gonna upload a social media blurb bc my brain is stupid” to “Oh, here is pt. 3 of the social media blurb lol have fun”. I just don’t know but I'm vibing with it. And I'm sorry that those blurbs are always so long but I always get carried away while making them. lolthisnotme is your super secret instagram account! (yes, I was too impatient to wait any longer before putting this one out in the open)

pt. 4 is here

;

yourinstagram Thursday Throwback (it’s Thursday, right? Right?!) to March 15 of this year, when the hard and dedicated work of the most important human in my life was finally appreciated by the industry and rewarded for everyone to see. Still, I am so incredibly proud of the achievement of your dream, and I can’t express how grateful I am to walk next to you through the funny thing that we call life. I love you with every atom of my being, H. To more dust collectors for our bookshelves and dining table ❤️

[tagged harrystyles]

Liked by harrystyles, gemmachan, annetwist, jefezoff, sophieturner and 6,432,162 others | 99,798 comments

gemmachan The evening was magical ❤️

↳ sophieturner It totally was!

jefezoff It still feels like a dream

↳ mitchrowland It does, right? Where is the trophy standing currently with all the renovations you two started anyway?

↳ yourinstagram It’s now in the kitchen 😂 I may have put a cookie in it by accident 👉🏻👈🏻

↳ pillowpersonpp 😂😂😂

↳ gemmastyles “by accident” *wink wink wink*

↳ hsfan1 Their dynamics 😩❤️

harrystyles In comparison to you, the award is nothing, my darling love. You are my dream come true - you and our little bean. I love you two with everything I have x H.

liked by yourinstagram, annetwist, imsebastianstan, lizolsen and 6,668 others

↳ yourfan1 Get yourself a man like Harry Styles.

↳ yourinstagram I told you to quit making me cry! You know I can’t stop for the next 30 minutes, and we wanted to go to Starbucks because they have the new banana split thingy, and I’m craving banana. And now we can’t go because I’m an ugly, swollen, and red mess 😭

↳ harrystyles You are a goddess, darling. I’m constantly in utter awe.

liked by annetwist, gemmastyles, yourinstagram and 4,607 others

↳ yourinstagram H 🥺❤️

↳ hsfan2 your honor, that’s why I’m gonna die alone and with a bunch of cats.

↳ hsfan3 Alexa, where do I find a man as perfect as Harry Styles?

↳ ynandharry Alexa, play Forever Alone by Smash Into Pieces

↳ yourfan2 Anne Twist raised the perfect man and let my standards in men skyrocket.

liked by annetwist, gemmastyles and 4 others

chrisevans Could you please stop spreading so much joy and happiness? Think of all the single people who are following you! Like me! 🥲 (Just kiddin’, bee. You know that, I know, but I have to put a disclaimer under that before someone is coming for you - or me.)

↳ marvelbunch I’m still single, Mr Evans, sir 👉🏻👈🏻

↳ yourinstagram You are aware of the fact that Lizzy is still single? *wink wink*

↳ lizolsen You are aware of the fact that I can read?

↳ yourinstagram …ooops.

↳ yourfan3 😂😂😂

↳ chrisevans Oh lord. Harry, take her phone away, now!

liked by harrystyles and sophieturner

harrystyles Tending to my crying girl because the barista told her that the Banana Split beverage is launching tomorrow (not today), and the stuff is still deep frozen. Got her usual favorites instead, hoping she would stop crying. Does anyone have some tricks up their sleeves I can learn? I hate to see her cry.

Liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, yourfan1, ynandharry, paulrudd and 19,447,872 others | 354,209 comments

yourinstagram Love, did you mix something up?

↳ harrystyles … oh.

liked by yourinstagram and 3,525 others

↳ yourinstagram Oh, love 😂❤️ Thanks for distracting me from the banana incident 😘

liked by harrystyles and gemmastyles

↳ hsfan1 I don’t think he wanted to post it here 😂

↳ hsfan2 wait, does this mean Harry owns another account????

↳ yourfan1 Who doesn’t nowadays?

paulrudd Getting her usual favorites was the right call, man! Do you tend to her cravings?

↳ harrystyles I do! Do I? yourinstagram

liked by annetwist, hsfan1, yourfan1 and 78 others

↳ yourinstagram He does a perfect job with that ❤️

↳ paulrudd Well, then you’re good to go. Pregnancy hormones are just a nasty piece of 💩

↳ yourinstagram No shit, Sherlock. He had to deal with my uncontrollable sobs over a freaking decafed Banana Split Frappuccino - more like over its non-existence until tomorrow morning.

hsfan3 Harry is already the perfect boyfriend and soon-to-be dad, he will be the perfect husband and the perfect dad 🥹

chrishemsworth Do whatever she wants or needs, and everything is good

↳ marvelbunch Chris knows what he is talking about! Just like Paul. Harry is in good hands 🙏🏽

jefezoff He only is allowed to use the gram while being under adult advisory from now on.

↳ yourinstagram Guess, that’s my duty calling

↳ jefezoff Ha, good one.

↳ yourinstagram 😦😦😦

↳ yourinstagram the betrayal. The audacity.

↳ jefezoff Whatever.

↳ ynandharry Jeff is like the dad of the group, and he is already so done with it 😂

yourinstagram Ever since taking that pregnancy test - well, more like before that fateful evening - Dorothy is even more clingy than usual. Animals must have a sixth sense; that’s the only explanation I can come up with. But I don’t mind because I am, too, more clingy than I already was before all of these hormones went havoc inside my system. And with Harry back at home, we manage just fine. Lots of cuddly nights in with our favorite movies and my favorite purring friend right on top of me because I seemingly need protection from a cat who hates being outside in the garden.

What I wanted to say (before starting to ramble): It is okay to be different than before. It is okay to be more or less intense, more or less touchy, more or less happy or sad. That’s all part of the process, and don’t ever let anyone tell you that your feelings and cravings are wrong or invalid (especially from men). They can just go to hell. Thanks for coming to my couch talk.

Liked by gemmachan, annetwist, pillowpersonpp, lizolsen and 3,859,441 others | 66,020 comments

gemmachan 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

pillowpersonpp amen to that (and you look stunning, bestie)

↳ mitchrowland +1 because it’s the truth

annetwist Perfectly said, sweetheart ❤️

liked by harrystyles and yourinstagram

lizolsen 💯

yourfan1 It’s so true! The goddess has spoken!

yourfan2 every man who dares to judge a pregnant human can go to hell.

↳ ynandharry there is a special place down there for such individuals.

hazfan Dot is such a mood

sophieturner that’s my girl ❤️ and pregnancy suits you very well, love

pillowpersonpp H is probably relieved to not feel like the clingy part in the relationship anymore 👀

↳ yourinstagram Believe me, he is even more so than Dot - but I’m the Queen of clinginess from now on.

liked by harrystyles

↳ harrystyles I love your clinginess, darling x H.

liked by gemmastyles, yourinstagram, sophieturner and 999 others

whoisharry Look. At. Her. God damn it. She is perfection. A radiant goddess who carries my baby, and I still don’t know how it’s universally possible for one human to be this lucky in life or if I deserve it to begin with.

I love you, sunflower. I love you, little bean.

Liked by mitchrowland, gemmastyles, niallhoran, annetwist and 8 others | 4 comments

mitchrowland You deserve every single minute and every single ounce of it, my friend. Always knew you two would be each other’s endgame (but without the dusting before that and the unnecessary goodbyes) ❤️

gemmastyles Like Mitch already said you deserve it, Haz. You deserve every good thing fate has in store for you. The little bean is just the beginning. I can feel it ❤️

niallhoran Harold Harold Harold. Do I need to call your loving girl to tell her to straighten your head?

↳ whoisharry Please don’t. She just fell asleep after a hard time with the damn food 😞

↳ annetwist That is entirely normal, love. Don’t worry too much. Do you still have the tea I sent you?

↳ whoisharry Yeah. She drinks it every morning because it’s the only thing she can stand after the morning sickness (and the night sickness… and the day sickness)

↳ annetwist It will get better within the next weeks ❤️

↳ niallhoran She is a tough peanut, man. She will push through this as she pushed through your shyness to take the first step and say Hello

↳ whoisharry Haha 🙄

lolthisnotme I just woke up, saw this, and now I'm lying in bed, you are peacefully sleeping next to me, and I'm full-on sobbing. I'm gonna kiss you awake to tell you how much I adore you.

lolthisnotme I think I found my preferred lunch for today 🤤

Liked by imsebastianstan, gemmachan, pillowpersonpp, gemmastyles, whoisharry and 7 others | 9 comments

imsebastianstan Are you holding the pizza, or is the pizza holding you?

↳ lolthisnotme Depends on who you ask 🤓

↳ imsebastianstan So the pizza is holding you, gotcha.

gemmachan Mind if we share?

↳ lolthisnotme Nope. That’s mine. Find your own.

↳ gemmachan Mean.

↳ whoisharry It’s food. Don’t talk to her if you try to steal her food

↳ lolthisnotme Harry is a fast learner 😊

↳ gemmachan I sense a violent story behind that

↳ lolthisnotme 🙂🙂🙂

gemmastyles The toilet will be your best friend after that pizza, remember that.

↳ lolthisnotme I don’t care (I do, but I’m so hungry, heeeeeelp).

↳ whoisharry We could get you a nice sandwich on our way home? With tomato and lettuce and some good cheese ❤️

↳ lolthisnotme And a decafed Banana Split Frappuccino?? 🥹🤩

↳ whoisharry And a decafed Banana Split Frappuccino if that’s what you want ❤️

↳ lolthisnotme Okay, I don’t want the pizza. Pizza is disgusting. I want sandwich. Can I marry you?

↳ gemmastyles 🥹🥹🥹 My one true paring

↳ mitchrowland Don’t mind us over here. We’re screaming (and I volunteer for best man - Sarah wants to be bridesmaid, thaaaaanks we love youuuuu)

;

I hope you enjoyed pt. 3! Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

#harry styles fake social media #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles instagram blurb #harry styles au #harry styles social media au #harry styles fake ig #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles instagram imagine #harry styles social media imagine #harry styles fanfiction #soon-to-be dad!harry #dadrry #dad!harry

[mageofseven]

In honor of Asmo's birthday has the aftermath of Asmo's and Mcs surprise birth been written?

I mean, not prepared, but I'll write it now!

I don't often get requests for Asmo stories so I didn't really think about doing it till now.

Also, just so you guys know, I feel a lot better emotionally than I did earlier so I decided to finish this up!

So please enjoy~

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

MC woke up late the next day, still exhausted.

Half asleep, the woman took her phone from the stand next to her and started scrolling through Devilgram like she always did when she woke up

And saw that Asmo posted dozens of pictures of their son online.

Liam wasn't even a day old and already the demon has made sure the whole Devildom knows about him.

The human scrolled through and read the comments from each picture, or at least, some of comments. There were literally thousands of comments on each photo of Asmo and their son, saying a variety of things, but a chunk them were saying some pretty hurtful things.

A lot of people were guessing at who the Avatar of Lust's baby mama could be.

Some joked and said that even Asmo probably doesn't even know, that he's such a 'whore' that he probably doesn't know who he knocked up, but they left the kid on his doorstep.

Some said that whoever it is, they're probably a 'bigger slut than Asmo himself'.

Her boyfriend's followers have never really known her identify; MC gets enough attention in the Devildom just for being human and didn't want more eyes on her because of something her boyfriend posted online.

Still, their words hurts and suddenly the woman really needed her boyfriend's comfort.

Where was he anyway?

Earlier, while MC was asleep

Asmo woke up early, honestly too excited to sleep.

I mean, he was a dad. And to the cutest little boy at that! How could he not be excited?

Unlike most of the other brothers, he remembered where Satan's old baby things were and got everything up last night.

Liam was in an old green onsie (for now; this man is gonna make sure his son has the very best clothes 🥰) and had spent the night in Satan's old crib.

Speaking of which--

Liam starting crying.

Asmo strolled over and scooped him.

"Now now, LiLi, let's not wake your Mommy~" He smiled at his son, whose cries turned to happy coos.

"Oh you're just too precious!" He exclaimed, kissing the top of his baby's head.

This was it. Asmo just had to take pictures of this adorable, wonderful, incredible little being that was now his son!

This is where those multi-dozen pictures of Liam came from on Devilgram

And boy was his son's pictures going viral!

So many people were in awe of his baby boy and they should be! He's him and MC's son so of course he's perfect and beautiful and--

Oh. Oops 😅

He found comments from some of his brothers under one of the earlier pictures

Mammoney: Oi! what the hell is this???

L3V1:?!?!?!

Belphie: Ugh, what did I wake up to...

Lucifer: Asmo, my office. Now.

Asmo kinda told the realm before his brothers about his son. But oh well! What's done is done and in the end, his brothers will still love Liam even more than his followers!

Just as Lucifer's comment stated, the lust demon headed to his study with his son, ready to show him off to his oldest brother.

"We're here~" Asmo let himself in, not even bothering to knock.

He went over to the pride demon's desk and presented Liam to him.

"Look at this perfect lil man! From the cute curl on his head to his wings. Oh and those horns!" This man couldn't stop gushing over his son.

In his eyes, nothing and I mean nothing could be more precious than this little boy in his arms. Well, other than MC anyway.

Instead of interrupting the younger man, Lucifer let his brother go on and on about his new baby.

Unlike with other brothers, the oldest wasn't the least bit worried about this child being a trauma baby like how Satan was for him; Asmo was just way too trilled for that to be the case

And despite his confusion, Luce was grateful for that.

Once an opening presented itself, the older brother finally spoke.

"Asmo, can you explain to me just how this child came to be?"

"Oh come on! You know how babies are born~" The lust demon teased.

The man gave a tired sigh.

"I mean, who is the mother?"

Because honestly, Lucifer was in camp 'random demon hookup birthed it and dropped it off in a basket' or something like that, just like some of this followers online guessed

Because all these months, MC never showed a single sign of pregnancy to the pride demon so surely it could not be her, he thought.

"Ugh! Rude!" The lust demon frowned. "Of course it's MC's! I only focus on my Dolly now after all!"

Lucifer's eyes widened.

"How--Asmodeus." He looked at his brother sternly. "You should have told me when you found out."

"MC and didn't know." He shrugged. "Not till he was born last night at least. And isn't he the best little surprise!"

Asmo gave his son a little tickle, causing the boy to giggle.

"How did you not--" Lucifer shook his head. No, he supposed that was not important right now. "Asmo, have you seen the comments on the photos you posted?"

"Of course!" He beamed. "Every is talking about how they love LiLi almost as much as I do!"

"What about the comments starting on the 7th picture?"

The lust demon had clue what his brother was talking about. Eyebrows raised, he adjusted his hold on his son before pulling out his D.D.D. and putting up Devilgram.

There were some nasty comments calling him a whore. So what? Haters have nothing better to do so he's used to it--

That's when he saw the comments speculating about who his son's mom is and calling MC a lot of nasty names for having the Avatar of Lust's baby.

"What!" Worry creased though his face. "How could they say such things about MC! What is wrong with them???"

"By posting those pictures, you're letting the whole realm know your business." Lucifer explained. "It never used to matter much since it was just you and your brothers, but MC has made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with your online life. Now you're gonna have demons searching for her, putting her in the spotlight and potential harm, not to mention the fact that they all know your son's face now."

Oh no. Asmo honestly never thought of this.

"Devil, what should I do??" The man was freaking out now. Oh his poor Dolly! He didn't mean for this.

"For now, just delete the pictures or at least private them." Lucifer told him. "Also, we'll have to keep a closer eye an MC and any suspicious people who might come around the property."

Sensing the stress in the air, Liam starting crying.

Quick to attention, Azzy bounced his son and tried to make him smile. He has always been so good with kids so his son was soon comforted.

Lucifer gave a small smile at the scene.

Overall, he doesn't believe he has much to worry with his brother as a father. Asmo might need small moments of help every now and then, but the older brother had confidence that Asmo would be a great a father.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me asmodeus #obey me next gen #obey me lucifer

[martianbugsbunny]

To Convince You That I Love You (A Kalluzeb Fic): Chapter 3

*sheepishly* okay so I just forgot to post this chapter, the whole thing is a prisoner of the Notes folder but it's done except for proofreading/polishing. I'm very glad somebody happened to like one of the previous chapters today because otherwise I may never have remembered! Anyway, here's the next installment, read on and enjoy!

Zeb continued to pace once they were back at base. Kallus went into surgery immediately, what else was Zeb supposed to do? Hera had to give the mission report to the rest of Yavin’s leading council, and Sabine had gone to the mess hall to get food, but Ezra and Kanan joined Zeb in his waiting.

He knew he should feel grateful that he wasn’t alone...instead, he was annoyed that they were able to sit on the floor and meditate while Kallus, for all they knew, was dying.

He was very tempted to kick the kid as he passed by.

After a while, even pacing wasn’t enough. “He’s driving me crazy,” he started. Kanan opened his eyes and leaned forwards a bit. Ezra tried to keep his meditation pose, but his head turned towards the sound of Zeb’s voice.

“It wasn’t like this before, was it?” Zeb didn’t wait for an answer. “He used to be sensible—well, as sensible as Kallus gets. A couple months ago something changed.”

“Maybe he’s taking his emotions onto the field,” Kanan suggested. Kallus didn’t usually; his ISB training was enough to keep him from letting his feelings get in the way.

Besides, what could possibly have happened that not one of the Spectres was aware of? Surely one of them would have noticed if Kallus was being targeted by one of the many Rebels who loathed ex-Imperials.

“Maybe he has something to protect he didn’t have before.” Sabine offered her opinion as she entered, arms full of food. She kicked Ezra (lucky girl) to get his attention and handed him a bowl of stew. However irritating Yavin’s humid weather was, there were a lot of substantial plants to make food with, and swamp creatures for those who didn’t mind a tougher cut of meat.

Ezra only inspected his stew for a moment, to make sure there were no visible scales, before digging in. Zeb felt torn between wanting to eat until he couldn’t breathe and having no appetite at all. What was with him? He wasn’t like this most of the time.

Sabine shoved a mug of cold juice into his hands. “Has he been seeing anyone?” she asked.

Zeb felt the cold from the drink spike up through his hands, into his arms, heading directly to his chest. Suddenly he didn’t care about eating, one way or the other—he wanted to throw things, to swear, to dig his claws into a thick tree. Of course that was it. The most ridiculous, preposterous, insane thing in the galaxy and he believed it instantly: he loved Kallus.

The idea of Kallus loving someone else, loving someone else so much he drove himself to the brink of death to protect them, was painful. Only unrequited love hurt that much.

Zeb finally stopped pacing. A different kind of dread had settled into him, and he deeply wished it hadn’t. He preferred worrying about Kallus’s life to worrying about his heart.

When the medic came and told them that Kallus was going to survive, Zeb couldn’t help going in to see for himself, his relief that Kallus was alright the only thing stronger than the new grief overtaking him. He felt an ache of longing for just an hour ago, when his protectiveness of Kallus hadn't felt like an intrusion into a part of Kallus's life where he wasn't welcome; where somebody else filled the role Zeb only now realized he wanted with his entire being to fill himself.

As he watched Kallus sleep the unnaturally deep sleep of the injured and drugged, Zeb could only stand helplessly by as his desire to safeguard Kallus wrestled with the sinking feeling that he was utterly out of place.

#kalluzeb #garazeb orrelios #zeb #alexsandr kallus #kanan jarrus #Ezra bridger #sabine wren #star wars #Star Wars rebels #fic #chapter fic #🌟here is a gold star for ur patience #martianbugsbunny writes fic

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ SPEAK NO EViL ₎⁠₎ ~ CH. 2

[ a kylian mbappe series ]

SYNOPSiS ! it's summer break, where, yes, academic freedom ensues, but for stellar, upcoming young football stars, an unmissable opportunity springs. bondy elite summer academy prepares its youth for the professional world, and inevitably, everybody is hungry to succeed. girl or boy. life isn't kind to 18 year old kylian mbappe, and being mute seems to be a limiting factor of his progress. but once he's accepted into the football camp, he's determined to prove that his football speaks for itself. yet, in the midst of fatal determination and apathetic competitiveness, he doesn't expect to grow intrigue for [y/n], a profound player in the camp's feminine unit, whose kindness and exquisite skill awakens a visceral feeling within kylian, showing him someone else that he could love in a world filled with hate.

PAiRiNG ! mute!kylian x fem!reader | fem!reader x oc!boyfriend

A/N !  i would like to first sincerely apologise for the super long wait. life's been 🫨 but we move. i just love how i’ve written kylian and ethan’s relationship here 😭 like im over here shitting tears and scraping paints off walls cos they’re honestly too wholesome and the best brothers to exist (canonically and prbly irl but who knows?). brice and kylian’s bromance is BROMANCING, lemme just say; im very proud of the characterisation i’ve established for everyone tbh. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter! things get a little bit more yk 👀 so im very excited for you lot to read this hehehe. tell me your thoughts in my askbox, i’m very eager to know 🤍

SERiES MASTERLiST ! here!

TAGLiST ! [ ask here, those in bold i couldn't tag ] @sad1esgf @ts1mp0ne @fezlvr @ippid @kyksgirl @user6373738 @kenjekwownwjn @lalunaenamoradasworld @mywhimsyjournal @imagesthatlive @heli991113 @cinderellawithashoe

the moment kylian exits the car, he’s encompassed by a wave of thick disbelief. his eyes seem stitched to the grandeur building that stands before him; it’s all glass, glittering in the sunlight that bleeds incinerating heat upon the earth below, and it sends the boy into a frenzy. hasn’t seen infrastructure that screams money to such an extent.

he flaps a hand in front of his face, fanning himself, although rather futile. brice, from the other side of the vehicle, walks up beside him, crossing his arms as he leans on the door.

“wow… just wow.”

kylian turns to face him, arching an eyebrow, as he signs, “haven’t you been here before? moreover, many, many times?”

they’re in public, and as usual, kylian finds his throat go stagnant and brain go blank, so decides to use his hands instead. he’s ever so grateful for brice’s present at that moment.

“yeah, but,” brice exhales, almost wistfully, “it’s always better in person.”

“you’re right about that.”

kylian’s father rolls his suitcase towards him, dumping his duffel bag on top. a smile, a proud one, is ever present on his face, akin to kylian’s. he knows his father sees himself in him, has so much faith in him, and it’s a driving force of his purpose here. not just for him, but his whole family; a referral is the only thing that gleams in his conscience, knows that he mustn’t let the 5 weeks be in vain.

wilfried puts a gentle, fatherly hand on his son’s shoulder, a grounding gesture that speaks much to kylian’s mind. 

“do well, hm?”

“you mean, like i always do?” a cheshire grin fills his face, and it makes his father laugh.

“yes,” wilfried nods and chuckles, “like you always do, kylian mbappe.”

ethan materialises out of nowhere, hooking an arm over his brother’s shoulder. kylian almost pushes him off, but for the sake of goodbyes and farewells (for only 5 weeks, yes, but he’s never been away from ethan for even half of that), he tolerates his sudden attachment. 

“that hurt, you know?” kylian brusquely signs. ethan removes his arm as he returns a sheepish, “sorry,” before resting his head upon his brother’s shoulder. 

kylian exhales, then limply signs, “i’ll miss you bad.”

“it’s only 5 weeks?”

he looks at ethan incredulously, “only 5 weeks, you say? okay then. don’t call or text me at all.”

“you did not need to go there,” ethan’s response is deadpanned and immediate, making his older brother grin widely. kylian would definitely miss this. life will feel slightly sloped and discrepant without ethan’s constant antics, but kylian knows that his career comes with sacrifices, the most obvious one being stepping out of his comfort zone: the restricting boundaries that sees him remaining inert within the lines of local club football. 

bondy is the light at the end of the tunnel, and kylian just hopes that the journey would be worth it.

ethan snaps him out of his mental dally with a tight side hug, then he realises that it’s time for him to depart and register himself in. beyond a certain point, marked out by a blue roped barrier hanging from gold posts (a colour combination kylian would need to get used to for the next month and more, all in the name of bondy patriarchy), family members are prohibited, and so last words are to be said within the parking lot. 

“i will miss you,” ethan mumbles. evokes a smile out of kylian as he notices ethan’s hesitation, “believe me, i know.”

from behind him, his father urges him to go as a line of participants accumulate, and begins to feel the trepidation press against his heart.

“love you, bro.” ethan signs. his mind screams, ‘don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.’

kylian’s mind shrieks, ‘don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.’

“that referral is yours.”

masks a pained smile behind a light-hearted one, ruffling ethan’s hair as he received a glare back. god, he’ll miss ethan more than he fathomed.

“it is.”

then they fistbump, for the last time.

+_-

inside is cool and dry, differing from the hot, humid, sticky air outside that had clung feverishly to skin. the interior structure of the academy puts its external counterpart to utter shame. high ceilings, suspending blue-jewel-embezzled chandeliers, ribbons of gold and royal blue traced in half-wave curves along the walls that seem to be the only thing in this unfathomable-acred campus that don't  abide by the fervid colour scheme. kylian has never seen as many trophies in one glass cabinet (or, rather, walk-in closet; it is massive) as what just stood in the far corner of the foyer. 

“close your mouth, ky,” brice leans in and whispers, snickering. they are unlucky, having to join the right foot of the queue after spending a few extra minutes receiving last minute warnings and advice from their mothers especially. nothing with ill intentions, but rather harsh loving concern. 

kylian immediately shuts his mouth, flushed. brice grins wider, shoving a hand atop kylian’s hair and rubbing it roughly. he’s immediately slapped away and sent on his way with a pointed glare. 

“you're a heathen."

brice snickers, albeit loudly, "right back at you."

they're both taken aback as two boys right in front of them, identical twins they suppose because they look eerily akin, glance behind with looks of confused judgement. the exchange is swift and they turn to face ahead no more than a second later, before huddling close to the other, and swapping whispers. 

their thoughts, though internal, are vehemently blatant to kylian. from a retrospective point of view, he understands– it's as if brice had talked to thin air. he nudges his friend beside, and dejectedly gestures, "sign, please."

brice's understanding is immediate, and rather apologetically, he responds, "okay, sorry." 

"don't be."

they stand and shuffle down the line in silence. it's unlike brice to be wordless for such an extended period of time, but as for kylian, it's second nature. an hour passes, they've only progressed by half of the queue, and its obvious that brice is becoming restless. they haven't sat once, and although kylian had suggested he sit on his suitcase (it was undoubtedly big enough), he refused, saying that it wasn't strong enough to bear his weight. 

"you good, b?"

brice catches him a second too late in his peripheral vision, and asks him to repeat.

"i said, are you good?"

"it's like you're asking me to fight," brice signs humourously, "but yeah, i'm good. just… buzzing with every feeling you could think of."

kylian nods, but brice's words simmer properly, and he then realises what he had said, "every feeling? so you feel… angry, con-"

"why wouldn't i be?"

kylian's delirious, "why… would you be?"

he watches as brice glares at the boys in front of them, and he sighs, "i thought you would've gotten used to it by now, brice."

"you're my best friend— practically practically a brother to me. why would i just let it go, moreover, get 'used to it'?"

kylian notices how his signs get more rapid and hard to decipher. he has a habit of merging two words- subconsciously, he doesn't blame him- or missing out words entirely when he's angry. he stares more intently to understand his friend. 

"i get you. but you're doing more harm than good when you retaliate."

brice doesn't sign back, and huffs begrudgingly. they fall into a prolonged silence once again, and it takes another half an hour before the reach the front counter. 

"welcome to bondy academy! can i please have your names and factions?"

the receptionist is a young woman, probably only 3-4 years older than the two, with honey skin and honey skin and a frizzy afro. kylian looks at her gold-and-blue name tag and sees the name 'genevieve' written in bold black. 

brice gives her a friendy smile, "my name is brice tchaga and his," he points at his friend, "is kylian mbappé. we're both in elite. we’re both in elite."

she nods, typing their names into the computer before again, nodding affirmatively again. she slides a clipboard upon the counter with a pen, and asks them to write their signature next to their name. brice does so, and slides it to kylian, who looks at him and discreetly signs, "i don't have a signature."

"you don't?" brice's face morphs into one of subtle surprise as kylian nods his head. 

"just… make up one. or just write your name fancily, it's not that important here."

kylian is acquiescent, and as brice waits for him to finish writing, he looks up to see genevieve looking at them. her eyes, however, hold no malice, and rather watches them, smiling. 

"you both sign?"

brice's mouth falls agape, "you sign?"

genevieve chuckles, "yeah. my mother is deaf so i had to learn early."

by now, kylian's noticed the exchange between the two, brice turning to him for permission to share his reason. he gives him a look, and brice knows that kylian can handle himself. he's probably happy that he's found a common ground with someone who's not brice, even though she may only be the receptionist. 

"i've been selectively mute for a while, so i talk mostly by signing. brice here is my translator, i guess— wow, now i'm trauma dumping."

kylian is ever-glad that it's practically just the three of them in the foyer, save a couple of bustling workers who are too busy to notice them. 

genevieve laughs heartily, grabbing two gold lanyards from beside her before handing it to the both of them. 

"don't worry, you're good. those are your id and keycards by the way. you lose them, you have no access into your room for the next 24 hours."

kylian scrutinises his and makes a face when he notices the rather unflattering photo they had used. 

"you two are running late now, so i'll let you go," genvieve says. her face suddenly turns stoic, "my only advice is to keep your head down, not everyone here is as nice as i am."

"i did come here expecting the worst, to be honest."

"pessimist."

"i'm being practical, brice."

genvieve intervenes, "it's not all that bad. arguably the best football experience you'll ever have before going professional."

she glances at her watch, alarmed, "okay, i really have to let you go now. the conference room is through those doors, down the stairs, and then the first door on your right."

kylian smiles at her, and expresses his gratitude as brice does the same. she dismisses it with a graceful wave of her hand.

"i'll be rooting for the both of you," genevieve chides, then signs, "good luck."

hopeful and with spirits elevated, brice and kylian amble to the conference room. it’s capacity is just as expected, if not larger, occupied by gold-rimmed blue chairs which accommodate several other competitors, in 6 rows of ten. their entrance alerts those already seated, and a few turn around to take a glance. he wasn’t expecting to see all factions congregating simultaneously, observing the range of ages situated around the room. kylian feels the heat of anxiety nip at his skin, and as he and brice stroll to take their seats, he begins to feel nauseous. 

it’s only a few seconds later when a man, with salt and pepper hair and clad in a suit of a colour that quite frankly, kylian is absolutely tired of seeing and it’s only his first day, walks in. his aura of assertiveness is palpable, and as he, along with a few other adults, take their stand on the pulpit before them, the whole room falls silent.

a lean man, dressed in casual sporting gear and first born trainers steps forward, "all rise.'

a ripple of shuffling bodies and chairs permeates around the room. kylian observes his surroundings, analyses how he, along with brice, are one of the shortest boys in the elite faction. he grumbles internally at that. 

the same voice tells them to sit, and the audience obeys, then the room slithers into another deafening quietude. it feels as if it's prohibited to even breathe and kylian can sense his hands gathering with sweat. 

"good morning bondy," the same distinguished man from earlier pronounces, voice detailed with bass, "my name is jacob dubois and it is an utmost pleasure to have all 60 of you here; i hope the appreciation is reciprocated."

a few nods come from the kids around him and slight relief washes over kylian as he realises that they are free to move. 

"you all have been selectively chosen to come here. we didn't choose random aspirants, but ones who show passion, determination and most of all, potential." 

kylian's fingers tingle with excitement. he's here for a reason. 

"thus, we expect all of you to follow our ethos with pride."

formalities extend for more than half an hour, kylian feels his buttcheeks ache and has had to nudge brice awake numerous times. 

"did you not sleep?"

"i did," he signs back sluggishly, "this talk is always boring."

kylian can't deny that, shaking his head with a small grin. 

as the clock strikes 11am, an hour since they had entered the room, the director finally graces them with the technicalities of the regime itself. 

"your 5 weeks here will be filled with training, educational trips, end-of-week assessments and, most importantly, improvement. you're expected to be up at 5am everyday-"

murmurs erupt, mostly by the younger factions, and mr dubois brings a palm up to silence them. 

"-and curfew is at 9pm. anybody who is seen outside of their accommodation past this hour will be punished."

he waits for any objections, doesn't get any, and proceeds. 

"today is your first day of training. you'll first be taken to your rooms where your kit will be, then receive a tour of the campus. all factions will congregate in their designated parlour where their head coach will give itineraries, and tell you what to do next."

"who's ours?" kylian asks brice, and he shrugs, "dunno. i was asleep at that part."

rolling his eyes, kylian shifts his focus back to the man behind the pulpit. 

"i wish all of you the best, and may the best 3 get their referrals."

a round of applause ensues as the line of coaches upfront move towards where they were sat, and, kylian guesses she's the junior faction's head coach, a tall woman with blond hair orders the kids sat right at the front to stand. they leave the room with their rolling luggages and the rest move into hushed, murmuring chatter. 

"that was long for no reason," brice stretches his neck as he signs, yawning. 

"i know, but sleeping? i thought you said you got 8 hours."

"well, i could barely sleep for 5. my aim was 8."

kylian brings a hand to brice's head, pushing it down to his shoulder. 

"sleep for a bit, something's telling me we'll be here a while."

the boy snuggles in immediately, whispering a 'thank you', in which kylian just pats his knee in response. 

by the time they're summoned, it's been another half hour. kylian taps brice awake, signalling at the suitcase, grateful that brice catches on quickly. his stomach churns in hunger, yet knows they won't be eating for while. 

their head coach, kylian comes to learn, is coach moreau; dark-skinned, averagely talk with dark facial hair. he's not as intimidating as mr dubois, but both kylian and brice can smell his sternness from a mile away. 

"your rooms are on the other side of campus so we'll have to walk to get there. at the lobby, i'll give you your door numbers and you can find your way. please keep your keycards safe, you hear?"

they all nod, and some verbally express their affirmatives.

"good. let's go."

their amble is a good 5 minutes, and both boys, at the end, don't see the need of having a tour. they had passed everything they could think of, and they wonder just what more bondy could have. 

the accommodation is a sleek mini apartment complex, in kylian's words, and seeing as though it only seemed to have one floor, he's unsure if it'll fit all 20 of them. the main door is cut from space grey tempered glass and two security men stand mightily at the entrance, greeting coach moreau, shaking hands.

he then turns towards them again, "feminine and masculine units are separated. this building is for the boys and the girls' complex is behind this one."

kylian ignores the defeated sighs that come from a few boys in front of them as brice glances at him.

"get settled and dressed in your kits by," he checks his watch and gives a reasonable time, "12.15. do not wear your boots indoors, at all, so please keep them in the string bag we've provided for you. let's start rooming you lot."

pairs of names are stated with their room number and little by little, the group breaks off. kylian and brice's names come last, and they are given the number 5b.

they move towards the elevator, waiting for it to come back down. the metal doors slide open and they shuffle inside, kylian just about catching the sight of the girls leaving as the doors shut again. 

brice releases an exaggerated sigh, "i need sleep."

"we've got a whole day ahead of us, if you're able to, you should buy some lucozade at lunch."

brice shakes his head, "i stay clear of those things, mr addicted-to-energy-drinks."

kylian huffs, throwing his hands in the air, "i'm not addicted, i just have one a day."

"have or need?"

kylian throws him a deadpanned look as the elevator opens, giving him the middle finger. brice snickers and follows him out, both looking at the doors they pass for their room. they reach the end of the corridor before finding it, and brice uses his card to open the door. 

"holy. fucking. shit."

brice drops the handle of his suitcase, rushing in like a child gone feral at a candy shop. kylian rolls his eyes as he picks it up, but then freezes when he notices the interior. 

the entire space as soon as they enter, is an enormous area of the living room. it's just about bigger than brice's own bedroom back at home (which, in turn, is much larger than kylian's) and everything feels too fresh to touch. a colour scheme of dark grey and white occupies the space, a large bondy logo  stuck on an empty wall in dark blue. 

"i'm surprised they didn't dump a bright gold sofa here," brice teases, and kylian hums in agreement, "with you on that one. i'm getting tired of seeing those colours, i swear."

brice opens one of the doors, notices that it's the bathroom, then closes it again. 

"restroom?"

"yup."

brice goes to the one not far from the one he had just opened and storms inside screaming, "dibs this one!"

that triggers kylian, who runs to the room, completely astonished at the size. there's no way in hell that the other one's bigger. 

brice jumps back first upon the bed, closing his eyes in bliss, " 've missed these beds."

kylian leans on the door frame, watching his friend in faux disdain, "didn't even give me a chance to fight for this room."

"it doesn't work like that, ky."

"you're sick."

he moves back upright, walking to the room beside brice's, and is succumbed by shock. 

just what more surprises does bondy have?

his room is marginally larger than his friend's, a large king sized bed, protruding outwards from the wall situated to his right. a white desk sits near the window, which overlooks the bondy campus, and beside that, a white-washed timber wardrobe. 

he grants brice the peace of mind at the moment, smirking to himself, and shuts the door quietly as he moves into the room. on the bed is a navy blue string bag, and kylian picks it up. the material is light yet sturdy, feeling the thin material of his kit inside, then he tugs it open. 

the attire is navy blue, with one thick gold stripe running vertically on the left, the crest sitting right on top. he smiles warmly as he turns it around and sees his surname etched in gold as well. there's no number. he's the number 7 in his club, and knows he needs to prove that he's worthy of it here. 

he changes into his kit and glances at the clock. it reads 12pm, and kylian exits his room to retrieve his case just his friend does the same. 

"i feel expensive," brice chides, kylian agreeing. he's also clad in his kit, everything completely identical apart from the name scribbled on his back. 

"we only have 15 minutes to unpack," kylian informs as brice wheels his suitcase into the room. 

"i probably won't do all of it– only half."

they both sort out their wardrobe, almost getting carried away as brice barges into kylian's room telling him that they have 2 minutes to spare. they decide to take the stairs this time, woe betide them they leave their keycards, and reach the lobby just as coach moreau gets there too. 

through the glass door awaits the feminine half of their faction, already socialising as a group, and kylian feels his chest dip. he tries not to think about it too much, afterall, he has brice, and it'll be very unlike his friend to ditch him for someone else during their say. 

coach moreau moves them outside before talking, "we'll begin the tour down the south wing- here- before moving towards north. i hope all of you are ready because this campus is big."

brice leans into kylian and whispers, "you don't say." kylian breaks into a smile, pushing his friend gently. 

during the hour the spend walking- walking!- around bondy's grounds, kylian's brain overspills with information that flies into his ear and out the other. salvages as little as the fact that south wing consists of their dorms, from junior to elite, and leisure spaces whereas its north counterpart inhabits the main and training pitches, every type of hall you could think of, separate parlours for factions to bask in and the canteen. 

brices legs are completely spent, kylian's no different, and once they make their way into their designated space, brice wastes no time to sit on the blue settee. 

"okay everybody, take a seat," coach moreau's voice comes from behind the bunch. they all find a place to sit as the man stands at the front. 

“since i’m sure not everyone knows each other here, we’ll do short introductions. you can state your full name if you want, and what club you currently play for,” his eyes scan the room. the passion is definitely there, that’s undeniable, and coach moreau can see more potential than he ever has. “football is not just about skill and playing, but forming relationships with your teammates, as well. remember, bondy is competitive, but do not let it get to your heads, okay?”

a chorus of ‘yes coach’ follows, and he smiles at the teenagers before him. kylian’s brain seems to go stagnant and he feels scorched all over. he hadn’t planned for this, isn’t prepared. brice looks at him, silently asking if he’s okay, but he doesn’t find it in him to respond. before brice could initiate his concern, verbally, their coach is speaking again.

“alright, we’ll go clockwise, i’ll start; i’m coach moreau and i’ve been coaching here for about 20 years now. i’m normally accompanied by coach lambert, who teaches the feminine unit, but she’s been off for the past few hours. she should be back for training later today.”

the next boy starts to speak. he’s tan skinned, with dark brown hair that’s completely shaved into a buzzcut, “i’m zion saez and i play for l’aigles.” 

the girl beside him shoots him a grin, and he returns it. if anyone present was any dumber, it would be unknown that they’re a couple. they try to be discreet, but their fleeting, prolonged touches sell them out. 

“i’m [y/n], and i also play for l’aigles,” zion’s girlfriend states after. a girl beside her begins her introduction, and before kylian could fathom, it’s his turn. he doesn’t speak- for god’s sake he can’t- and the silence is nibbling at his ears. 

“boy, it’s your turn,” coach moreau’s voice penetrates into the room. everyone’s staring, their eyes dig into his skin, and he brings his hands up to sign. he’s shaking, but hopes that brice can determine it good enough.

“i’m kylian, and i play for loc.”

no one makes a sound afterwards, and his heart collapses in on itself. coach moreau looks at him, his eyes speak of something he cannot understand, then a voice comes from his far left. 

“can you not speak?” his tone is almost degrading, and the humiliation that permeates through kylian is an understatement. 

“he’s mute,” brice seethes, “there’s no reason to be rude about it.”

the boy doesn’t respond, staring at brice with his face crumpled in scorn, and kylian nudges him to let it go. an expectant, yet awkward silence commences, and kylian has to nudge brice again, knowing that in his state of anger, his self-awareness is absent. 

“brice. i play for toc too.”

coach moreau’s gaze interchanges between zion and brice, then he says, “what i said before isn’t a joke. football is about respect, and you’re taught that from early, or am i lying?”

there’s no reply, and he repeats himself, louder and miffed, “am i lying?! zion? brice?”

a collective, murmured ‘no coach’ comes from the both of them, and coach moreau hums. 

“i’m glad i’m being heard. let’s go to lunch.”

+_-

their first training session succeeds after their lunch break, in which the meal was a simple plate of pasta, but kylian had to get seconds. the more bondy surprises him, the more he thinks there’s a catch. privilege cannot come so effortlessly and also have him running scot-free; he leaves that thought for his future self, though. 

coach moreau has gathered them at the centre of one of the training pitches, with the feminine unit on another with coach lambert, after an exertive warm-up and drills ensemble. 

“i feel like i’ve played a full 90,” brice complains to kylian as he stands beside him. his friend pats his shoulder apologetically.

“since it’s your first day, i think a good game of 5-a-side will really establish the skill we have in this team, don’t you think?”

a cacophony of excited cheers and hollers come from the boys and adrenaline finally pumps within kylian. 

“team one will have…” he scans his clipboard, “brice, joel, kylian, rafael and kody. the rest of you on team two, get yourself some green bibs, you’ll be shooting to the goal on my right. let’s get going boys.”

kylian and brice get in position as they wait for the opposing team to situate themselves. once they do, the game begins with the shrill sound of coach moreau’s whistle, and kylian is already dashing for the ball. it’s passed to someone else on the green-bib team before he can reach it, and as brice is closer, he’s able to tackle it off the boy. he passes it back to kylian, who makes a run for the goal.

his speed gives coach moreau whiplash, he has never seen such like it; it’s almost an art to watch, elegantly swift and gets faster with every metre he runs. he circles kylian’s name and goes back to watching the game, just quick enough to notice zion barge into kylian with such vigour that he tumbles out of the pitch. he pushes his whistle between his lips and blows it forcefully. 

everything happens with hastened velocity. kylian is quick to regenerate himself, standing up and immediately shoves zion’s back with all his strength. his sides throbs with a dull ache from the collision prior, yet all he sees is red as zion’s face comes uncomfortably close to his, lips stretched in a sickening smile as he taunts kylian. 

“what are you gonna do, huh? you can’t even talk, you fucking freak.”

then he’s dragged away by coach moreau before his fist can even come close to zion’s cheek.

#work de aechii 🫧 #speak no evil.km 🙊 #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe romance #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe drabbles #kylian mbappe headcanons #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #kylian fanfic #kylian x you #kylian mbappe oneshots #mbappe x reader

[mylittleredgirl]

Last year I left my lawn till late because some wildlife orgs had advised that leaving it a bit later into spring is good for all the insect life. Of course, my neighbour assumed I was horribly sick and unable to move for making such a grievous grassy error that he went did it for me. Apparently it was an eyesore! I wasn't sure if i should be touched at the freely given neighbourly help or just offended at the slight upon my poor maligned grass patch. Neat lawn people just freak me out. He does his in the middle of rainstorms and I get horrible visions of those cartoon characters who electrocute themselves and you can see all their bones.

oh man!!! i know that feeling!!! a bunch of my lot was ripped up one year trying to find a broken water line, and so instead of grassing it over i bought a mix of wildflower seeds to try and grow a meadow along one side of my property that i thought would be a very pretty surprise for everyone in late summer. i live in a small town in a rural area with no HOAs or anything, but there are a lot of retired men on my street and Lawn Care is a major hobby. there is GREAT long-standing debate over The Right Mower Height for the best looking grass... and so on.

and they kept mowing my meadow down!!!

it was with such good intentions -- and i felt soooooo guilty for not mowing the REST of my lawn that was actually grass -- that i didn't know how to ask them to stop until the damage was done. and now they're always commenting on how that area is "just weeds" YEAH I KNOW MAN!! those aggressive bare-earth pioneer plants are gonna take over if you don't let my flowers grow long enough to seed!! no going back now!!

at one point i told some neighbors that i felt really bad for being the neighborhood embarrassment and they were like what? no you're not? and anyway i win because one of my neighbors is a huge huge dick, and it pays dividends to be as sweet as possible and act very grateful even when my neighbors overstep.

my current issue is the neighbor who always gives me the worst home care advice and really thinks he's helping me by cutting up rotten wood and stacking it on my woodpile while i'm at work, where i then have to burn through it to get to anything else, but he doesn't really take in social cues and he lost his wife and desperately needs to be of service to someone At All Times, so the truth is that sometimes the thing i contribute to the community is to be the neighbor who graciously accepts help even when it's not helpful.

#chatter post #anonymous friend #i am convinced that ride mowers are a form of meditation that's acceptable for men #bad for the environment but probably good for their mental health #people around here have a lot of property to mow so it really is hours and hours #my lot is only a quarter acre so i should just mow it instead of spending stupid amounts of money paying someone else #to tear around and cause all kinds of damage and mow over some actual garden beds with their speed mowing. ugh. #but i bought a lawn mower and never used it so i think that theory has been fully tested

[everythingstardewvalleydd]

Shane Headcanons: Part 1

Early Game: From the beginning, the farmer approaches Shane with the same persistent friendliness as everyone else in Pelican Town. It doesn’t take long for this to wear on him. It’s clear she’s determined to join the community and even though he barely participates and snaps and complains his way through every interaction, she just shrugs it off with a nonchalant smile. No matter how serious he is about it or how cutting the remarks, she just gives him that iridium-plated look and stops by again the next night to have the exact same conversation all over again. He knows he’s not being singled out — she makes a point of talking to everyone in the saloon every time — but something about her refusal to let it go is especially grating. He considers avoiding the place altogether, but what else is there to do in a town like this after dark? He grits his teeth and keeps on.

Two Heart Event (Fall, Year 1): This irritating, inescapable quality is the main reason Shane doesn’t bother trying to get rid of her when she stumbles across him on the dock in Cindersnap Forest late one night. In that down moment, he doesn’t have the energy to put toward his usual hostility, so he takes a different approach instead. Maybe if he lets her behind the wall, she’ll finally see him for the person he is and drop this obnoxious get-to-know-you game. As an outsider, who cares if she knows anyway? Give it another six months and she’ll be gone. To his surprise (and mild annoyance) the Farmer doesn’t back away from anything he says though. In fact, she takes the whole thing in stride. No pity or platitudes. No fixing... Just sits with him, even chugs her beer at the perfect moment to make him laugh. She’s weird… maybe as weird as him. But he’s grateful for that strange night all the same.

After their conversation at the docks, the Farmer keeps turning Shane over in her mind. She’ll be out watering crops or foraging in the woods, trying to figure out wondering over the details. It’s not a romantic fixation — the guy is clearly a mess, ya know? But something about it was familiar. Too familiar. Everything Shane describes is where she’d been before coming to the valley – standing at the bottom of that pit, too tired to even look up. Hopeless. Empty. Alone. And the parallels don’t stop there… It’s all of it, right down to Joja. They were both broken by it. They’d both taken a risk in walking away. They’d both escaped to the valley. To family, who built safe havens for them in all the ways they could. And then came the sticking point. As much as they were the same, there was one major difference. When the Farmer fled that life… she really had escaped it. Getting off that bus was a clean slate. A new beginning. But that wasn’t true for Shane. Joja had followed him here, plaguing his reprieve. All the beauty of Stardew Valley was poisoned by their presence. This gives her new compassion and respect for his situation and forms something of an unexpected bond between them. She says none of this, but keeps tabs on him and makes him smile where she can. 

As time goes on, the Farmer and Shane become tentative friends. Eh, friends is a strong word. They become a bit more than acquaintances. Let’s go with that. There’s an unspoken bond, but Shane is Shane and the Farmer is busy as hell. She starts diverting energy toward new farm ventures and her rapport with the town grows to the point that she’s able to relax in those relationships. She still drops in the Saloon, but not as frequently – just when she’s in the area and once on Fridays to make the rounds. She continues to think about Shane and hope he’s okay, and he continues to feel both at ease and irritatingly exposed when she’s around. They don’t talk much, but what’s there is solid.

Tangentially, that night at the docks also strengthens the Farmer's (already strong) resolve to drive Joja out. They don’t get to do this to people anymore. They don’t get to poison this tranquil town too. And with so many community-minded people around to help, she doesn’t want to worry about Joja’s influence anymore. Before, she was focused on getting her own feet underneath her, but that night reminds her that there’s also a larger picture and for the first time in a long time, she has the capacity to do something about it. 

Four Heart Event: Following canon here, but the Farmer stays briefly afterward (since the scene ends mid-interaction) to make sure Shane’s as okay as possible and encourage him to talk to Jas and reassure her as much as he can while being honest. The whole thing serves as a reality check for the Farmer, who’s more deliberate about her friendship with Shane after this. She still doesn’t see the point in sharing her own past and stays in a purely supportive role, but when she sees him, she takes the time to figure out how he really is (discerning when he doesn’t say) and tries to lift him a little when he’s low. That early attachment holds true, as hard as it is to watch at times.

#SDV Shane #Stardew Shane #SDV #Stardew Valley #headcanons #aka full fanfic evasion tactics #as I do NOT have time for another longfic in my life xD #more on this later #fanfiction #ainulindaelynn

[napo-leo-art]

This is an unfinished and largely unedited fic I was writing about Levi's first time with Danny where (for some unknown reason) I decided to make a rule where I could only write it while drunk (idk if this was an exercise in seeing what came out when I was drunk or if it was ~*method writing*~ or what, but idk if I can finish it and I sure as hell cannot read it loool

Anyway Word Count: ~3300 words Rating: E Pairing: Herald/Levi (Sidestep) Warnings: I honestly have no idea, I didn't read it

"So..." Daniel swallows, finally aware that he's standing with a half-naked man on the verge of what might be a breakdown in his arms. "Do... do you want a drink or something?"

Levi wants to laugh. Levi wants a smoke, or a whole pack. He wants to tear Daniel's clothes off and take a bite of him, maybe sink down on his knees and see how far down his throat Daniel-Danny can go.

"Yes," He says in response. It comes out on an exhale, Levi's body kick starting him back to life with a little jolt. His foot sweeps forward and bumps into one of Daniel's, and only then does he realize he was checking for floating. No- Danny-Daniel's really that much taller even with both feet on the ground. Not as tall as Ortega. Neck probably doesn't hurt as much when he bends down to kiss Levi, which he's done more than once since they've got here, but it still makes Levi's stomach clench to think of how they must look together- the Golden Boy and the Has-Been, and at least his long legs keep Sidestep from looking too small in photos. Next to each other, though...

Maybe it would be better to put Danny on his knees. Or on his ass more likely, leaning back onto his hands, head tilted until that bright hair has fallen off of his face, and his face hidden between Levi's thighs...

"Levi?" Fuck, now that he's heard a hint of the accent, he can't let it go in his mind.

"Hm?" He asks, before he thinks about the fact that he's still clinging onto Danny, who has acquiescently kept his arms just as tight- not because he thinks Levi's too weak to hold himself together apparently, but because Danny *likes* it, and he's going to keep doing it as long as Levi actually lets him. Levi feels like he's flicking treats to a dog, which is a mean way to see Danny but god, isn't it accurate?

For a moment he's hit with a poetic thought: that the heat he's feeling is from basking in the warmth of feeling so *loved*.

He squashes that feeling back where it belongs, into the overflowing trashcan of his mind. Fuck, he's so drunk already that Danny might really just be holding him up with his arms.

He doesn't let Danny let him go, no- he holds those arms firmly in place and twists in their hold, turning back towards the kitchen counter and using Danny's glass for the both of them. His own glass lays abandoned on the floor where he *threw* it, and even that didn't scare Danny away. And that means that feeling bad about this really is meaningless, because Danny has already seen at least half of the nasty, ugly, *wrong* things about him, and he's not pulling those arms away or telling Levi to leave. Levi could push him off the deep end right now: '*I'm Retribution, I broke your leg, and I LIKED IT.*'

Instead he fills up Danny's glass, too full, more than is appropriate. But why the fuck do they make whiskey glasses so big if you're not supposed to fill them to the top? Why is Danny's hair so soft if not to grab it, why are his lips so plush if Levi's not supposed to kiss them?

When he spins back around to Danny with drink in hand, he's not sure if the drop in his gut is anxiety or lust. Really could be either. Both. Dr. What's Her Face has heard a little bit about his sex life or lack thereof because *he* brought it up, dumb asshole, and she says that he should take that twist in his gut as the fear it is but really, he hates fear but he's learned to like whatever *this* is.

Danny doesn't ask if Levi's okay, for which he's eternally grateful. Levi can only just *feel* the intention of the question buzzing at the front of Danny's mind.

"Pretty big glass you've got there," He says instead, still unsettled but now at least Levi isn't crying and *oh,* Levi's taking his jaw in his hand and so gently pushing the lip of the glass between Danny's plush ones, pouring a little more into his willing mouth. He's a little clumsy with it, little streams of the expensive stuff seeping past the corners of his mouth. Levi pulls the glass to the side and this time when he pulls Danny down, he licks the liquor from his face. It's so gross. Levi's just gross. He can still feel how he's exciting Danny, so it looks like it's working. He takes a swig from the glass and swallows with effort before his lips meet Danny's again, the smoky-oak flavor passing between them.

"I want *you,*" Levi says then, letting his voice dip into its huskiest tones. Smoking and boozing has fucked up his voice a little, but is that really so bad? He tries to immitate that throat rumble when he's John but he just *can't*, and it feels so good to have one goddamn thing that this body has over his puppet.

If he bothered to peek past the booze, he'd find that this body only makes him feel stupid when he tries to tease. But he'll let that thought lie where it fell, because he can *feel* the way Danny pushes his hips forward, seeking contact.

He can feel Danny's clothed cock bump his lower stomach. Fuck. *Fuck.*

"Oh, just that? I can give you that." Danny says with a grin. Correction, Levi's telepathy provides: he would love to give you that, *please.* He's even letting his hands trace the hemline of Levi's pants, a hint about what he wants before he even opens his mouth again. "May I?"

Normally Levi would refuse. He only knows his normal because the idea of this has plagued him for months, and in ten fantasies out of ten he was coaxing Danny not to float as he sunk his mouth down to Danny's base and took him all.

But tonight he's too busy marveling at the way his body is happily, enthusiastically responding to Danny's closeness and '*ah,*' Levi thinks, '*that's what it's supposed to feel like.*' He's so turned on already that he can feel the slick of his wetness coating the inside of his thighs. His legs shift together, trying to alleviate it, hoping for- god, why hide it? Hoping for Danny between them, whether it's his hand, his face, or his hips. Doesn't really matter.

"Go for it." Levi says, but he's still surprised when Danny yanks him up onto the counter before his trousers come off. Nope, not just trousers. Underwear too. The marble is freezing cold against his ass but hey, kitchen counters are the perfect place to eat. He's going to deny that sound later, the sound he makes when Danny coaxes his legs open. He'll edit it right out of the clip he's made of the noise *Danny* made, and he's not sure Danny knows he made it or that Levi heard it. He knows how to do *this,* he's just never done it with a man before, and that thought fills Levi with equal measures of jealousy and comfort up until Danny bends to kiss his thigh and everything, everything else goes away for just a little moment.

"This is my first," Levi gasps when Danny's thumb creeps over to slide along the line of a scar on his thigh, not because he wants to share it but because it feels *important*, and because Danny is apparently the sounding board for every stupid secret he's had. '*Why not talk about the threesome dream while you're at it?*' "...time."

"I better make it *really* good then," Danny laughs, not at Levi but just because he can't believe this is happening, his face heating further when Levi's hands find a good grip in his hair, which is just as soft as it looks. And Levi's hands feel it just as well as he sees it when Danny fully dips his head between his thighs and... *damn.*

His throat clamps automatically against his first moan, and every one after that is a little easier, caught behind the tight press of his lips. He grabs the glass of whiskey and takes a full gulp of it.

Danny's tongue traces up the slit between Levi's legs twice before it pushes a little further, before one hand slips off Levi's thigh to spread him open. His only sounds are gasps and sighs. His body tells a different story: tightened grips on Danny's hair, twitching muscles, a bottom lip clamped hard between his teeth.

"Fingers," He demands, because all this is already so much without having to ask nicely, and because even at home alone he wants it like this, fingers pressing up against his g-spot.

Danny obliges with just one at first, and that's enough. Levi sees more than senses what Danny wants: himself, legs wrapped tight around Danny's hips as he buries himself inside, every thrust deep...

It feels better to think of this all as what Levi wants. Being wanted is *hard*, being wanted feels *wrong*, and so in his own mind he imagines Danny pressed back against the sheets, Levi fucking down against his straddled hips.

"Oh fuck," Danny whimpers, finger still buried in Levi even as he butts his head against Levi's hip. Levi didn't mean to push the idea out, but it's already out there before he knows it. And he knows that it barely matters that Danny knows the origin of the thought, mostly seeing it as his own: '*Me pressed back against my sheets, Levi fucking down against my straddled hips.*'

He wants to throw the glass still in his grip. He wants a smoke. The most sane thing he wants is to touch Danny and to be touched back, and it would be easier to use his grip on Danny's hair to slide him back between his thighs, but he doesn't do that. He tilts Danny's head up oh so gently. It's mostly a strain on himself to bend his back so sharply when he leans down to kiss him again, tasting himself on Danny's lips and tongue. Daniel, lips parting to let Levi kiss him deeper, isn't passive the way Levi half-wishes he was. Another finger slips in, both curling up to push up at just the right angle.

Fuck.

He does his damnest to strangle that noise back where it belongs, behind his teeth where it won't do too much damage. But his lips and teeth are parted to slot as much of his mouth against Danny's as he can, and that's been going on *too long*, and so he parts them with a yank on that feather-soft hair just in time to make his punched-out whine harden into a rasp. Danny's thumb finds his clit faster than his half-lidded eyes can find contact with Levi's.

"How's that?" He asks with a grin that Levi hears as much as sees. Bastard. The bastard's other hand is tracing the scars on Levi's thigh with a reverence that doesn't feel soothing- which is fine really, Levi thinks he'd hate being patted and doted on like a twitchy stray cat, most of all *now* when what he wants is... exactly what Danny's giving him. *That look,* like...

"Is *that* why you keep looking at the scars?" Levi asks, breath hitching on a moan and then bursting back out with a breathless laugh. *Incredible.* "A kink?"

Danny doesn't have to answer, the flush on his cheeks does all the talking. But does anyway, "*yeah*", before he leans back down and wraps his lips around Levi's clit.

"Oh my-- *god*," Levi laughs again, bringing the glass up to his mouth and just butting the rim up against his lips. "I'm here telling- you my darkest... secrets... and you're getting... a stiffy over my scars. *Oh fuck,*" He gulps down another swallow of whiskey before he sinks down against the countertop, skin prickling with goosebumps as soon as the marble touches his skin.

"I think I finally get your sense of humor," Danny quips from between his legs, right before his tongue laps around his fingers, dipping into his entrance. Levi grunts, his whole core starting to tense, his thighs threatening to clamp around his poor victim's head. Danny's doing so good it feels like a challenge, and he doesn't plan to lose.

"Then you're... *probably* drunk enough... I don't want *either* of us sober... for my first time." Levi hisses, and he can just barely feel Danny's thoughts butting through the haze of his drunkenness, and he's got to cut that off *now*. "I showed you mine, when... are you gonna show me... yours? Scars. Body. *Come here.*"

Danny's lips are on his again, and his fingers have never stopped moving. Levi is trying and failing to plant his heels against the countertop so he can grind down on them.

He just *knows* none of those pinup shots are real. Photoshop or something. Not just the physique but the skin, not even the most premium doctors could erase everything Retribution did to Danny.

It's not the scars that are Levi's kink, exactly. He just like thinking that he's made his mark on this new territory, left something behind that'll stick even when this all goes to shit. He knows on a bone-deep level that it will, that there's an invisible timer ticking down at inconsistent, immeasurable speed.

Danny-Daniel has to pull his fingers out to undress, not looking even the slightest bit self-conscious. Levi wonders if it feels *good* to know he's so wanted, so want*able*, if Danny actually feels sexy under his scrutiny. The thought of eyes on him makes him feel pinned down like some etymological victim, or maybe like the butt of some joke. It's made worse by how bad he still wants this, like at any moment Danny will pull back and laugh at his enthusiastic desperation.

"Fuck you." He blurts with a little too much heat, one hand shooting up to grasp the curve of Danny's pec. "The pictures were real."

Except for the scars, but that registers more on the lizard hindbrain than on the more upfront desires burning up right out on the open. Thank *god* Danny isn't a telepath, because his mind is flooding with desires without proper outlet: bite, devour, fuck, make him beg, make him CRY

The buzz of too-bright thought bubbles up between them, and Levi knows it's Danny's thought before he even forms it into words and pictures- Levi doesn't need a cock to *fuck him* and use him the way he wants, he'd be a willing but mischievous little toy for Levi to gnaw on, to take what he wants. Just an illusion of true submission, but it works. He wants to make Levi come *so bad* that it snaps into Levi's mind stronger than Danny's base need to stick his cock in him. He'd happily let Levi ride his face for the rest of the night, as long as Danny could just see him blissed out at the end of it.

"*Fuck you,*" He repeats, and Danny laughs this time, though his face is heated. It contrasts so nicely with the pale hue his skin usually takes. This time Levi can see just how far that blush travels- it meets his jaw, then neck, collarbones and beyond. The fingers still splayed on Danny's chest just toe the blurred line of where his blush ends. The heat extends past that. Levi thinks he can feel his own sweat beading where their bodies are pressed together. "You think I won't? I've got no gripes about leaving you like this."

"Let me take you to the bedroom?" He offers rather than demands, bubbling up another flock of associated thoughts and feelings. Levi doesn't need to read them, because Danny happily says it. "My bed is a lot more comfortable. It's soft."

"I prefer firm." He doesn't, but he's a contrarian little ass even when he's not drunk. That means, though, that Danny just blinks down at him with this look of feigned innocence that makes Levi want to scream, or at least just bite him.

"Take me there," He orders a half-beat later, because he knows that Danny won't just fucking take him until he gets a straight answer for once. It doesn't matter if Danny's deciphered his code or not, Levi still needs to speak his language for him to work. Like saying the right cheat code or entering the right password. "*Now,*"

This time Danny moves him without sass, slipping back into the comfort of their dynamic. Not nearly as well-worn as Levi's dynamic with *Ortega*, where communication moves with a connection delivered through words spoken in the past. Danny has acclimated himself to Levi with a speed that betrays all of that pure observational skill; on Levi's end, it's mostly telepathy. He's not afraid to cheat, just a little ashamed to admit it.

Maybe it would be better not to think of Ortega, who still brings up a sharp and pleasant sting in his chest in some sort of psychosomatic response, or maybe some sort of learned pain- it'll hurt when the bad part happens, so might as well start the hurting now. Things like seeing Ortega with a million and one potential love interests and only turning to Levi with entirely platonic affection.

Not like Herald-Danny, who looks at Levi like he's worth fucking on clean sheets and a soft mattress, like he'd care if Levi dipped past nervous, neurotic, but enthusiastic participation and into a sort of dull-eyed acceptance-

No. He has to physically shake that thought away, body quaking enough that Danny shoots a puzzled look his way as he bends down to gather Levi up in his arms.

"Your counter is so fucking cold,"

"The bedroom's warmer," Danny assures with a coy smile, using the moment to warm Levi's back with his hands. "We can turn on the heater if it's that bad."

"Who the fuck," Levi spits with contempt, shoving his face against Danny's neck even as his skin prickles with latent discomfort, "Has a heater in Los Diablos? Get a white noise machine and just cope with eighty degree weather, you freak."

All of this shit- Danny carrying him in his arms, Danny kissing him, holding him, accepting him, *loving him*- it's declawing Levi bit by bit. The Levi of months ago could've broken the man's spirit, forced Danny to reject him, heard and *felt* how much it would hurt the little hero. Now he's not sure he could muster anything affective. He's tracing the tips of his short nails along the edges of all of Danny's scars, dismissing a halfhearted fantasy about tearing them back open with Retribution's clawed gauntlets. Instead he's catching Danny's skin between his teeth, too soft to deal real damage. He's finding the peaks and valleys of Danny's muscles with his fingertips, only pausing to rub a nipple under his roughened thumb.

--

Danny is floating them both to the bedroom, cracking an unashamed smile to greet the hard stare Levi tries- and fails- to give him.

'*I wish I were a telepath too.*'

"No, you don't."

'*If I were, I could know what you're thinking right now.*'

"You don't think you could ask?"

'*I don't think you would answer.*'

#writing tag #I am still behind on replies to things #tumblr has been stressing me out #fhr #levi song

[princeescaluswords]

If you could redo the scene with Lydia and Allison seeking help from Peter with her Banshee powers, how would you change it?

Oh, this is the easiest question I have ever received from you in the years we have known each other. I have multiple reasons for my answers, and they remain bedrock firm.

I would have burnt the entire concept of that scene to the ground.

Reason #1: What is this man doing here? At this point of the narrative, which characters would be able to trust or even willingly approach Peter? The scene literally points out what Peter did to Lydia and what Peter did to Allison. Earlier in the episode, Lydia recognizes that Peter is trying to manipulate her through her mother. In Galvanize (3x15), Derek demonstrates that he doesn't trust Peter and learns something about him from Talia's spirit. Season 3B shows everyone fighting for their lives against the nogitsune, while Peter fights for what Peter wants. The entire season of 3A showed Peter being selfish, Peter scheming, Peter lying, and yet they're still coming to him in crisis situations. It's just dumb.

The answer, of course, is that the production had to justify resurrecting Peter and keeping Ian Bohen on the payroll without changing Peter's essential nature. Only fools would want to involve themselves with a vicious serial killer and proven con artist, but the production is willing to paint every single character as a fool in order to keep White Male Snark on the screen. And the worst part is -- the plot makes it clear that the action isn't even worth it. All Peter does is smirk at both of them and then yell at Lydia until she figures it out herself. Allison says "Peter doesn't offer help; he offers you the chance to be manipulated into giving him what he wants" and that's exactly what happens! Peter manipulates Lydia into giving him what he wants. You might think they learned their lessons, but Lydia will do the same thing three episodes later.

Reason #2: Wasn't Lydia supposed to be the smart one? As I said before, she recognizes what Peter's doing when he accosts Natalie at the school, but somehow still thinks that her only recourse is to go him? Did she not have Derek's number? Could she not have waited twenty-four hours for Deaton to return? I'm pretty sure she could have tracked down Morrell in that time. Her best friend is the Argent Matriarch; the Argents have no knowledge or contacts with knowledge about banshees? Instead, she sees the trap, she walks into the trap, she gets caught by the trap, and she will be pay the price three episodes later. What's worse, we're not even considering she's made to crawl to the man who violated physically and mentally, who possessed her and made her hurt people, and by the time the show ends, she will supposed to be grateful for it. There will never be a single scene where her suspicion and negative feelings for Peter will be shown to be justified as an end in and of themselves.

Reason #3: Allison will be killed later this season, why did they have to assassinate her character first? Just like Lydia, she knows what's going on, but she goes along with it anyway. She has other options, one of which is turning to Lydia and saying "I know exactly what it's like to listen to an evil man because you're feeling helpless, and I can't stand by and let you make the same mistake!" But no, she has to stand there in that loft and get treated like she's an interloper and, even worse, get equated to Kate. "Your aunt had one of those." When Lydia agreed with him, "cut it out, both of you," their wonderful friendship was damaged as Lydia tosses Allison over the cliff for Lydia's right to get used by a murderer.

Reason #4: Malia never really had a chance, did she? Malia's story was compromised from the beginning, because they were never going to let Malia do to Peter what she did to Corinne. She was never going to get the chance to reject Peter in his entirety, even after he used fatherly affection to try to get her to kill Scott. She was going to be written again and again into having to slight her real families (the Tates and the pack) by making nice with this monster in order to give Ian Bohen a reason to be on the show, and that bullshit starts right here, where Peter's entitlement to be her "Dad" (be right back, throwing up in my mouth a little bit) becomes more important than anything else.

What could have been done instead? How about Deaton, who will literally help Lydia do the thing she wanted in Superposition (6x02) a little more than a year later. Morrell, who works at an institution that has housed multiple banshees. Or maybe an early introduction of Lorraine. Anything but make two female characters who had both struggled with being more than just an accessory to a male character go to an entitled white male shitbucket and ask for help they know will come with strings attached. As funny as it was, the scene was against theme, against characterization, and against aesthetics. It was total fan service of the worse possible type because it fed the audience's idea that ruthlessness = competence and that to achieve victory you have to do things like value your abuser and tolerate their selfishness.

#allison argent #lydia martin #anti peter hale #letharia vulpina #tw 3x19 #teen wolf problems

[pleasecorrectmygrammar]

The Legend of Cale #1

Cale was transmigrated again. Once again.

Maybe this is third time? Whoever cares. Anyway, this narator is unreliable. Let's check what is our Cale doing.

In the middle of some forest, laying on the ground--very much like napping, albeit the forest is too dark, too cold, and too lonely.

What is he doing?

Cale did not bother to open his eyes at all. Although he is alone, at least he doesn't need to worry when he received news that the kids are safe, and only him got trashtransported. How did he know? So, this is one of the many problems he got. God Of Death giving him some tips before departing and now he cannot contact him whatsoever because dimensional power or something like that.

One or two good things is, his ancient powers still with him, meaning: he transmigrated along with Cale Henituse body, not goes inside some random nob's body.

"Aigoo." the scent of earth and soil did not make him ease. Instead, he wondering where the hell did that GoD throw him into. Some random forest? This foreboding atmosphere around him certainly not a fairy tale forest.

Even if he did not want to, he still need to. This is what his life about is.

Cale opened his eyes, and grateful there's no blinding light. Still, dark is not so comfortable when you can see nothing. He takes few minutes to catch the row of high trees around.

So high that he can't guess is there a sun or moon in the sky.

Cale opened up his ear, sadly, he did not have keen hearing like Lock. Glad his whip still attached, but maybe still need a little time to function normally.

The point is, he did not hear any sound other than wind and rustle of leaves. Not even cricket and other small animal. He knows instantly, this forest is not normal.

At times like this, he hopes to have illusions from Raon for him to be invincible. With dragon alongside him, what is he afraid of?

What is this, forest of death? Haha.

Cale try to stand up slowly, still on effect of space change. Exhaling, he looks everywhere, perhaps, for some road. It's too bad that his ancient power still in repercussions from space changed.

Although he got no idea, he still has some survival tricks, though it's really rare for him to stray in the forest. First, he knows this forest is dangerous, either because the animal, or other beast because this place is reaaly too quiet. Second, he maybe needs to look for some water resources first. Bad news, he cannot see the road, his eyes is normal, nothing some sort of enhancement.

-How about compass, Cale. Surely you had one.

Some bored tone voices out.

Following those advice, he take out some compass which he did not know when or why there from spatial bag.

"Okay, this seems work."

-Do you know where to go?

Star of healing asking carefully.

-Why, just follow where the sun rises.

The Indestructible Shield join in.

-Aren't we going to where the water located?

-Can you see in the dark? Can't you?

Annoyed voice of Sky Eating Water replied.

"Chill, it's not like i will survive." to find some water in the end, Cale added silently.

-Come on, Cale. You're the number one person who will survive despite your bad luck. Which is your biggest luck.

The Indestructible Shield felt bittersweet for him.

"That's very helpful of you, thank you."

-Are you feel comfortable now?

"Quite,"

Indeed, he feel relieved with some voices inside his head. While walking he exchange words with his ancient powers. Suddenly, he heard rustle in front of him.

Cale stop in his place and stare carefully. About to be ready to show some fireworks in this dark forest.

But, he saw someone came out of the bush. Not a beast, Cale relaxed a little.

Of course he did not relieved so fast, why are there human in this forest? The person in front of him wearing fox painted mask, a vest and pants. Did not look primordial, surely this person is not inhabitants of kanibal village? Hope so.

"Excuse me." that person speaking. Thank goodness, whatever this language is he understands.

The voice sounds androgynous, and it's not easy to guess female or male by appearance. Only the hair is long and that's it.

"Ah, yes." Cale replied slowly, waiting for the other speak further.

"This forest is off-limits."

Finally. Cale lowered half of his guard.

"I got lost." Cale simply stated.

The person in front did not reply right away, just staring at him like looking into his soul. Which is did not help in any way.

"I could explain this, but i hope... to, you know, rest for a moment." surely this person should know some hotel or nearby rest area since this one is warning him about this forest being dangerous.

Suddenly the person in front of him jump and vanish into the branch.

-A ninja!!

-Maybe another arm people?!

-This is another dimension, come on. Unless white star is come here too. But it's impossible to build an organization so fast.

-Dumbass. No Arm people would warn someone. They're just gonna kill immediately.

Cale gulping and waiting. Few seconds after, another person appeared. This one has short hair and wearing face mask. One of his eyes covered by cloth... and he looks shortyoung.

Cale frown softly.

"I am Hatake." he state simply.

A kid, really.

"I am, Cale. My name is Cale Henituse."

The boy quiet for a moment before continue speaking. "The way out is quite far from here, i am afraid you won't get there anywhere near tonight."

So now is night. "How far?"

"By your pace..., about half a day or less."

Night is time for rest, Cale certain. "Then..."

"You may join our camp near here, and i will lead you out tomorrow morning."

"That's good. I'm troubling you." Cale flashed an elegant smile.

"Not at all." that boy, Hatake, turn and walk, before pausing his steps. "Please follow me."

Not waiting for Cale to speak, Hatake starting first. "Are you all alone here?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"How come? Did you come here for some sort of business?"

Cale knows there must be a town nearby, and he guess the person before is guarding this area. Sadly, he cannot lie because if this people interrogate him, he won't be able to answer in detail. He did not know if they are easy to fool, but for safety, let's just say something simple. They did not look like dangerous for him. More like, they care for weak people like him.

This chivalry must be not small.

"Honestly, i came here suddenly. Like," Cale glances to the boy who still walking with ease through roots and stones.

"Like boom." Cale said. "I don't have any idea where i am, or what this place is... maybe you could tell me a little?"

Cale though the kid won't answer him, but he received a reply.

"This forest is... Forest of Death."

Jackpot?

"Forest of Death..." he wants to know is this place is graveyard or something. But,

"This is part of Fire Nation."

"And where are you from?" Cale asking.

"...I am from Fire Nation."

"..." so that's mean, this forest is part of a nation. And he trespassed this area without permission for sure. No wonder they're wary of him. He must be looks very suspicious appearing in the middle from nothing.

The only reason they're not attacking him must be not because he is handsome and all.

-It must be because you as weak as XXX

Sky Eating Water beaming.

-Right, without nothing. No weapons.

-Wait until they know you have us.

'Better not.' Cale grimace.

Fortunately, he did not lash out his ancient power before. His luck is not so bad after all.

"Are you.. in school training or...?" Why kid like him stay in forest like this?

"?" Hatake glances back.

"Is the person before your teacher?"

"She is not my teacher."

"Oh Really?"

"We are partners."

'What does it mean?' Cale did not have time to ask because they have arrived at the camp.

"Here is the camp." Hatake leading Cale to one of three tents. He pointed to the tent in the middle. "You could use this tent, it's empty at the moment."

With ease the kid light a small bonfire from branch around, warms the atmosphere around.

"Is this okay?" Cale asking.

"Is this not warm enough?" Hatake asked back.

"No, i mean, what if there is animal coming here."

"It's okay. Nothing dangerous for now."

'Okay'. Cale nodding. He saw the kid did not go and just stay after the bonfire, sitting on a dead stalk.

He knows they won't leave him alone for whatever reason. From the tent to the bonfire and the kid... well, it would be convincing if they send adults. But he saw how the kid appear suddenly. Who knows, this kid probably a pro, Cale amusing himself and take seat on another dead stalk.

There is no way he is gonna walk in and sleep while here a kid staying awake.

Let's exchange information.

-tbc

#fanfic #cale henituse #naruto #im bored #grammar broken #crossover #the lout's of count's family #the trash of the count's family

[mercyandaminute]

andy + matt

@defectivexfragmented

A little over a year after the deaths of his wife and son, and Andy had relocated from Massachusetts to New York City and more or less settled into his new job. The firm was a significant step down from District Attorney, but at this point, he was grateful to be practicing at all. It hadn’t been a sure thing in the aftermath, and losing his license might have been the thing that finally tipped him over the edge. He’d been dangerously near it for a while there anyway, until he realized he had to become someone else to survive. Gone was the joint career and family man, and the one that remained was a little rougher around the edges, a little more prone to gritted teeth and bruised knuckles and abrupt ends to conversations.

After being at the epicenter of a small-town scandal that nevertheless made national news, he appreciated the anonymity afforded by a larger city, although it was far from foolproof. The renewed media circus over the one-year anniversary had involved a few bottles of whiskey and at least one patched-over hole in the wall of his apartment. It had mercifully died down except for the occasional paparazzo who didn't have anything better to do, but Andy gave them nothing. Everything he’d intended to say about it had already been made public.

The fact that his statements barely scratched at the surface of the truth was irrelevant. He wasn't sorry for the lies he'd told, not to the press or the courts, not even to his family. The truth had killed them, the weight of it too much for them to hold, and those bonds were more fragile than he'd ever imagined. If there was a single moment in all of it that he regretted, it was sharing his doubts with Laurie. He'd been holding everything together until that night, but he'd slipped and let his fear overrule his sense. If he'd just kept his mouth shut, knowing full well she couldn't handle the reality of it, things might have gone differently. Instead, that moment of weakness cost them their lives.

He could die in that wreckage with them, or he could stand up and walk away from it, and for whatever reason, Andy had never been the type to quit, even when he knew he was beaten. His life had narrowed down considerably, his days filled with therapy, swimming and boxing at the gym (the latter a new hobby meant to channel some of that pent-up aggression), and work. It was mostly the worst cases that came his way these days, but he still put everything he had into them. It was maybe the one point of pride he had left, and it filled the endless empty hours to focus his mind on familiar, solvable problems. His success rate was better than it should have been, all things considered, but it wasn't like he had a lot of other things distracting him.

And then there was this. When a case failed to keep his interest and he couldn’t stare down another sleepless night, counting the hours until dawn, he found himself in a bar. It was rarely the same one twice, nothing about his existence right now geared toward making lasting connections. It had been so long since he’d done this one night stand shit, just a couple years in college before he met Laurie and things got serious. It was almost uncanny how easily it came back, picking up strangers and deleting numbers from his phone on the sidewalk as the sun came up. He smiled when he said he wouldn't call to take the sting out of it, but he was never anything less than honest about exactly what it was (if not about who he was, if they didn’t already know). Still, people heard what they wanted to. He didn’t feel guilty about it, but he didn’t feel good about it either, and that was okay. He wasn’t sure he was going to feel good ever again.

This place was new to him and a bit of a dive, which suited him fine. He'd found he could no longer stomach the kind of upscale place where lawyers in nicely pressed suits congregated for happy hour, if he’d ever really had a taste for it. He had nothing to say to those people, and they sure as hell didn't have anything to say to him anymore. Happy hour had long since passed anyway, night having fallen outside the tinted windows. He was on his second drink and had just caught the bartender's attention for a third. "Do you mind? Thanks." He nodded toward the man at the other end of the bar, signaling to send him another of whatever he was drinking as well. A long shot, but fuck it. He was easy on the eyes, and Andy was just buzzed enough to not care if he got punched by a homophobe.

#chat: matt #defectivexfragmented #verse: welcome to new york #tw: child death #tw: spouse death #tw: alcohol #tw: grief #tw: guilt #let me know if anything needs to be changed! #<3

[sukirichi]

closer | gojo satoru x reader

a/n: aaah my first ask and it’s a request! thanks so much this is so kind and sweet of you 🥺 and here it is! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! 

summary: in which Gojo has the need to be closer to you after a long day of hard work

pairings: jealous! Gojo x reader

warnings: none, other than this isn’t proofread! (This is just a fluffy domestic short fic!)

masterlist ! 

The best part about being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the power (although Gojo basks in that too) but rather the fact that he allows himself to completely tear his walls down and be putty in your hands once he comes home from work.

Gojo would never say it out loud that the best part of his days is waking up next to you, pressing kisses in your still sleepy face and you whining for five more minutes, then watching as you wobble like a penguin to the shower so you can start your day. Although he doesn’t really ask much from you, his heart still swells every time you make him a sandwich, kiss it and claim that it’s “made with love” before he proudly shows off his ‘breakfast’ of the day to his students.

Even in work, he still thinks of you. It’s quite impossible for this man to stop thinking of you; you and him never left that honeymoon phase even after two years of marriage and a much longer time of dating.

He could be exorcising a curse then get distracted afterwards after seeing an Italian restaurant that he just knows you’ll love. Next thing you know, Gojo flicks his wrist and exorcises the curse in a flash before hopping into that restaurant to look at the menu. Loving is knowing; Gojo takes the time to see if the restaurant would be respectful of your allergies every time before booking reservations.

It’s no secret that this man is completely enamoured with you, if his sappy good morning kisses accompanied with light, teasing touches down your legs is not an indication already. Gojo is confident and feels safe in your relationship and he’s never the type to get jealous because Gojo is Gojo – who else would be better than him for you?

Or at least that’s what he used to believe, until he comes home with a bag of pumpkin spice bread for you, arms wide open and a “Darling~” about to leave his lips when he sees your current predicament.

Nanami is leaning against one of the chairs in your cafe downstairs from your home, the usual stoic man’s lips and cheekbones slightly raised in laughter as you tell him something about your day. Gojo can’t exactly understand the worse falling from your lips because he’s too focused on the way you’re leaning forward, eyes absolutely crinkled into half-moons while you share a strawberry tart with him. Gojo sees the cups of tea have already been emptied, meaning Nanami has been here for a much longer time than he is welcomed.

Gojo clenches his jaw. He’s told you many times you should get a bell so you’d know when a customer comes in, but now he’s thankful you’re stubborn and refused to have one because he can hide in one of the propped up tables and chairs hidden in the darkness.

He can’t help the sigh he releases. He’s late – like he always is.

You’re a regular human who isn’t able to see curses. You’ve only ever known about their existence ever since you started dating Gojo, but other than that, you’re completely unaware of how these things work. It doesn’t bother Gojo. In fact, he quite likes that he can be just a regular man around you, and he basks in the comfort of not having to worry about your safety if ever you were also like him.

He met you when you were just still a barista who helped your boss bake from time to time. Gojo was only a student then who hopped from one cafe to another in search of the best delicacy, but he got more than what he bargained from when he met the fresh-faced and bubbly young woman standing behind the counter whose smile was sweeter than the most sugary dessert you’ve ever made.

As the two of you grew older, Gojo supported you in building your own cafe since you’re so passionate about it and it’s been your dream since childhood.

He still remembers how you’d spend hours in the kitchen trying out new ingredients, so much so that you forget to eat on most days. Gojo is left with the task of literally hauling your ass up upstairs and force you to shower with him. You lie that you’re not really tired, but the moment his skilled hands roll the tension out of your shoulders, a contented and grateful sigh paints those lips he loves to kiss.

One of the things Gojo loves doing with you is taste-testing. He’s not around the house most of the time when you work since he’s a busy man himself, but on the days he actively chooses to annoy Principal Yaga and go AWOL, he’d sit obediently on the counter and let you use him as your own taste experimenting dummy.

When night falls and you’re just about ready to head to bed; satisfied and proud of another day of hard work, Gojo comes home early to help you clean up the cafe and prop the furniture so you don’t overstrain your muscles.

Or at least, he wants to come home early to help you. It’s just that he often gets carried away on his missions and stays behind a lot longer than he’d like because the world of curses is extremely demanding. After seeing that you probably already lifted all these heavy chairs and cleaned up everything by yourself even when you’re tired, and you still have the ability to smile and laugh like that in Nanami’s presence when he should be the one on the receiving end, Gojo is unable to fight back the twisting feeling that pools in his stomach.

Forcing a huge grin on his face, Gojo loudly smacks the paper bag in the table between you and Nanami, his hands resting on the blond’s shoulder who only groans at his presence. “Yo!” He greets, winking when your eyes gleam brighter now that your husband is home.

There’s no trace or hint of anything that could indicate you’re upset with him because he didn’t come home early. Instead, you bow and excuse yourself while picking up your cups and the small plate where remnants of your signature tart had been, and Gojo watches with longing eyes as you disappear in the back room.

Now that you’re gone, Gojo drops in your seat, takes off his blindfold, and glares at Nanami. “Nanamin,” he drawls out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here – getting chummy with my wife, no less.”

Gojo knows he’s being petty and childish. Of course he is. This is Nanamin we’re talking about; the man is as frigid and stone and he’s as interested in romantic relationships as much as he respects Gojo Satoru. Plus, it’s you, and you have eyes for Gojo and Gojo only, but it’s also Gojo Satoru who’s mixed in the formula, and he’s not the least bit ashamed that he’s being immature right now.

Of course he’s jealous. Of course he’s possessive.

You’re his sweet, little wife – of course he doesn’t like it.

As if reading his mind but couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, Nanami slides an envelope across the table. “Ijichi took a sick leave so he couldn’t give this to you. I was tasked to hand it over to you instead so I came around. It’s not my fault you come home late and your wife insisted I have a short meal before I came home,” Gojo opens his to retort something stupid when you emerge from the back, pretty face tired yet still patient as ever.

“Leaving already, Nanami?” You smile up at him, hand slipping through Gojo’s bigger and rough ones. He doesn’t know why the gesture leaves him stunned, especially when you step close enough that he feels your heat on this sudden cold night. He’s so entranced by everything about you he doesn’t even notice the blond bidding his farewell.

Gojo watches as you turn to face him, smaller hands reaching up to caress his face. Now that his blindfold is gone, his hair falls down to forehead, your dainty fingers brushing them away from his eyes so you could marvel in its beauty.

Like a little kid, he melts into a puddle when you do that exact eye-smile he’s seen you do with Nanami, only this time, it’s reserved, private, and intimate.

Gojo shuts his eyes in the process, nearly stumbling forward, which he doesn’t really let happen with anyone because he’s the Gojo Satoru; strongest jujutsu sorcerer. But you don’t mind, you never do, and if anything it only makes you laugh when he pretends to be deadweight by collapsing into the crook of your neck.

“What a big baby,” you tease with your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, all the tiredness and exhaustion from his day disappearing into thin air.

“Yes,” he concedes as he follows you up the stairs where you both change into your pyjamas and settle in for the night. “But I’m your big baby.”

The nickname makes you laugh, head thrown back as giggles erupted in your chest. You’ve already removed your makeup, hair down from your work hairnet and flowing in loose waves. Gojo stifles a gasp then, because you’re in his arms, in his bed, smelling like him, and you’re so soft, so free, so vulnerable and the way you lean into his shoulders while he rubs his cheek on the crown of your head makes him feel like he’s falling in love all over again.

He’ll never get tired of this – of you.

The mere thought of seeing you with someone else that isn’t him doesn’t sit well with Gojo. Now he understands why he’s so jealous and immature – it’s because he hasn’t wanted anyone or anything as much as he loves you.

He can’t imagine a life where he’ll wake up to his mornings without your limbs sprawled across his longer ones, or how he may never hear your sleep talks about birds and butterflies; which is utterly ridiculous, but because it’s you, he finds it adorable. Sometimes Gojo wonders how he ever even lived before meeting, but of course, those were days filled with nothing but him doing weird stupid shit.

Not that he’s stopped doing that, but now at least he’s doing those weird stupid with you.

And he only ever wants to share those with you, so he doesn’t and will never allow anyone else to take what’s rightfully his. You’re his wife, the love of his life, the sunshine in his mornings and the sunset of his beautiful dusk.

He doesn’t care if he’s petty – he’s got every right to be jealous because Gojo Satoru never shares what’s his.

When his mind races back to the way you smile for Nanami again, his hold on you grows tighter. You don’t complain when Gojo suddenly presses his lips into yours, a breathy moan blessing his ears once he finally moves on top of you. Gojo runs his hand under your – his – shirt, letting those talented hands of his roam upon the expanse of his skin like an artwork he’ll never get tired of looking at.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in between the lip-locking, leaning closer when your nails start to scratch his scalp as a way to soothe him from the night. Nothing about the kiss is hurried or fervent; rather, it’s calm and steady, slow and passionate, much like how everything he feels for you is similar to a calm, rainy day where he’ll stay in with a hot cup of chocolate.

You’re home – warmth and comfort – and you know you’re his just as he knows he’s yours, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you like he wants you to never forget that.

You shiver when Gojo’s fingers tickle your ribcage, that spot always having been sensitive. Your husband swipes his tongue over your lips that still tastes like strawberries from your lipbalm, and he groans, falling forward when you allow him access into your sweet, sweet mouth. Meanwhile, you travel down from his hair into those broad, strong shoulders that always seemed like a fortress to you.

Gojo was so big and strong compared to you. There’s no denying he could easily break you if he wanted to, but he’s nothing but gentle – perhaps a little eager – when he holds you like this.

There’s no memory of how you end up on top of his lap that night with the covers barely strewn across your bodies, Gojo’s back pressing into the bed frame that’s witnessed endless nights of passion. His hands then run over your hips, squeezing it a little too hard until you rut against his hips.

“Hmm,” you moan into his mouth at the friction, while Gojo only smirks at your reaction. Even after years, you’re still so sweet, sensitive, and responsive – he just can’t get enough of it. “Satoru,” the way you say his name is so breathy, almost as if it’s a secret only the two of you should know, so he listens intently at your next words. “You’re a little needy tonight. Did something happen?”

“No,” he lies, smiling to himself once he sees your lips are red and bruised. He’s sure he looks the same, but your eyes are glossed over with love that he can’t resist you pulling you to him as if the space offends him. He trails his lips down to your neck to leave red patches of marks that claims you as his – not that the gold wedding band on your fingers wasn’t doing the job already.

Like the good girl you are, you tilt your head and allow him to do as he pleases. He sucks, licks, kisses and nips at the skin, all the while careful to not hurt you or push you over to the edge since both of you are too tired for the day to ever do anything.

Your head drops to the crook of his neck then, arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as if you trusted him to catch you whenever you fall – and you know he will. He always will.

Later on, you grow sleepy at the way he starts to pepper kisses into your skin that addictingly smells like cinnamon and vanilla all at the same time. Gojo chuckles to himself at how peaceful you look in that moment, draped over him like a tiny puppy who lives in a world too big for themselves, but that’s not true.

You’re bigger than the universe itself, larger than the vast galaxies he held beneath those eyes, and Gojo finally stops being jealous.

There’s no need to be, after all, not when he’s the one you trust wholeheartedly to tuck you in bed while your soft breathing lulls him into slumber as well. Gojo flicks the lamp off with his finger, not wasting another second before he scoots closer, closer, closer until there’s no more recollection of where you begin and where he ends.

He stands corrected in his statement.

He’ll never get tired of this, of you, for you’re bigger than the universe itself and there’s still a lot of space between the two of you that he can’t wait to cross until your worlds crash and burn.

“Next time,” he promises before kissing your eyelids, “I’ll come home earlier.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jjk fics #jjk romance #jjk one shot #jjk goto satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader fic #gojo x reader romance #gojo x reader one shot #gojo x reader imagines #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk headcanons #gojo satoru x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader scenarios #gojo-satoru-x-reader fluff

[elysianslove]

haikyuu boys and tropes that suit them!

includes: kageyama tobio, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tōru, sakusa kiyoomi, miya osamu, miya atsumu, suna rintarō

(possibly part 1??? consider this an apology for not posting as much 💔)

kageyama tobio — practice kissing. 

kageyama is, as embarrassing as it is for him to admit this, inexperienced, greatly so. he’s in his third year of high school, 18, and is yet to have his first kiss. college is approaching him dauntingly quick, and he doesn’t think he can handle being as clueless as he is for any longer. so while you’re sat on his bed scrolling through his phone, he bluntly asks you if you’ve ever kissed someone. he seemed so confident, and the words were straightforward and lacked any sign of anxiety or uneasiness. but the moment they left his mouth, he’s red in the face and his hands are shaking. when you agree to help him practice, he’s scared, shy, flustered, and his heart is in his throat, but he lets you lead the, setting the pace yourself as you sit before him, his face in your hands, pulling him closer to you. it’s electrifying, to put it to the least. he’d heard a million horror stories from his upperclassmen about first kisses, but he finds himself unable to relate. everything about the kiss and you is perfect, and he asks for more practice, starts looking forward to theses ‘sessions.’ he starts growing more and more confident, until he’s the one flustering you, the one making you gasp and squirm and mewl, not the other way around. and maybe he’ll find it in him to confess. maybe. 

iwaizumi hajime — friends to lovers. 

in general, with iwaizumi, he has a hard time believing in that he’s meant for a relationship, in that he has his own person, and for many reasons. he tries to be rational about it, saying he has other priorities at the moment, that he won’t be able to give his all, that he’s not particularly ready or in the right headspace/situation to commit to a person and a relationship. but it’s also, deep down, because of this indescribable fear of not being enough, of his flaws being too much, of being too imperfect. he just chooses not to get a headache over it, honestly. that’s why friends to lovers is perfect for him. it’s this person who he’s known for a long time, someone he’s come to know so well, so deeply, and vice versa. they’ve seen the bad and good of each other, been through all the ups and downs, learnt all their quirks, their habits, their tendencies. this is someone who is already a priority, someone who is already a constant. of course, he still hurts his head thinking about how wrong it is to have feelings for his friend, and the shame and guilt eats at him from the inside out. but it’s just so— easy. to love them. it’s so, so easy, as easy as breathing. and iwaizumi spends such a large amount of time pining and yearning that the final straw, the snap, the breathless confession, is so satisfying. 

oikawa tōru — enemies to lovers. 

oikawa wants and needs someone that’ll both keep him on his toes, always pushing him to the very edge but not completely over. he needs someone that excites him, someone that he has to work to earn. the word enemies is blurry to him. all he sees is someone playing hard to get, and he takes it as a challenge. it’s not that he wants and needs everyone to be in love with him and how dare you not be swooning at the sight of me!! it’s more that this person intrigues him impossibly. this person challenges him, bites back, and bites back hard. and the transition from enemies to lovers is so smooth with him, because it’s unpredictable and unexpected. one moment you’re swearing at him across the hall, the next you’re tenderly massaging at his injured knee and reassuring him of his hard work and efforts. it’s beautiful, really. the snarky comments and the flirty comebacks and the glares returned with playful grins, and them the moment of realization that opens up a whole new door that this person isn’t so bad after all. the satisfaction of finally giving in, either so slowly, so carefully and timidly, or rushed, hurried and desperate. so good. 

sakusa kiyoomi — there was only one bed! 

sakusa does not share. it’s nothing personal (sometimes it is), but he just prefers to have his own private space, where he can be comfortable. but things happen! like a trip where you’re stuck in the same room! and there’s only one bed! and the person you’re stuck with is the same person you’re very confused in regards to your feelings about them! the trip is a couple of days, and so it starts with the offer to sleep on the couch. it’s very uncomfortable, but he does it anyways, because a) he’s a gentleman, and b) you both now each have your private, safe space. two days pass, and you both tiredly pass out on the bed next to one another. he wakes up before you in horror and falls onto the couch quickly, but he doesn’t fall asleep again. as if this were fate’s play, you find yourself unable to sleep, and neither can he, so you quietly scoot over, a silent invitation. reluctantly, he accepts. he doesn’t spend that night sleeping either, instead simply stares at you, his hand outreaching for you, but not quite touching. eventually comes a day when he wakes up with your face buried in his shoulder, and although his cheeks are as warm as ever, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable. he only feels grateful to be finally touching you. 

miya osamu — soft only for their lover. 

it’s not that osamu is rude to others, or hates everyone else, or anything along those lines. it’s more that he’s less likely to open up, be vulnerable, be softer, easier than compared to with his partner. with his lover, he smiles easier, expressions are readable, his eyes always a dead giveaway to what’s on his mind. he’s colder and less approachable to others, but it’s almost as if his resolve melts the moment he spots his lover. he could be yelling at someone, angrily, then turn to his partner and in the softest voice say, “just a moment, my love,” and go back to yelling as if it were completely normal. similarly, he will always take his lover’s side of the argument regardless of whether they’re right or wrong. and, he’ll be kissing his lover, but pause for a moment to deck his brother, then return to kissing his lover again even softer. it’s because his lover owns such a big part of his heart, and when osamu loves, he loves with every part of him. he’s been called out on it multiple times; the fact that he’s so much meaner and harsher and stubborn with everyone else, including his brother, but it’s always the opposite with you. you are his soft spot, really, and it tickles your tummy whenever you notice the little changes and shifts in his attitude and personality when it comes to you. 

miya atsumu — enemies to lovers. 

unlike with oikawa’s case, you and atsumu genuinely hate each other. you despise his attitude, his cockiness, his ideals, his approaches, his voice, his hair, everything, and likewise, he can’t stand you. he’d only ever been rude to you, and in response, you’d defended yourself by being equally as rude. this isn’t playing hard to get enemies, this is i hate your guts enemies. rarely does being in a room with him not result in some sort of argument. your mutual friends are all fed up, of the arguments, the fighting, the smack talk behind one another’s backs, the complaining, everything. it’s infuriating, and so they beg you to talk it out, to try and resolve whatever it was going on between you, but either he wouldn’t cooperate, or you wouldn’t. it seemed hopeless, until at some point in time, you get badly hurt, maybe mentally or physically, but atsumu finds himself worried unbelievably. it’s irrational to be, especially with your history with one another. but he’s worried, insanely so, and when he finds you, finds out you’re okay, or you will be, the relief that fills him is dizzying and so, scary. but maybe the both of you were just projecting onto each other, the fact that you so badly wanted each other but felt like you couldn’t do anything. 

suna rintarō — brother’s best friend. 

it’s a dash of forbidden love, a dash of friends to lovers. he’s your brother’s best friend, older than you, and it’s wrong, you know it is, but you can’t help it. on the days he’s invited over, you purposely make sure to stay at home, and you make excuses to pass by your brother’s room constantly, to talk to him. he knows you like him, knows you’re desperately chasing after him in your own subtle way, and for a while, suna lets you. he acts dumb, none the wiser, lets you have your little fun of sneaking snaps of him to send to your friends and when you purposely press your leg against his sitting next to him on the couch or when you offer your lollipop after you suck on it. he indulges you, slightly, subtly. and when he sees it suitable, finds it right, he starts to return the advances: he accidentally arrives a little earlier than planned to your home when he’s invited, and he passed by you in school more often, and he makes up excuses to text you all the time. eventually, the sexual tension is unbearable, suffocating, incredibly overwhelming, and when it snaps, nothing else matters. just the two of you. he’s experienced, good with his words and his hands and his mouth and he’s a dream. and all you do is fall deeper, and deeper, and deeper. 

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kageyama x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #sakusa x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #suna x reader #kageyama headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #oikawa headcanons #miya atsumu headcanons #miya osamu headcanons #suna headcanons #sakusa headcanons