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dirtyvulture · 11 months

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Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha calls you to her office for a performance evaluation.

Word count: 1414

AN: I’ve had this idea forever, but it wasn’t until I got some military requests (which I kind of tried to incorporate) that I finally sat down to write this. Enjoy!

Reader has a penis. No pronouns used.

"I want to see you in my office after briefing, Sergeant,” your superior, Natasha Romanoff, says to you when you pass her in the hallway.

“Yes, ma’am.” You dip your head in respect, not pausing in your rapid pace to get to your next location. You don’t think anything of her request, feeling your performance in your new role has gone smoothly so far. But you also knew that Romanoff had very high standards, and was one of the few who had been against your promotion initially.

You attend your meeting without issue, getting up and almost heading to the chow hall with your comrades, when you remember you’re supposed to see Staff Sergeant Romanoff first. You make a quick U-turn and head back to her office, knocking forcefully and announcing yourself.

“Sergeant Romanoff? It’s Sergeant Y/N like you requested.”

“Come in and close the door.”

You heed her instruction, finding her lounging behind her desk. She’s not in her uniform, making you feel strangely out of place and like you shouldn’t be seeing her like this. Instead, she’s wearing the standard issued workout shirt, with her last name stamped across her left breast.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” you ask, standing at attention and staring at the wall behind her.

“At ease,” she says, and you shift your legs into a shoulder-wide stance, holding your hands behind your back. But you still don’t make eye contact with her.

“So tell me, Sergeant, how is training with the new recruits going?” Natasha asks.

“Very well,” you answer.

“You think so?” Natasha leans forward and taps her perfectly-manicured nails along the wood of her desk.

“Uh,” you hesitate, not sure what her intentions are now. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

“Because that’s not what I heard from Captain Rogers.”

You press your lips into a flat line, trying to hide your grimace. Captain Steve Rogers had been your other long-time adversary, and the other person alongside Romanoff who had opposed your promotion. You still weren’t sure why he was so hostile with you, perhaps he was jealous of your skills, or the fact that Romanoff gave you much more of her attention than him.

“Captain Rogers said three of your recruits failed their most recent written exam,” Romanoff goes on.

“A lot of recruits fail the written exams,” you defend. “So, I’m personally working with them to make sure they pass their retake--”

“Your fail rate needs to be zero, Sergeant Y/N,” Romanoff says through her teeth.

“That’s not completely in my control, ma’am--”

“Are you making excuses for your poor display of leadership?” Romanoff snaps.

“I, no--that’s not it at all--”

“Atten-SHUN!” she barks suddenly and you scramble to snap your arms to your sides and your legs together. “Half-right, face!” You barely have time to process her demand before she’s yelling out another one. You turn your feet at a 45-degree angle to the right, facing the corner of her office now. “Front leaning rest position. MOVE!”

It’s almost humiliating to be asked of such a request at your rank, but you know better than to argue. You drop to the floor into a pushup position, keeping your back perfectly straight, your arms almost locked out to hold yourself up.

“Down!” she commands, and you bend your elbows until your chest almost touches the floor. “Up!”

“One, Sergeant Romanoff!” you respond, pushing yourself back into the resting position.

“Down. Up!”

“Two, Sergeant Romanoff!”

She keeps you going at a steady pace and you hardly notice her get up from behind her desk and stand next to her, her shadow casting over your body. By the 30th pushup, you feel the slight burn in your chest and arms, but you know you have the stamina to go well into the hundreds without faltering. However, you also know that Romanoff is one of the most notoriously punishing staff sergeants, so you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Down. Up!”

“Fifty, Sergeant Romanoff,” your voice cracks and you shake your head to not think much of it.

“Tired yet, Sergeant Y/N?” Romanoff asks, squatting down to your level. The collar of your uniform is dampened with sweat and you feel it collecting on your forehead.

“No, ma’am!” you lie.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping you anytime soon,” Romanoff says, and you feel your arms quiver in the slightest at her threat. “Down. Up!”

“Fifty-one, Sergeant Romanoff!” you grunt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha lie down flat on the floor and slide herself under you. She positions herself right underneath your crotch and embarrassingly, you feel yourself harden at the thought of your cock being so close to her face.

“Sergeant?” you ask.

“I did not give you permission to speak,” Romanoff says, reaching up and pulling your tucked in shirt out of the waistband of your pants. She undoes a few of the buttons on the bottom, slipping her hand inside and running it across the soaked skin of your flexed abs. “I’ve always admired your dedication to physical fitness, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you respond, your arms shaking as you try to keep yourself upright.

Romanoff traces her fingers lower and unbuckles your belt, pulling down your zipper. Her fingers purposely brush over your clothed bulge and your body jolts. You suck in a breath, but now with all the blood in your body going down to your groin, your collapse is inevitable.

“Down.”

You don’t know if you should keep your hips straight or arch them up, but your body has a mind of its own now and you lower yourself, your bulge bumping against Romanoff’s nose. She doesn’t give you the command to push back up, so you wait in that position, shaking from the effort.

Romanoff peels down your boxers, freeing your hard cock, and licks at it tentatively. You grunt at the contact, now wanting to press down harder into her, but you resist.

“Up.”

You groan as you find the strength to push yourself away from her mouth.

“Uh...fifty...fifty-two, Sergeant Romanoff.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already lost count,” Romanoff teases, reaching up and wrapping her warm hand around you, pumping it slowly. Your thighs quiver from the stimulation and you feel pre-cum shuttle out of the tip. “Down.”

This time when you lower yourself, Romanoff guides you into her mouth. She takes almost your entire length, nestling your head in the back of her throat and your eyes roll in pleasure.

Instead of telling you to go back up (since her mouth is full of your dick), she pushes against your thighs and you begrudgingly obey.

“F-Fifty-three, Sergeant Romanoff,” you whimper when your cock is exposed to the cool air once again. All you want is to be buried down the warmth of her throat until you lose your load.

“How many more do you think you can last?” Romanoff asks. “Two? Three?”

Privately, you don’t think you’ll last another one, with the fact that you’re on top of her but she’s in control of you making your head spin.

“Down.”

You moan in relief when she takes you again, this time sealing her lips around the base of your cock and sucking rhythmically. Your hips start to jerk on their own, breaking your perfect form, but you don’t care anymore and you can tell your sergeant doesn’t, either.

“Fuck, Sergeant,” you splutter, her tongue teasing the veins on your cock finally sending you over the edge without warning. Your thighs flex and your arms shake as you struggle to keep yourself from falling on top of Romanoff completely. Her throat milks you to swallow your entire load and she doesn’t stop until you’re begging to pull back out.

“You tasted better than I thought you would, Sergeant,” Romanoff says, sliding out from under you. “Recover.” You scramble to stand up, resuming the position of attention and humiliated to notice your now-limp cock hanging out of your pants. Your chest heaves from the exertion of over 50 pushups and you know Romanoff isn’t done with you yet.

She moves to stand in front of you. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and leans against you, putting her hand on your cock once more, massaging it back to hardness. “I hope you have good stamina here too,” she whispers, before pushing you onto her desk and riding you until neither of you can walk.

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AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

Click here for Part 2!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝐑𝐮𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 3.4k

chapter summary: You have dinner with Joel and Sarah. Tommy has a preposition that starts the process of healing.

warnings: mostly fluff with a hint of hurt/comfort, mentions of grief

a/n: I should've just called this chapter "I wanna hangout with the millers" Also thank you to all who showed interest in the series, I'm really excited about this one 💜

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Joel sits at the head of the table. There’s a navy blue napkin between his fingers, his eyes continuously darting to the kitchen. The napkin is subjected to his fidgeting, twisted, tugged, and torn, the remnants scattering across the table like confetti. You can’t stop staring. Your own fingers, too, betray your nerves, as you nervously trace the contours of the fork, its smooth surface a pleasant chill against your burning fingertips.

The only noise that occupies the silence is the clatter of dishes and the sizzling of meat. Your eyes move from Joel’s fingers to Sarah in the kitchen. Your gaze drifts from Joel's fingers to Sarah in the kitchen, where she hums a melody unknown to you, her head bobbing in time with the tune, her wild curls escaping the confines of her hair tie. She seems at peace. Which is in complete contrast to what you and Joel are feeling right now.

It's a mystery to you, this strange dynamic between you and Joel. You're neighbors, you see his brother and daughter nearly every day, yet when the two of you are alone together, which is a rarity in itself, words seem to fail you both, as if they've become adversaries instead of a means of communication. It leaves you to question why it is that you both seem to struggle when in each other's presence.

Taking a deep breath, the lingering garlic and tomato scent filling your lungs, you call out to her, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“I’m sure,” she answers without looking up. “I’m almost done anyway. Just soaking the buns in the sauce,”

Buns…in the sauce?

When you turn to Joel, he’s already looking at you. His lips turn up, arms crossing over his broad chest. He beats you to it before you can voice out the question echoing in your head, “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

The effect his voice has on you is instant. It’s playful, soft, a barely there cool wave of the sea. A ghost of a shiver licks your spine, forcing you to sit straighter. You both relax and tense that you’re finally talking. You swallow, look down at your plate, then wet your lips.

“As long as there aren’t any mushrooms we’re good,”

He cocks an eyebrow and scratches his beard, “Now, what kinda person doesn’t like mushrooms?”

You blow a raspberry into the air which makes him grin. With a dramatic flail, you raise your hands to the air and tilt your head back. “Everywhere I go it’s the same. When will this judgment end?” You call out to an invisible god.

Joel laughs.

He laughs.

And it feels so fucking good to hear the sound. You’re pretty sure this is the first time he openly laughed next to you. Not a polite giggle, or a stifled chuckle. But a full-on, chest-vibrating laugh. It feels good. Sure maybe you didn’t paint anything today, again, but you made the neighbor that you thought hated you laugh. If that isn’t a win you don’t know what is. Your own smile blossoms on your lips. It’s a small one. However, you think it sends the point across that you’re happy to be here.

His hands fall to his thighs, hidden underneath the tablecloth. “Maybe me and Tommy can change your mind. Our grilled mushrooms are to die for,”

“Good luck with that,” you tease. “I’ve been hating them since the day I was born,”

As soon as you finish, Sarah places a large plate of burgers down the middle. They aren’t really big, maybe a bit bigger than your hand. Just like Sarah said, they’re covered in sauce. But the smell is to die for; meaty, garlicky with a hint of spice. She plops down to the spot right across from you.

“Hating what?” she asks as Joel reaches out and places two burgers on her plate then two on yours. He takes four. “Because if it’s fish I agree,”

“Fish?” you balk at her. “You don’t like fish?”

Joel snorts, “Don’t act like her’s is sacrilegious when you don’t like mushrooms,”

Sarah’s eyes go wide, eyebrows reaching all the way to her hairline, “You don’t like mushrooms?”

“Okay, I did not come here to be judged for my food dislikes,” you silence them both with a light-hearted click of your tongue. Father and daughter look at each other, smiling. “So what are we eating?”

“Wet burgers,” Sarah perks with excitement. “The buns are dipped in a garlicky tomato sauce and there’s just a beef patty in the middle. They’re really good.”

Joel nods and picks up a burger with one hand. He addresses you without looking, “I wasn’t sure about it either, but the darn things actually taste decent,”

“You should never doubt my cooking skills,” Sarah answers and stick her tongue out. You let out a hushed giggle.

“Darlin’ I pick out eggshells from my breakfast every mornin’”

“The eggs you buy are faulty.”

“You guys should join me for breakfast,” you cut in, raising the burger to your lips. Red sauce stains your fingers tips. “I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes,”

You don’t look, but you feel Joel’s eyes on you. The small hairs scattered over your arms raise, heat building under your skin. Ignoring it, you take a big bite of your burger.

You’re mad that it tastes so good—good enough that you moan, very loudly, and follow it up with another bite without even properly swallowing the first.

“Told you,” Joel grunts.

Sarah’s eyes sparkle. It’s such a beautiful display of emotion. The eyebrows move first, lifting at the same time her lips start to stretch from side to side. The happiness always hits the eyes last. It’s also the place where emotion lingers the most. Long after it drains away from the rest of the features.

The happiness that Sarah feels is so vivid there that it almost sparks something within you. A faint image of a girl appears in your mind. A girl similar to Sarah sitting in front of a window closed in with climbing roses, only bits of light shining over her skin—

The image fades as quickly as it appeared. You chew thoughtfully, a sting settling behind your eyelids.

“You like it?” she asks. You nod and she turns to Joel with a smug grin. “See, people like what I cook. I should be a chef,”

“I never said the burgers taste bad.”

You chuckle, taking another bite.

“Cut the girl some slack. It’s harder to function in the mornings.”

Despite your protests, Joel is set on walking you home.

You tell him that it’s only two steps away, he doesn’t listen and shakes his head, “If it’s such a short distance it shouldn’t be a problem to walk it with you.”

You’re holding the doggy bag Sarah prepared for you. It rustles in the wind, the burgers still radiating a bit of heat, it makes your skin come alive where it brushes against. The pleasant conversation that seemed to flow effortlessly with Sarah present is nowhere to be found. You dared to open your mouth a total of two times but not a single syllable followed through.

So instead of forcing it, you focus on the pleasant ambiance; the soft wind that feels like velvet on your skin, the soft blades of grass that tickle your bare ankles, and the moon that pours from the heavens. All of it combined to form the perfect night.

You cheat a glance at Joel, his hands are in his pockets, one cheek hallowed out, a clear sign that he’s gnawing at it from the inside. He’s a perfect canvas for the raining moonlight. Dark hair, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. His skin glows in a hue that you can only describe as angelic, the fading scars more vivid in color.

You stare longer than you realize. He steals a glance and clears his throat.

You notice that he’d stopped walking, and your body had too, just by instinct.

“We’re here,” he says, voice thick with an emotion you can’t place.

“So we are,” you answer dumbly, forcing your eyes to move to the door. Recollection hits when you see the two chairs on the porch. You turn back to Joel. “Do you want to sit with me for a while?”

He blinks, brows pinching together in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, sorry I should’ve made that clear. I just remembered that when I first moved in I asked if I could ask you questions about my grandfather then never did,” your eyes drop to the ground. Your chest feels tight and uncomfortable. “I guess I never had the chance to ask you before. But we don’t have to now.”

Joel isn’t the type of man to feel regret. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling it right this second.

His hand touches your shoulder. A brush of fingertips that takes you by surprise and makes you flinch. Joel recoils quickly, fingers curling into his palm as he pulls away.

“We can sit,” he says. “I have time.”

You observe the stars and the moon. Something you used to do frequently with your grandfather whenever you stayed over.

Something must be wrong with you because you don't remember the last time.

You take a series of deep breaths. Collecting your thoughts and preparing yourself to ask Joel what you wanted to ask. You know what your first question is going to be. It scares you to actually go through with it. The minutes tick by. The night grows darker, the stars brighter. But he doesn’t rush you. He doesn’t say a word. He looks up to the sky with you, dark brown flicking from star to star. When you look at him you can see the sky directly reflected in his eyes. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Was he happy?” you finally ask. Your voice sounds scratchy to your own ears. Joel leans back into his chair, fingertips digging into his palm enough so that he feels the sting of blunt nails. He swallows thickly before turning to you.

“He was,” he answers. “He talked an awful lot about you and your brother. He was proud of you,”

You laugh at that, it’s a sudden voice that booms from your chest. Unexpected, and jarring in the silence of the night, “Not so much my brother?”

“Let’s say he ain’t a fan of the choices he made. Not a fan of the military that one,” a small smile peeks underneath his mustache. “He did still love him though. You can tell him that if he asks,”

You nod, eyes once again tracing over every star in the sky, “Noted.”

Comfortable silence envelopes you both. Joel makes no move to get up and return home. His words had doused the fear that lingered deep in your heart.

He was happy. In his last days, he was still talking, complaining about your brother, and saying that he was proud of you. You’re sure you have more questions but all of them seem to slip your mind for now. He was happy. That’s all you need to know.

“Hey,” you hear him call out, voice a rough whisper. “Are you okay?”

Without looking away from the sky, you raise your hand to your face, fingertips touching the wet streaks going down your cheeks. Your hand drops to your mouth, the salt stings your chapped lips. You close your eyes and take deep breaths. You should be done crying.

But then why is your throat swelling? The simple act of breathing becomes harder and harder.

When you open your eyes he’s there, kneeling, one leg tucked under him with the other firm on the ground. His fingers brush a line down your forearms, goosebumps rising in their wake.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” he asks, his eyes looking rounder than ever. “We can talk about it if you need to darlin’. All I want you to do is say something to me so you calm down okay?”

You nod, and his fingers tighten around your wrist, “Words. Please.”

“I’m—I’m good,” your voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. You wet your lips and try again. “I’m good. Sorry, I was actually happy. I don’t know what came over me,”

“You’re still grievin’. And I doubt anyone with a heart would expect you to apologize for that. Do you need anythin’?”

You shake your head and Joel stands up, the warmth of his hand going away with him. There’s a brief pause where you don’t know what to do. Your eyes are still wet. Chest tight. You follow the way he moves; taking a step back and rubbing the corner of his jaw with the pad of his thumb. The sudden mood change disorientates you. He’s anxious. The hand that touched you, twitching like it’s been burned.

“I think you need some sleep,” he says, taking a step down backward. “If anythin’ happens call me—or Tommy,”

Tommy.

The uttered name feels like a slap to the face, a rekindling of a feeling that makes you feel small. A complete mess.

Of course, Joel doesn’t want to deal with all your shit. He’s just being nice that’s all. He already has his fair share of baggage, he doesn’t need yours to stack over it as well. You understand. And to a degree you’re grateful. It had been a lovely evening, one that would make you smile upon remembering. In the end, he’s giving you the comfort of knowing that you can call him—as a last resort.

Standing up, you smile. He’s about to hug you good night, you can tell by the way his body leans forward, arms starting to stretch from both sides. But you stop him by extending a quick hand.

“Goodnight,” you say. His eyes drop to your hand, confusion stirs in his eyes. A soft sigh part his lips and he closes his eyes, taking your hand into his.

“Goodnight, neighbor.”

You stand behind the counter, wiping down the counters with a damp rag as the last of the customers filter out of the shop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of baked goods from earlier in the day.

Beside you, Olivia moves with an easy grace as she washes the final dishes of the night. Her hair, thinly braided and made into two separate low ponytails, falls in loose waves around her shoulders. Her dark skin glows in the dim light of the shop, and her hazel eyes sparkle with amusement as she catches your eye.

“You have someone waiting for you,”

Your brows furrow as you follow her gaze. There’s a matte grey truck out and inside you see Tommy, thumbs impatiently drumming against the steering wheel. You hold your gaze, he peers inside the coffee shop, he waves and you wave back, then you hold one finger up signaling him that he’ll have to wait a bit.

“You should go,” Olivia says. “I’ll close up,”

You raise an eyebrow, not really willing to leave your only friend alone to clean up after you, “You sure?”

“Yeah yeah,” he waves you off, glossy lips stretching into a full grin. “Tell your boyfriend I say hi,”

“Liv…he’s not my boyfriend,” you shake your head but you’re smiling. “He’s a friend. A good one,”

Olivia pouts and you let out a laugh as you untie your apron. “Why not? He’s cute,”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t—Also we’re still on for Saturday right?”

“You know it, babe.”

You head to the back of the shop to grab your bag. As you sling it over your shoulder, you make your way back to the front of the shop and bid Olivia farewell. Tomorrow is your day off so you’ll be seeing her Saturday. She waves to you and Tommy, who—in a state of slight confusion—waves back.

Outside, the warmth of the night envelops you, and you can feel sweat beads starting to form on your skin. You make your way over to Tommy's truck and he greets you with a grin as he leans over and opens the door for you.

“How was your day?” he asks, turning the key and filling the inside with a familiar hum. “I’ll save you the trouble of asking mine; It was shit and I don’t wanna talk about it. I just need food—you good for some fried chicken?”

“If you wanted me not to ask about it you shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” you grin, playfully punching his shoulder. “So what happened?”

Tommy sighs. He flattens his palm against the steering wheel and makes a turn. “Let’s just say that I fell into some very questionable fluids and Joel has pictures,” before you can say anything he adds. “Chicken?”

“Chicken sounds good,” you grin, turning your eyes ahead. “And I can’t wait to see those pictures,”

“Please don’t.”

You notice that something is off by the way Tommy’s fingers curl around the steering wheel. The truck shakes as you wait at a red light. Your eyes are fixated on it, burning your irises. “Are you okay?” he blurts, prompting you to pull away from the red light. A circle of blue forms right in the middle of your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Joel said that you cried last night. I probably shouldn’t say anythin’ but he mentioned it to me in good faith. And I’m worried,”

You internally coil into yourself. Your stomach rolls, hands on your lap forming tight fists. “You don’t need to be—”

The truck starts to move again and he raises a hand, silencing you. “I’m just tryin’ to say I might have an idea that might help. If you’re willing,”

“And what’s that?” you hate how closed off you sound but you can’t help it.

“You need to change the house up a bit,” he answers, he’s talking like he always does but for some reason it feels like he’s mocking you instead. “And I know that’s hard to hear, so, how about we start from a room? Just one room that’s all yours, new paint, new furniture, new things. I’ll help you build it,”

“I don’t want to trouble you,”

“If it was gonna be trouble I wouldn’t have offered it,” he scoffs, his eyes flitting between you and the road. “I’m off tomorrow so I can come by then. Sounds good?”

A soft smile breaches your lips, “Sounds great.”

Joel can’t stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her laughter. The feel of her skin under his fingertips. The way she looked at the stars. How the night sky came alive in her eyes. None of it he can ever forget. Her voice cracked when she spoke, her eyes sparkled under the white moon. It all felt like a movie to him. The tears. The heavy breathing. He calmed her down. She actually listened and allowed him to help.

His life wasn’t a movie though. Some stories didn’t have a happy ending—Some relationships are never meant to last— not even begin. His happy ending was Sarah. The moment she was born his life became a bright light that continuously blinds him.

She’ll have her happy ending too. Just not with him. Someone else, maybe his brother. At least he would still have you close then. He could still see you.

He wanted to hug her. Wrap his arms around her as an unrealistic promise to never let go. But she didn’t want that. He blamed the fact that she was still emotional, too raw to be touched. Some part of him wanted to believe that. He didn’t want to feel hurt by the offered handshake.

Joel swallows down the disappointment. A thick knot in his throat. He grabs his jacket. He’s about to leave and invite her over for dinner again when he hears Tommy’s truck pulling in.

He really shouldn’t but he goes to look out the window. She jumps out of the truck, almost tripping. Tommy’s laughter follows and he offers her his arm. She takes it, the two of them walking to the door. The sight angers him but he’s not sure why. A warm, boiling feeling rolling in his gut. It makes him feel dirty almost. As if he’d betrayed his brother. He hasn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Joel feels helpless as he hangs his coat back, heading to the living room. He falls to the couch, a heave to his chest.

Joel needs to stop thinking about her.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #joel miller #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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moonjxsung · 5 months

Note

I was curious which love trope would you give to each skz member 🫠

I LOVE THIS QUESTION okay hear me out:

Chan: Best friend’s brother. He just gives super sweet guy who comes around your place a lot because your brother’s there, but he won’t hesitate to flirt with you in passing and ask about your day. And eventually it turns into you guys both falling for each other (I literally have a fic of this exact trope and am 15k words into it I’ve been working on for months I NEED TO FINISH IT FFS)

Minho: Opposites attract/“I hate everyone except you”. He’s a little quiet and reserved and you’re a mess, you’re loud and you love him so openly and vocally. You purposely fluster him in public and shower him in affection and he secretly loves it though he’ll pretend not to. He’s never been loved like it before and it instills this overwhelming feeling in him he could never begin to explain. When it’s just the two of you alone he won’t hesitate to make it known how grateful he is for you. You two against the world fr

Changbin: Work adversaries to lovers. He’s the loud, persistent coworker you can’t stand and you guys get paired to do some big project together. He’ll eventually break down your walls and find out you’ve been hurt before and through late night bar trips and working on your project in office after hours you guys will fall for each other. Maybe also because I like imagining Changbin in a suit and glasses a little too much

Hyunjin: Love at first sight. The minute you see him you’re absolutely smitten with him. He looks like straight up poetry, he has soft soft expressions and beautiful features and you just have this urge to know him and get close to him. And lucky for you Hyunjin believes in love at first sight too so when he catches you staring, he’s enamored, too. Doesn’t take long before you guys are approaching each other and arranging for a date and pretty soon it’s like you’ve always known him.

Jisung: Friends with benefits to lovers. People love the friends to lovers trope but I think Jisung starts out as a physical endeavor for you after you guys meet a party or something because physically you just can’t get enough of him. Slowly turns into jealousy when he talks about other girls or can’t see you one weekend. You guys will definitely end up adjusting your rules to stay exclusive to each other and then Jisung will find that he’s really fucking smitten with you and he doesn’t want anyone else. So much fluff but the sex is A1

Felix: First love. Hands down. Felix’s little crush is so mutually reciprocated because he’s an absolute sweetheart and he makes the most kind, grand gestures to win you over. Felix grew up with sisters so trust that he gets veryyy sagely advice about what you want for gifts or what little gestures he can do to earn your trust and your love. It’s kind of dizzying when you guys start dating bc it’s like?? What did I do to deserve this person??? And it’s just safe, healthy, fully reciprocated, beautiful flourishing love !!

Seungmin: Best friends to lovers. He’s constantly texting you, hanging out with you, arranging hangouts with you and just catching up on every detail of your life. He’s bringing you dessert at 3 in the morning after you said you were craving something specific. He’s dropping off his jacket at your cubicle at work because it’s raining and you didn’t dress for the weather. He catches himself talking about you to everyone and people start to know it before you guys even do. Dating him comes so naturally because he’s your best friend before he’s even a lover. Absolute sweetheart to you always

Jeongin: Boy next door/neighbor. Your families knew each other growing up and you grew up hanging out with Jeongin. Chasing after the ice cream truck together, going to the park together, chatting while your moms caught up with each other. Maybe you separate for a while when you guys start college or something but by the time you see each other again, there’s so much attraction and chemistry like never before. He can’t stop thinking about you, and the little hangouts turn into dates where you relive those memories. Picnics at the park, ice cream dates, catching up while your parents have dinner. You never expected to be dating him down the line but it’s so much fun bc you already know him so well!

#ask #stray kids #skz #stray kids hard hours #skz scenarios

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

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Hello! Hope you're having a good day/night/afternoon. Also can I request a Mikaela Hyakuya, Ferid Bathory and Yuichiro Hyakuya x nezuko reader, the reader has nezuko's powers and is basically nezuko. And they see their s/o (nezuko reader) fighting someone for the first time and when the reader was fighting with the person she awakes her full form like nezuko did when she was fighting Daki and she is basically destroying the person she is fighting with, how would they reacted? (Btw you can pick who the reader is fighting with)

That is all thank you <3

Nezuko Reader | Yandere Owari No Seraph

Landing in this apocalyptic and futuristic world with your sibling, there's much to learn. Depending on who you both fall into the hands of it’s a different experience. Immediately your difference from those around you is seen and usually greatly admired. Hence their further surprise when you show a side they’d never seen before:

Yuichiro Hyakuya

Saving your sibling on patrol is where they first meet

Of course, the box they carry is a great point of mystery

One that’s revealed when the sun has gone down and they're safely at the base

“Whoa! You carry your family on your back? Like all the time?”

“Yeah! This way I can always protect them.”

“That’s a really great idea! I want to try it sometime.”

He definitely feels close to you and your sibling

Absolutely loving the bond you two have

Adoring your playful but silent nature

So more likely than not you’ll find himself inserting himself into your sibling's time

Not necessarily to offer himself as a brother particularly but as a part of the family

As he plans to be anyway

Fighting alongside your katana-wielding sibling he finds they work pretty well together

But this particular adversary is especially hard to beat, taking advantage of the night the whole team is struggling

At this point, Yuu is debating calling on Asura but is stopped by his amazement

You look different, no longer childish or pocket-sized

Now he believes your sibling’s description of you as a demon

He watches with envy when your brother has to calm you down

He vows that next time he’ll be the first to soothe your soul

“(Y/n) you’re so sweet so kind…I’m happy to make you a part of my family.”

Mikaela Hyakuya

He probably meets your sibling first when he’s called on a mission to investigate an anomaly on their turf

Put off by his….partner’s aggressive tone and command your sibling is adamant about not causing trouble

But his….partner…gross seems to hit a sore spot when they demand they open the box

The sun is setting and your sibling is putting up a fairly good fight

But poor humans..,all it takes is one hit and debilitating crunch and their down

But the moon is high and the box opens to reveal you

A demon that easily bests their calvary and gives his partner a run for his money

It takes his common sense to threaten your sibling’s life before you halt your massacre

Once you're in custody he shows an express interest in your case

Promising to himself and you that he’d protect your sibling

“Your brother…reminds me of someone else I know. Someone I’m looking for.”

He sees himself in you, turned into something against your will and trying to survive in a world that demands you succumb to your horrid instincts

When he makes a break for it he’s taking you both with him

Once he finds his Yuu then you both can go far far away

So that you both can be monsters away from this horrible world

Even if you struggle and swipe at him

He’s going to help you

He’s going to do this

Your agreement isn’t needed

He’s used to dealing with a rowdy troublemaker

This is no obstacle to him

“Calm down. When I’m done you’ll get your sibling back and that’s all that matters right? Then you will listen to me. And only me.”

Ferid Bathory

A part of the welcoming envoy that comes off too aggressively

A different-smelling human with a box on their back of course he’s interested

Even more so when they fight him upon questioning about that box

Only to find he’s completely at a disadvantage with the animalistic rage that you come out with

“Oh my, to think I thought I knew only one vampire with a sibling complex.”

He is intent on taming you constantly trying to force you to drink human blood or better yet eat human

But you won’t cave

But neither will he

With your sibling in custody and you at his disposal

He feels as though no one can stop him

After all, it worked out the first time he broke a family up

He doubts it wouldn’t work now

He just hopes you don’t freak out like you did before

That was scary it slows progress

“When you finally let go and succumb to your hunger I’ll be there.”

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telail · 2 months

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never alone ⋆.ೃ࿔* c.s

Pairing: Choi San x Gn!Reader Tags: 1k wc, established relationship, angst, comfort, depression, fluff, ateez oneshot 🎧- Runaway by AURORA note: a little message from me to any of my readers or anyone who happens to come across this that you're never alone even in hard times. Luv u all <3 -TAE

In the quiet corners of your mind where shadows dance with light, there lay a battlefield that is scarcely spoken of.

To the world, you move with grace that belies the turmoil within, your smile which has turned itself into a well practiced mask that hides the depths of your struggles becoming nothing more than a display to those outside of your head.

Never knowing that beneath the surface there's a constant war against invisible adversaries– anxiety, depression, and a haunting sense of isolation that clings to you like a second skin.

As of lately each day has become a journey through a fog of internal conflicts, where every step forward is a victory hard-won against the chains of your own mind.

Your world has become one where your mental health is both the monster under your bed and the unseen weight upon your shoulders, a reality that you force yourself not to face.

In these moments of solitude, you battle with your thoughts, the darkest of which whisper of inadequacy and despair. Yet in the midst of this silent war, there lies a thread of resilience– a faint but unwavering light of hope.

Choi san, someone you’d met earlier on in your life. He was a kind soul with a gentle heart that somewhere along the line he’d trusted you to handle with care.

You’d crossed paths with each other when you were just teenagers and from there to now San had turned himself into something you could lean on through a bond sealed with genuine love and trust.

He pays close attention to you throughout the time that you two spend together, it’s always been an attribute of his that you’ve admired. How attentive he was when it came to people he cared about– able to pick up on even the smallest interests and quirks within a person just because it matters that much to him.

Which is why it wasn't surprising when he was the first to notice the subtle shift in your once vibrant spirit.

Where your laughter used to reside, which used to fill his ears and shoot straight to his heart leaving it with a warm fuzzy feeling– had now been replaced by a somber quiet. He noticed.

Sitting at the edge of your shared bed, San reached for your hand, feeling the coldness of your flesh and the silver diamond laced band wrapped around your ring finger. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice a gentle anchor in the quiet of the room.

You look up at him, your eyes vacant of any signs of interest though you try so hard to make it look otherwise. “Hi,” you replied, a ghost of a smile passing your lips.

“You’ve been.. quiet– lately. More than what I’m used to. What's been going on in that pretty head of yours hm?” He encouraged, squeezing your hand.

You hesitated, letting out a shaky sigh as you tried your absolute best to decline the feeling of tears making their way to your eyes immediately at the pure sincerity in his voice alone.

“I don't- it's- it’s like I'm lost in a fog, San. And- I can't see the way out– I- everything just feels like it's everywhere all at one time and it's too much– it's too much for me and I don't know how to handle it because I don't think I’ve ever felt so intensely before.”

San moved closer, nodding his head to give you a sense of reassurance that he heard you, that he was listening.

“You’ve been having a hard time for a while haven't you?” he asked, opening his arms slightly as an invitation to which you nodded and pushed yourself into his embrace.

“I know, I’m sure it’s been difficult baby.” he whispers, kissing the top of your head before continuing “Thank you– for telling me, giving me the chance to reassure you that you're not alone in that fog and that I’ll be here, to help you find a way out of that fog no matter how long it takes- we’ll find a way out, together.”

“You sound so.. sure. How do we really know it’ll all work out, or how much more of this I'll have to take?” You mumbled, leaning into his embrace.

“Because it always does, always. Life gives you clouds but sometimes they get in the way and turn into this inconvenience we call fog. It makes it hard to see and it makes things feel all damp and icky but it clears up, and things dry. I’ve been through some fog myself in life but you made me feel as though it wasn't just me trying to blow it all away on my own. So now it's my turn to do the same for you.”

By now you’d stopped fighting the tears nicking at your tear ducts to be released, a few spilled from your eyes as you asked, “But what if it doesn't lift what if it's just too much, even for the both of us?”

San swiped his fingers gently across your cheeks, ridding your tears with his gentle touch while leaving soft kisses in their trails.

“Then we’ll walk, and we’ll keep walking and we’ll keep blowing until it does. And on days when it feels too much we’ll stand still. There's no rush as long as it's me and you angel.”

You only found yourself nestling closer to him, finding solace in his words. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? That makes two of us.” He says, flashing you his pretty dimpled smile. “Life is scary, but we're in this together.” He said, his tone becoming serious again as he lifted your head, your gaze meeting his.

“We’ll light up whatever darkness you’ve been facing with thousands of little moments of joy and more.. I promise we’ll make it through.” He reassured you, something he was just so unfairly good at.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a genuine sense of hope. In San’s unwavering support you found the courage to face your struggles, not as insurmountable barriers, but as part of your journey together.

A testament to the healing power of love and companionship. Through dialogues of heart and moments of silent understanding, you remind each other that even in the deepest fog, no one has to walk alone.

Thank you for reading. Excuse any mistakes! =) -T © telail 2024 | do not copy, translate, or modify.

#ateez #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez choi san #choi san #angst #comfort #depressing shit #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot

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forestdeath1 · 3 months

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The willpower and resilience of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin in canon and fanon

The main conflict in the characterization of these characters or why those who love the canon Sirius and Remus get so irritated by their fanon versions?

The primary difference between the canon and fanon Sirius and Remus is their willpower and resilience. Not masculinity, femininity, intelligence, beauty, or height. But specifically willpower, resilience, psychological strength, and typical coping strategies.

Canon Sirius

Sirius in the canon has remarkable willpower. Even in Azkaban, after a decade, he looks and speaks like a normal person, whereas other prisoners are insane, sitting in darkness, muttering. Dementors patrol Sirius's door around the clock in Azkaban, but it hardly affects him. Yes, he transformed into a dog, but what primarily helped him, why he didn't lose his mind, is the thought that he was innocent. This thought could not be sucked out by the dementors, but it preserved his mind and self-awareness, and he maintained this thought for many years. He had no strength, no wand, but still, when he saw Peter in a photograph years later and recognized him (good attentiveness even after years in Azkaban), he found the strength to finish what he started.

He retained his sanity in Azkaban for 12 years to make the right conclusions and then find the strength to escape from that prison.

Moreover, he didn't recognize authorities, even years later. He opposes Dumbledore in PoA, stands against his family as a 16-year-old teenager. Moreover, he was the first of the Blacks to be sorted into Gryffindor. He didn't even know if he wanted to be there, but on the train, he thought it would be nice to break the tradition. This was a deliberate act.

Tradition for the Blacks is not an empty sound. Constantly going against traditions is not just impulsive rebellion; it's the ability and willingness to withstand backlash, aggression, abuse towards oneself for disobedience.

Sirius didn't stop at being sorted into Gryffindor. He went further - made "wrong" friends, hung up nude posters, refused to accept family traditions, and eventually ran away. In a closed, strict, and dysfunctional family like the Blacks, it's quite difficult to withstand the constantly looming threat - primarily existential - to your life.

Yes, he lived 10 months a year at Hogwarts, but the threat remained always - he was always the one who was "against", they tried to bring him back, teach him, in Slytherin were his family and childhood friends, who surely interacted with him on a closer-farther level, trying to influence him. Sirius still found the strength to resist. This is a very high level of resilience, and most likely, his psyche always mobilizes in conditions of stress and conflicts. It's as if he gets a second wind.

In OotP, he's locked at home and left to fight not a real external enemy, but his memories. This is a different battle, and in it, he indeed becomes noticeably weaker. For such an active and proactive person, actions are needed; he can't just sit back, especially being locked in a house associated with many traumatizing youth memories. He's trapped in a system that formed beliefs in him that he's worthless by himself and only has value as an heir and representative of the Blacks. And now after Azkaban, he:

couldn't kill Peter,

again does nothing, just "chills" in his house, with Snape, Molly, and even the twins pointing this out.

In this situation, his enemy is within himself, and thus, fighting his internal demons is harder than confronting any external adversary.

Sirius's main enemy isn’t the external foe. The main enemy of Sirius is within himself.

Fanon Sirius

Fanon Sirius is considerably weaker. He's depicted as constantly crying in fanfictions, rebelling for the sake of rebellion (with a dash of sarcasm and odd jokes), and exhibiting teenage snarkiness rather than the ability to intentionally stand up to forces far greater than himself. He cries under parental abuse, breaks down, cries on his friends' shoulders, cries after the Prank, and this is labelled as moral growth.

This isn't moral growth. A person like Sirius doesn't develop morally in this way. It's an attempt to break him within the narrative. The silent treatment after the Prank is also an attempt to break his spirit. Firstly, canonical James would never have given Sirius the silent treatment as punishment (this is a literal fact from the canon). Secondly, canonical Sirius would have taken such "punishment" very poorly, exacerbating his childhood trauma and thrusting him into a vicious cycle of reactivating and manifesting his sense of worthlessness and attempts to conceal it. Why do this to him? Why hate Sirius so much? Why break him when there's another way, a real opportunity to help him?

Canon Remus

Meanwhile, Remus in the canon is entirely different. He too harbours a belief that he's not valuable in his own right. This sense of inadequacy. While Sirius chose a coping strategy of action, which is quite productive, Remus opted for avoidance. Remus consistently avoids, agreeing that yes, he's inadequate. Whereas Sirius prefers to prove that he can indeed be useful, valuable, needed, and important (to those he loves).

Remus stays silent during Snape's bullying, though he doesn't particularly like the situation. He doesn't throw a tantrum after the Prank ("you might" - quite a weak self-defence), while in fanon, Remus reacts like a true drama queen, being offended for half a year and punishing bad-bad Sirius. Remus in the canon avoids! In PoA, he avoids telling Dumbledore the truth because Dumbledore's opinion of him matters, though it's a false opinion since Remus essentially betrayed his trust. That is, Remus is prepared to pretend to be someone else just to avoid disappointment—again, avoidance. The situation with Tonks is the same kind of avoidance. And even when he explodes at Harry, he immediately runs away. Where was Remus after James's death? Unknown. He was roaming the world, perhaps struggling with alcohol (which is also avoidance), not trying to contact Harry. In his interactions with Harry, he also constantly maintained a distance, never emotionally opening up to him.

This doesn't make Remus a bad person, but it's his coping strategy. He avoids. He's not prepared to face a real conflict head-on. He often can't accept it, it's hard for him, he lacks strength. He's willing to die, yes (which is also avoidance), but when it comes to relationships and complex moral experiences, he closes off, dims down, and gets lost. He's quite weak (though sincerely kind and empathetic) in terms of willpower and resilience, fitting well into his secondary role within the Marauders. Again, this isn't bad, and such people are needed in any group; they're softer, they smooth some edges, they're often pleasant, Remus has a good sense of humour, and he's a sweetheart overall. But he's not a strong person in his own right; his coping strategy is not to fight but to retreat into his shell.

Fanon Remus

In fanon, however, Remus has a very strong will, readiness for conflicts, punishments, rescuing, finding solutions. In general, his resilience is increased, roughly speaking, from five to nine. As I've already said, in canon Remus reacted very weakly after the prank, but fanon Remus reacts like a true drama queen, being offended for six months and punishing bad-bad Sirius. That is, in addition to becoming the most important "alpha male" of the pack, he's also the main drama character of their pack, who literally throws passive-aggressive fits for several months waiting for Sirius to realize how bad he is. (The way the Prank is represented in fanon is an excellent example of how NOT to do it)

Conclusion

And it's precisely this difference in resilience, moral and psychological fortitude, and strength that causes the main problems in characterisation and people's attitudes. It's not so much whether Sirius is more feminine and Remus masculine. The main difference lies in their resilience. Sirius has become weaker. He could be feminine, short, and anything else, but remain strong and quite tough morally and psychologically. Remus might be tall, handsome, look masculine, but still remain less resilient.

But gender norms permeate everywhere, and if the fandom wants to see a feminine Sirius, they endow him with a conditionally "feminine" character. Though canonically, Sirius and Remus definitely even physically match their stereotypically gendered psychological characteristics—Sirius more masculine, and Remus more feminine, subtle, and short, as if wanting to disappear and blend in.

Many people's favourite characters have completely swapped places. And while this is interesting to develop and explore, providing additional fuel for the fandom fire (masculine resilient Remus + feminine Sirius = new relationship development options), I personally understand why this irritates many.

Because the primary characteristics, the very foundation of these characters, have been swapped.

Essentially, their very essence has been changed.

#sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black meta #the marauders meta #wolfstar #the marauders #hp meta

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reikodoesfanstuff · 21 days

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No one asked, but I feel like Durge and Enver have nearly the exact same ways they show affection. (Is it good that I put the keep reading so high up? IDK anything about Tumblr etiquette lol)

Enver, coming from a poor family, so much so that he was sold, would go out of his way to shower his nearest and dearest with gifts. It would be things like an expensive wine, maybe a few pieces of jewelry, or an intricately made (but still deadly) dagger. He would also slowly buy Durge so many clothes that, eventually, they're dressed fully in things gifted by Enver. And he's so into that.

He's also brilliant and known to have a silver tongue, they have to be writing verbose and seductive letters or poems back and forth. Enver would be writing things like, "Once the world is mine I will gift it to you and we'll rule together", "Watching hardened killers tremble at your feet makes me envious of their position", or "With me, you'll want for nothing but more pleasure than you can handle." And he sends them within the boxes of his gifts, neatly written and topped with a wax seal of Bane's hand.

Durge, as we know from the "Forgive Me Father" letter, is also a bit of a wordsmith. Their letters would be of a similar tone to Enver's but the words are more like, "Every second spent without your voice in my ears is a new layer added to the hells", "I will hunt your every adversary and ensure they know only misery in your name." and even, "The urge to flay you alive and hear your pretty screams cannot be matched by my need to experience your body as you writhe in the deepest carnal pleasures." All of their poems are haphazardly written on whatever paper scrap Durge can find and half illegible due to being delivered in the open mouths of severed skulls or crumpled in palms of corpses hand-delivered to his chambers when no one's around. Sometimes, they would even be a political rival of Enver's, which they both think is very romantic.

And on that note, body parts are Durge's favorite gift, by far. Bloodied hearts, severed hands holding out a single red rose, cold fingers spelling out a simple message like "Love you" or "Stay safe" or sometimes just a heart shape are left in increasingly intimate places in Enver's home. His front door, the living room, bedroom, and even his bathtub had a corpse display one time! How cute. Durge had quite a hand in raising Enver's political status this way, some were by accident.

And you can't tell me those babes don't shower each other in physical affection behind closed doors. Enver was never shown any compassion as a child. Even worse, he was beaten, often. And now, in adulthood, he can't trust those he brings to his bed as they don't know who he really is or just want the power associated with him. Durge never connected to anyone personally or romantically so physical touch was a rare commodity. They have killed every bed partner at some point in the affair, as the urge commanded. But with Enver, they refuse to listen to it. They want Enver alive, against their father's wishes. As a result, both of them are touch-starved and refuse to keep their hands off each other when alone.

#If you tell me this is false #I WILL cry #durgetash #enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #durge #bg3 durge #bg3 enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 dark urge #dark urge #tw: murder #2 cute chosen falling in love

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chiara-klara-claire · 1 year

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funny idioms

My personal selection of idioms collected here and there. my posts - resources masterpost | aesthetic idioms | words with cute literal meaning

Icelandic 🇮🇸

Ég borga bara með reiðufé 🐑💰 - I only pay with an angry sheep: Okay, but I don't have to like it

að taka einhvern í bakaríið 🥯 - to take someone to the bakery: used as a threat, often in sports, when your adversary is about to experience a heavy defeat.

Finnish 🇫🇮 @finnish-sayings

kissanristiäiset 🐱 - a cat’s christening: an unimportant event or holiday

nakki ja muusi 🍲 - in the year sausage and mashed potatoes: long ago

Ilma on kuin linnunmaitoa 🥛🐦- The weather is like bird’s milk: The weather is wonderful.

Hänella ei ole kaikki muumit laksossa - he/she doesn’t have all the moomins in the valley: they’re crazy

Norwegian 🇳🇴 @hazel3017

Nappe seg i løken 🧅 - Yank the onion: a man who masturbates

Høy på pæra 🍐- High on pears: someone who is arrogant (head gets so big it looks like a pear)

Det er helt Texas! : That’s completely Texas! That’s crazy!

Swedish 🇸🇪( @escapenorth-blog )

Den är paj 🥧 - It’s pie. “It doesn’t work.”

du är ute och cyklar! 🚲 - you’re out and riding your bike! “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Fårskalle 🐑 💀 - sheep skull ; hissen går inte gela vägen upp- the elevator doesn’t go all the way up: stupid

släng dig i väggen - throw yourself against a wall: take a hike 🌲

Danish 🇩🇰 @vikinglanguage

der er kommunister i lysthuset*- communists are in the funhouse: when someone has their period 🩸🏠

skide grønne grise 🐖 💩 - to shit green pigs: be extremely frightened 😰

gåsevin 🍷🦆– goose wine: Water

pølsetysker 🌭 🇩🇪 – sausage german: a very German German or just a way to call Germans you dislike

ikke helt appelsinfri* 🍊 - not entirely orange-free: drunk 🤠

at tale flydende svensk* 🗣🇸🇪 - to speak Swedish fluently / tale i den store hvide telefon**☎️- talk in the big white telefon / ringe til Ulrik** 📞 : to call Ulrik: to throw up 🤮

at skyde papegøjen 🦜🔫- to shoot the parrot: to have luck

Dutch 🇳🇱

Helaas Pindakaas 🥜 - too bad peanut butter (“peanut cheese”): too bad, which rhymes with pindakaas = 🇩🇪 Schade Marmelade: same as Dutch, but with jam

German 🇩🇪 this post by @for-the-love-of-wolves-studies and this @moami

einen Clown zum Frühstück essen/frühstücken 🤡 🍽️- eating a clown for breakfast: not behaving decently/having bad humor

bekannt wie ein bunter Hund 🐶 🌈 - known as a colorful dog: someone known all over town

fuchsteufelswild 🦊 - fox devil wild: super mad

einen Vogel haben 🐦 - to have a bird: to be crazy

Ich glaub mein Schwein pfeift 🐷 - I think my pig whistles: I think I’m dreaming

die Gurkentruppe 🥒 - cucumber brigade: bunch of bunglers

Durch den Kakao ziehen 🍫- throw someone into chocolate: to make fun of somebody or something, to roast someone

die beleidigte Leberwurst spielen 🌭 - to play the offended liver sausage: being very resentful

Hans Wurst 🌭 - Hans Sausage: name to call a stupid person (both m/f)

jetzt haben wir den Salat 🥗 - now we have the salad: look at this disaster that we now have

jemanden hinwünschen, wo der Pfeffer wächst 🧂 - wish somebody would be where pepper grows: to want somebody to be as far away as possible

nah am Wasser gebaut 💧- built close to the water: someone that is easily moved to tears

italian 🇮🇹

Cascare dal pero 🍐 🌳 - fall from the pear tree - find out about something when you were supposed to know it

Far venire il latte alle ginocchia 🥛- make milk come from one’s knees: being a pain/ annoying,

Andare a rane** 🐸 - go (as) frogs: something like online connection is lagging

fare la figura del cioccolataio 🍫 - make a chocolatier’s impression: to make a fool of yourself, be responsible for embarrassing cockups

Che pizza! 🍕 - What a pizza!: “Nuts!”/ used Wien you are bored or annoyed at something

Essere alla frutta 🍎 🍌 - to be at [the moment of] fruit: when the situation is very bad (meals usually end with eating fruit), to emphasize this some people might say al caffè, al dolce ☕️ 🍰(coffee, dessert time)

Un limone 🍋- a lemon: a make out session

French 🇫🇷 this

Chanter en yaourt - sing in yogurt: singing in gibberish, random sounds pretending to sing in [English]

Poser un lapin 🐇 - to put a rabbit: To stand someone up

Avoir le cafard 🪳 - to have the cockroach: To be depressed

Tomber dans les pommes 🍎🍏 - To fall in the apples: To faint

Donner sa langue au chat 👅 🐈- to give one’s tongue to the cat: I have no idea/I give up. used to say you don’t know about something and are unable to give an answer.

Polish 🇵🇱 @pol-ski this post

można z konie kraść 🐎- you can steal horses with him: a trustworthy person

co ma piernik do wiatracka - what does gingerbread have to do with a windmill: it’s irrelevant

*: apparently not used much but wanted to include them cause they’re hilarious; **: maybe regional/use limited to an area

Thanks for contributions: @dasloddl (de), @tetsunabouquet (nl)

#idioms #funny idioms #food idioms #langblr #language blog #foreign languages #danish #Italian #German #Norwegian #Icelandic #finnish #mine #my lists #most are either animal or food

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ruthlesslistener · 9 months

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☠ , ☮ and maybe ൠ with Hollow?

HOLLOW MY BELOVED

☠ Angry/Violent headcanon

-Hollow is naturally extremely slow to anger and is very good at controlling said anger when it starts to kindle, but once they've properly gotten angry, it's all over. Expect a cold, calculative fury that is deliberatly honed to an edge by all their built-up grieviances, as well as a grudge that'll never quite go away. Their siblings get a pass to an extent in that they won't hate them forever if they be annoying about something, but Hollow will also never let them live it down. For actual hatred, though, just take a look at what they did to the Radiance in Dream No More, where they tore open her face and staring deep into her eyes as they held her in place to be ripped apart by their other sibling. That's what Hollow's anger looks like. They've got a long fuse, but the explosives attatched to the end of that fuse might as well be a nuclear warhead

As for the violence aspect of it- they've been trained to be a godkiller, and even if they failed bc the actual plan of attack was rather passive, that doesn't mean that they aren't any less dangerous. They won't ever feel the desire to turn that violence upon the civilians of Hallownest (unless they turn to the Radiance or otherwise be a problem), because they believe it to be their duty to protect anyone living within the caverns, but outsiders don't get that luxury and would be dead in a fight against them before they even had a chance to draw a weapon. Hollow's also got a deeply-buried hunting instinct as well, so there's a double layer of them viewing enemies as both adversaries and prey that makes them extra fatal in a fight

☮ friendship headcanon

-Hollow doesn't really make friends as much as people sort of be nice to them, and they gain increased loyalty to them in return, but I like to headcanon that the closest they ever came to having a friend was with Quirrel, back when he was young and Hollow was still an adolescent. Monomon and the Pale King were both friends (though PK himself didn't think of it as such), so as Monomon's apprentice/adopted son, Quirrel got brought along quite often. Eventually when he was around 15 and learning how to mentor others, he was given permission to practice his lessons on the Pure Vessel as a dummy student, and eventually began to talk to them just as a person and a confident when he was left alone while Monomon and PK did their research. He had no idea that Hollow grew to be quite attached to him in the process, and neither did Hollow- they just knew that they felt calmer and at ease when he was around, and that realization both baffled and frightened them

In post-canon aus, I like to imagine that they reconvene with each other while Hollow's still recovering, and form a closer bond as a god of the lost and their favored disciple. That sounds really fancy, but it's basically just a souped-up qpp that accounts for the fact that Quirrel and Hollow are alien to each other. I also like to imagine them as fwbs when Hollow begins to have heats again post-recovery because Hollow is aroace and trusts nobody but Quirrel, while Quirrel himself is easygoing and curious enough about his friend's strange nature to offer a helping hand

ൠ random headcanon

-This is entirely inspired by Broken Open, but I feel like Hollow would be a really good midwife and/or caretaker for those that are fragile and close to death. The Void is aligned close enough with endings for them to technically qualify as a death god, and they've had enough brushes with it for them to be able to identify it when it's close. More than that, however, I feel like as the God of Nothingness they have a naturally numbing/calming aura around them that stills the world into silence, which is very useful for soothing people who are frightened or in pain. I also feel like their protective nature would mean that they'd naturally fall into the roll of a caretaker, and that a profession opposite from what they were reared for would suit them well, even if they would never be able to fully shake their knighthood. They're a protector first and foremost- they don't know how to be (or want to be) anything else

#slimeel #yknow how tolkien had that whole 'the hands of a healer are the hands of a king'#yeah thats the sort of person i feel hollow to be- a protector and caretaker before a royal #the hollow knight #hollow knight #pure vessel #hollow knight headcanons #ask game #ask meme

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salty-an-disco · 2 months

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Actually here’s something to mull over going by that one bit you said before about how to sides of slim shifty heart don’t want to be gods. What if we apply that to vessels? More specifically on my mind adversary she doesn’t want to leave and is honestly close minded and the triggering point was fighting to the death something she found fun.

Adversary more of a antithesis to shifting mound exemplified how she struggles so much against her and like she’s a demon and her other form a dragon both oppositional to a god or princess she’s like an adversary to slim shifty herself.

But it is her to a degree a possibility one where she abstain from godhood her knowledge the world. All for the sake feeling her very mortal body tear and bleed with the one person she knows her adversary the one who made living fun in the most horrific way.

finally got the brain power to go through this ask and–

YES. TO ALL OF THIS.

Really like how you bring up her being an adversary to Shifty herself, as they both have somewhat opposing goals.

But that’s the thing about people, isn’t it? Sometimes our wants can be contradictory and it feels like a part of us is fighting against the whole, much like Adversary still struggles against Shifty when she’s first taken.

But not only that! Adversary’s behavior may seem like an antithesis to Shifting Mound, as a whole, but they actually have the exact same mindset! To grow, is to struggle; to achieve change, you must go through harrowing experiences. Only that, for Adversary, that meant fighting to the death over and over with an equal. One, that looked a change through a very physical lens, as opposed to the metaphysical one Shifty as a whole aims for once complete.

I love what the vessels views tell us about Shifty, it’s URGH. SHE’S SO GOOD.

#mailbox #slay the princess #The Adversary #The Shifting Mound #stp princess #stp meta #sal rambles

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adrift-in-thyme · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 14: Blood-Stained Tiles (Legend/Fable)

Ao3

Note: Two quick things! First, this will be my last Febuwhump fic. I’m overwhelmed with life rn and am not in the right headspace to continue this challenge. However, I have extra fics and ideas left over from it that I’m planning to write up later on. So keep an eye out ;)

Second, thanks for @ladye-zelda and @skyward-floored for the idea to do a zelink fic and specially Ladye for suggesting that I write something for flying tiles (and for reminding me that today is Valentines XD). And now onto your regularly scheduled fic

CW for blood and injury, torture, and loss of a finger

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Fable walks forward with steadfast determination. Anger burns in her veins, strengthening the magic that twirls gracefully about her fingertips. Her boots clack proudly across the tiled floor, announcing her presence without fear.

Let them know she’s here. Let them come. She is more than ready to face whatever horrors see fit to leap from the darkness.

More than ready to do whatever is necessary to find Link.

It has only been a short time since she entered the dungeon with him and the hero who calls himself Twilight. Her informants had claimed a group of thieves were making their base there. And as her and Legend had both agreed that no run-of-the-mill thief would hide out in this abandoned maze of deadly rooms, they had decided having some backup wouldn’t hurt.

…or she had stated that some backup wouldn’t hurt. Link had seemed strangely perturbed to have the rancher accompanying them.

“We’d be fine just the two of us, you know,” he had mumbled after Twilight cheerily agreed to her polite request. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

But in the end he had acquiesced her wishes, even if it was with a slight — and rather adorable — pout.

Even having some aid, however, hadn’t been enough. The thieves that they had dealt with in the past were not quite the same caliber as the ones cloaked here. That much had become painfully clear when Link had led them into a room full of his most abhorred adversaries.

Flying floor tiles.

And, well, they had certainly flown. First at him, striking his shield despite Fable’s efforts to direct them elsewhere. And then, suddenly, without any rhyme or reason they had begun to drop.

Link had plummeted with a shout that was quickly silenced when his head connected sharply with another tile.

Try as she might, Fable has not been able to rid herself of the sight of his blood, sharp against the glowing white.

She shakes her head in another attempt now, as Twilight fits the last key into the large door. The door that leads to the place where bosses lurk, eager to devour their prey.

“Well, we certainly got here fast,” the rancher comments. The lock falls away, clattering to the floor. “Either these guys aren’t as thorough as we thought or…”

Fable drags in a shallow inhale. “Or they wanted us to come to them.”

The latter theory would certainly explain why when she and Twilight rushed out onto the tiles to try and save their friend, neither had fallen. The tiles had gone back to their usual state — bothersome and painful on contact, but not at all like the cracked ones designed to plunge you into the depths.

Something is going on here, and Fable has little enthusiasm for it.

The door is gliding up now, however, allowing them to step into gloom. And she has no choice but to square her shoulders and walk through.

There’s no backing down now, no matter what awaits her inside this cursed room. Not that that had ever been a choice in the first place.

Though, when the door slams shut behind her and Twilight and a collection of lanterns flicker on, she almost wishes that it was.

Rather than the gargantuan enemies Link had described to her, in the middle of the room a group of men and women stand. Some glare at her as she advances, the rancher close at her side. Others sneer. But their expressions have no effect on her.

The person kneeling amongst them, however, is a different story.

Fable gasps before she can stop herself.

“Oh, Link.”

Violet eyes meet hers, their usual sharpness dulled, pupils mismatched. A trail of blood streams down a small, angular face, stark against pale skin and blonde hair. A once pristine tunic is now dusty and torn.

They have bound him, both hand and foot, and fitted a gag between his pale lips. But he struggles against them anyway.

That fire of his hasn’t gone out, not yet. It won’t ever, if Fable has anything to do with it.

“Release him.” Her voice shatters the leering silence, the force of it belying the fear within. “Now.”

The cackles that meet her order are neither shocking nor welcome.

“Afraid we can’t do that,” one of the thieves says. He grins, showcasing a mouth of crooked teeth — some of which are missing.

(Fable would very much like to knock out a few more.)

“The Princess’ favorite little hero is too precious a treasure to just toss out.”

Another thief smirks. Something glints in his hand. Fable can feel Twilight grow even more tense.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t rough him up a bit.”

“Lay one finger on him and you’ll regret it,” Fable snaps, stepping forward. But the knife zips toward Link’s exposed neck and instantly, she goes still.

Twilight’s hand had rushed to clutch his sword. It falls now, back to lie at his side, balled into a fist.

“Try anything,” the grinning man hisses, “and he’s dead.”

Fury is boiling within her now, a surging mass of molten lava about to bubble over. Fable grits her teeth so fiercely she fears they will break.

“What do you want?”

“Simple.” That cursed smile grows wider. The knife presses closer. “We want free reign to do what we want. Without any royals or heroes intervening.”

Fable’s fingernails slice into the palm of her hand. Her magic calls out from within, begging to be set free.

“I cannot allow that.”

It is quiet for a beat. Then, the thief nods to one of his cohorts situated just behind Link.

“Well, ain’t that a pity.”

Everything happens so fast, Fable hardly realizes it. There is another glint of silver, the sound of ropes being split apart. Link’s hand is dragged forward, fingers splayed on the ground. His eyes widen as he tries vainly to break free.

The world slows for the slightest of seconds. The weapon comes down. Blood spurts.

Link’s scream is muffled. But it is sharp nonetheless, hitched at the end like a restrained sob.

Fable doesn’t doubt that it will remain in her mind forever.

“Every time you refuse,” the thief growls as she presses a hand to her mouth, fighting against the furious tears that press at the edges of her eyes. “We take off another digit. He won’t be much use to you without fingers, now will he?”

A low growl rumbles from Twilight. Anger radiates off of him. Fable swallows her own down.

They will have to strike and soon. She only needs to find a way to do so…

“Your Majesty.” The title is mocking and accompanied by a sweeping bow. “What is your decision? Will you grant us what we want or do you still need convincing?”

“Further convincing will not be necessary,” Fable grits out. Her gaze meets Link’s for a split second before she drags it back to his captors. “Set him free, and I will grant you what you desire.”

Twilight whirls, fury and fear dancing in his blue-gray irises.

“You’re just gonna give them what they want? With all due respect, Princess, they should be imprisoned for this, not given free reign!”

Crooked teeth glint in the dying light of weak lanterns.

“Seems someone still needs some convincing, after all.”

The knife shoots upward. Link’s face grows impossibly paler as he awaits its fall.

“No!” Twilight shouts, hand outstretched, panic in his voice. His body is taut, like a bowstring about to loose an arrow. “Don’t hurt him again!”

Fable steps forward and places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. She can only hope some small reassurance is communicated through the movement. She certainly feels no reassurance herself at the moment.

“Return my knight to me, now. After we have healed him, we can discuss the terms of our…agreement.” She spits the word like the vile thing that it is. A deception dressed up in niceties.

The thief is silent for a moment, thinking. Then, he nods.

“Fine, then. But know if you don’t grant our demands, you’re never getting out of here. We’ve meddled with the magic just for that purpose.”

Self-satisfied chuckles drift throughout the group. Fable smirks, bitterly.

“Very well.”

Twilight glances at her and she meets his fiery gaze.

“Get ready,” she mouths, and his eyes grow large. Just as quickly, they narrow, determination in them. Ever so slightly, he inclines his head.

The thieves bind Link’s wrists again, ignoring his strangled whine as the ropes graze his injured hand. Then, they drag him over, a trail of dark blood weaving in their wake, and cast him at Fable’s feet.

In an instant, she is on her knees. With trembling fingers she undoes his restraints and frees him of the gag. He breathes a shaky sigh of relief as she hurls it away.

“I’m so sorry, Link,” she whispers.

Link offers her what she supposes is meant to be a reassuring grin. It is a flimsy attempt, however, with the blood draining from his hand and running down his forehead, the pallor of his face.

“Not your fault.”

Fable gives his uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. Then, she rises and squares her shoulders.

Magic zips through her veins and streaks outward, roaring about the space. It seeks the places where the spells have been rearranged and warped. The job is sloppily done — never would it have kept two experienced mages and a hero within its bounds — and easily fixed. In an instant, Fable feels the dungeon give a sigh of relief.

The pressure hanging in the dismal air drifts away.

The thieves don’t seem to notice the shift. But Twilight does. A grin lifts his lips, feral and sharp.

He and Fable exchange a glance, before she turns back to their opponents, head held high.

“We cannot grant you what you wish. But we will certainly give you what you deserve.”

Twilight leaps forward and draws his sword in one, smooth movement. Fable sends strands of magic zipping along in his wake. One by one, the thieves crumple, hardly knowing whether their fall was by weapon or sorcery.

They try to fight. Shouting curses and obscenities, they lunge. But their daggers and clubs are little match for the hero and princess. Even their sheer number cannot save them from the onslaught of magic and fierce fight.

And finally, there is but a single opponent remaining. The cursed one with the sadistic grin.

He is grinning no longer. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, eyes glinting as Twilight approaches.

Beside Fable, Link rises shakily, wavering on unsteady legs. It is only her quick hand that keeps him from falling.

“You,” the thief growls, even as the tip of Twilight’s sword presses toward his throat. Even as his companions lie scattered and limp. “You fools think you’ve outwitted us? Oh, you’ve got no idea the power we hold. We’ll bring you down. We’ll bring you all down!”

Scooping up a dagger fallen nearby, he lurches forward, aiming for Link.

Twilight and Fable are fast, but somehow Link is faster. Tightening his grip on Fable’s hand, he brings a booted foot up sharply. It connects with the thief’s chin. His head snaps back and he crumples.

Twilight turns, a slight smirk on his lips. “Nice one, vet.”

Link grins, even as he lists sideways, leaning against Fable’s shoulder. “Creeps can’t take one of my fingers without me getting at least one hit in.”

Fable winces as her gaze travels to the appendage still lying on the bloodied ground.

“I’m not the most knowledgeable on healing magic, but I believe I know enough to reattach it at least.”

“Our traveler can take care of the rest,” Twilight puts in.

“Well, that’s good news,” Link grits out, as the rancher helps him into a seated position. “I don’t have enough room for all my rings as it is.”

Fable’s lips quirk upward just slightly. Gently, she takes Link’s hand in both of her own.

“This may sting a bit,” she says, apologetically.

Link shrugs.

The spell she weaves is a simple one, though one she can easily compound upon, strengthen into something fit to remedy such a severe wound. The glow of it wisps outward from between their clasped fingers in soft clouds of purple.

Carefully, Twilight places the finger back into its rightful place. Link’s eyes flit to the side as Fable’s spell sews torn flesh together and melds broken bone. His pallor takes on a slight green hue.

“It will still be painful,” Fable tells him, when it is finished at last, “but that should hold until we can return to the castle.”

“The sooner, the better,” Twilight says, glaring into the shadows. “We never know what else could be waiting for us here.”

“I agree.”

Fable rises and Link with her. His trembling grip on her hand remains tight. A rush of relief speeds through her at the feel of it.

To think she had come so close to losing him again. Just as she had lost him on the furious seas, tossed about and driven to unknown shores. Far from home. Far from her. Lost in a dream too murky, too thick for her to reach him through.

The tears she has been restraining fight for freedom. Viciously, she shoves them back once more.

Walk forward, she tells herself. Escape this place and get your friends to safety. Then, you may feel the emotions within you. Then, you may break.

“Hey, Zelda?” Link’s voice is uncharacteristically subdued and lacks its usual sarcastic bite. She turns just in time to see him self-consciously rub the back of his neck.

“Thanks for coming for me. And for, you know,” — he huffs a humorless chuckle “— giving me back my finger.”

Fable smiles and it feels good to be able to do so again.

“Of course,” she murmurs, daring to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll always come for you. You know that.”

His cheeks flush a vibrant shade of fuchsia and he stumbles, tripping over his own feet.

Up ahead, Twilight chuckles. “No thanks for me, vet? I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, well, face it, rancher,” Link retorts, obviously still struggling to regain a more normal complexion, “you aren’t a beautiful princess.”

Twilight barks out a snort of laughter, and Fable feels her own face grow hot. Link’s words seem to hit him in the next moment, because suddenly he looks as though he wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

“Sweet Hylia,” he groans, “this is why I didn’t want you to come along!”

Twilight only laughs. And as they walk toward sunshine and safety, Link’s embarrassed spluttering follows them all the way.

#oh and happy valentines everyone!#thanks for reading!#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 14 #blood tw #injury tw #loss of a finger #torture tw #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #lu legend #lu fable #lu twilight #fable/legend #zelink #trin writes #whump #angst

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sexydarkchocolatesposts · 10 months

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2/2 but when Mihawk gets defeated, the Fem!reader helps him get back up and wraps his wound, which catches Mihawks heart? Sorry if this is too much or this goes against the rules. I'm a new fan and I couldn't find the rules on this page. Please do tell me if you don't want to write this, because I need to make sure that it doesn't make you uncomfortable. Thanks if you do write this!

Don't have rules (I'll arrange them at some point when i have the time to start thinking them up currently i'm just swamped with life) this is adorable though I love it and thankx for the request *requests open*

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There's a certain pride that comes with having the world's most powerful swordsman pining for you . If pining meant an intense desire to fight you, leaving whether he wanted you dead or not unsaid. Either way the fact he found you a worthy adversary was praise enough to ignore the glaring question of his intentions.

What Dracule didn't expect when he chose to fight you was just how strong you were. With no bounty, no fame you were an enigma and this underestimate of your power led to his quick downfall.

"H-how." Leaning over you smiled as he lay on back. his unattended wounds trickling blood.

"How ?"

"How did you defeat me." "Well, to put it simply i just did." You reach in your pocket and grab a clean cloth beginning to dab at his injuries attempting to compress the blood loss. "What are you doing?" Shuffling through your bag you looked for disinfectant, when confronted with your lack of it you grabbed a bottle of alcohol and held it to his lips. "Helping you, open." He eyed you suspiciously scanning your face for any ill intent before opening his mouth. Liquid falling onto his parched tongue you continued holding it up for him until it was half empty. Closing it off you grabbed some bandages and began wrapping them around this wounds. He watched in awe as you meticulously treated his wounds. Your deft hands careful not to harm or cause unnecesarry pain. He glanced at your sword unnassuing but strong just like you. As he lay there on the ground the gravity of the technical loss of his title "best swordsman" sinking in. Watching your eyes squint in concentration feature fixed to helping him he sighed, he should be mad. Should be livid that an unassuming person would take away his pride and strip him or that which he held so dear yet as your fingers glazed over him ever so gently he felt peace.

#dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece fanfic #mihawk #one piece reader insert #one piece scenario #one piece

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i-want-all-the-cookies · 3 months

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The Orange Peel Test

This is the result of scrolling through tiktok and coming across a few "orange peel test" videos. Which then made me begin to wonder how some of the characters would react in these situations. Would they pass the test or fail miserably?

Donald-

If you're with Donald it's because he chose to have you in his life. He has no room or time for anything that's not to be taken seriously, and he obviously does his homework on any venture that he invests himself into. Which, in this case, would result in already knowing the kind of person that you are and what you like and don't like. So much so, that you wouldn't have to request such small favors as peeling an orange from him. Most days, he would have a tray set on the tabletop with an already peeled orange, split nicely into slices, ready for you when you get home. It will be the same concept with him filling up items you are low on, such as your favorite granola or shampoo, to the point that you can't even remember the last time you actually bought more yourself. Now he probably won't ever leave you little notes in the way that his mom did to him as a child, because he would hold that memory too close to his soul to share or give out with anyone else, including you, but he would 100% leave encouraging and love filled notes to his own children if you both ever decide to have any.

Jimmy-

Jimmy would give an immediate little sneer if you asked him to peel your orange. Which would be quickly followed up with him just snatching it out of your hand, and complaining a bit about having to do it, while still actually doing it for you. He would also eat half of it himself as he splits the orange apart slice by slice. His reasoning of course would be that he did the "hard" work, so why shouldn't he have some of the reward? The other half of the orange he would stuff into your mouth mindlessly and not too gently, in a very one slice for him- one slice for you, two slices for him- one for you, etc. Once the orange is all done, he will get up to grab another one, and repeat the process all over again. This will continue until you finally tell him that you're full and don't need any more orange slices.

Wolf-

You can't force Wolf to do anything that he doesn't want to do.(Unless you're Donald haha). So really it's a 50/50 chance for it to go your way if you were to ask him. But luckily for you, the one thing about Wolf that is very much in your favor, is that when he's in one of his more giving moods he doesn't hold himself back from treating those close to him. Such as when he takes out his crew for a whole "order whatever you want" type of feast. So the chances of him peeling your orange is pretty high, even with his volatile nature. Just don't ask him in a cutesy voice or by giving him some sad puppy dog eyes. That shit will end up annoying the hell out of him, and you'll end up watching him as he walks away from you, with nothing to keep you company but that sad unpeeled orange you're still holding in your hand.

Jake-

Now you know damn well that Jake would 100% peel that orange for you. Heck, he would even do it with a big smile on his face. He is one of the most openly family and friend oriented person within the Yeongdeungpo union. So he would not only peel an orange for you, but he would also be the kind of guy who would wake up early in the mornings to warm up the car for you. Just to make sure that the windows aren't frosted over and to have the inside of the car nice and toasty. Making it easier for you to just take off in the mornings to wherever you need to go. AND he would do this unprompted and solely because he wants to and because he's able to.

Forrest-

Most people know Forrest as someone who's a complete asshole. Always trying to prove that he deserves the spot he inherited from Myles as Hyeongshin's school head. And truthfully he has the fist to back it up against most adversaries, so most people just try to stay out of his way. But you're one of the lucky few who has gotten to see a different side of him. Where he has been incredibly thoughtful to those close to him, and how he's even taken into consideration his subordinate's discomfort when making his moves within the Unions dealings. So it should come as no surprise to you that Forrest would have no issues with peeling you an orange. Chances are you wouldn't even need to verbally ask the question. All you would have to do is hold out an orange to him with a pleading look on your face. That alone will have him taking the orange from your outstretched hand, followed by him patiently peeling the rind away from it. Then handing it wordlessly back to you once it's peeled, and leaving to throw away all the discarded peels before you even have the chance to say thank you.

Colton-

Now you all know Colton would be a complete and total simp for whoever he's in a relationship with. And he would be SO ready to peel any oranges for you. And not just oranges either. He'll peel you some bananas or some apples. This guy will even go as far as peeling/cracking your pistachios for you! And in my opinion that's even better than peeling an orange.

#Dusting off the cobwebs so I can try to get back into writing #Still thinking about these guys months later 🥲#This love will be for life 🫶#Weak Hero #Jimmy Bae #Donald Na #Wolf Keum #Forrest Lee #Jake Ji #Colton Choi #Webtoons

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 21 days

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❧ 6. Stray Cat

❧ Masterlist - Previous - Next

❧ A/N: Sooo what are we feeling so far, ya'll!

"The weather keeps on getting worse, huh?"

Concern had the black-haired male's mouth twitching into a partial frown. Above him, strokes of light animated the sky in a battle that had even frightened away the stars. The sounds of the aerial conflict was startling too - to say the least. The rumbling was enough to mimic a minor earthquake, which was why Kuroo was considering abandoning his plans for the night. A single kilometre remained on his journey, but the streets were now flooding and his desire to attend a party in soaked clothes was close to 0.

For a moment, he had to wonder, just who angered the Gods above? As this was perhaps the worst storm he had witnessed in his entire lifetime. Okay, 25 years may not seem much to most - but it's two decades and a half!

After exhaling an elongated breath, he managed to convince himself to continue a bit longer. Kenma seemed to desire his presence, and there was also Koutarou who had almost separation anxiety. The thought had him chuckling lowly to himself. And as for his clothes, someone would lend him something, right?

Eh, that was a problem for when he actually arrived.

The pathway to classroom H9 was mostly deserted, although he did pass by a few stragglers rushing to find shelter. The scowls on their faces and the curses uttered under their breath had Kuroo shaking his head with a faint smile.

The rain appeared to be the primary adversary for the students of Sacred Arms Academy today.

Well, except for one.

A lone occupant could be observed on the bench ahead, sitting with her head against the backrest. What stunned Kuroo was that she was simply accepting the disastrous climate. From his current vantage point, he could not make out whether or not her eyes were open. However, he could see clearly that her face was taking most of the brute force of the rain.

The scene resembled a painting; one that would cause viewers to pause and ponder what exactly happened to the subject of the work. Was she heartbroken? Was she lost? Or was she purely insane? Or was it something beyond the average person's comprehension?

Before Kuroo's mind could catch up to his feet, he was already moving towards you. Whether it was sympathy or the pull of curiosity, he did not know. And as he proceeded closer, a strange thought occurred to him - was she hiding her tears in the rain?

The identity of the person only registered when he was stood right beside you. Mikage Y/N. Reo's older sister. The one the younger male was worried about.

Upon closer examination, it was easy to determine that you were outside for at least 15 minutes. Not an inch of your face or body was spared from the wrath of the harsh weather. Mascara was smudged on the corner of your eyes, and yet you still somehow looked breathtaking. Truly a worthy subject for a piece of art.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to use an umbrella when it rains." Kuroo shifted the umbrella within his grasp as he leaned in, it was large enough to cover you both to a degree. But he was content with getting a bit of rain on himself now. Perhaps, you inspired him just a bit.

Your heavy eyelids flutter open when you hear the unfamiliar male's voice. If you were in a different mental state, you probably would have been startled to see a handsome man peer down at you. But after enduring your father's latest lesson, you were defeated and desired nothing more than to drown in the rain devastating the city.

"I didn't ask for your kindness." Your attention lazily flickers to the umbrella now sheltering you before returning to the man ahead. He's staring so intently with curiosity twinkling in his irisies. And all you can do is return his interest with an empty glare.

"There are some things you don't have to ask for." Although he was hesitant for a second, a playful smile tugged at the end of his mouth. "And I'd be a pretty big asshole to ignore a stray cat without an umbrella." He had prayed silently that his teasing remark would at least earn him a smile. Or even a crack in your cold facade.

Oh, he was surely mistaken.

"I'm not an animal that needs saving." To catch the male off guard, you lifted yourself from the bench suddenly, causing him to stumble a step back. Surprise morphed instantly into amusement as he took in your unusual stance. "And let me give you a warning, since you clearly need it. Unnecessary kindness can kill. You're going to school with cutthroat assholes, you might as well learn to behave like one too."

Despite the pellets of liquid colliding with your body, you crossed your arms over your chest protectively. Sure, you probably came across as a lunatic. But it was better that way. Nothing in this life came free. Everything came packaged with expensive price tags, and you were exhausted from continuously paying the price.

"Anyway. Please stop looking at me like that. I also didn't ask for your pity, and I don't deserve it either." Pressing your teeth together, tension formed along your jawline.

Just why was this man so interested in you? Why had he not left yet? Why was he still standing there, watching you with those damn eyes?

"I'm not sure what you're talking about and why you're so angry. But accepting help in a shitty moment isn't a bad thing. It doesn't make you weak." Honestly, Kuroo had no standing to attempt to reason with you. Yet he found himself rooted in his spot and overcome with a desire to comfort you. It probably had to do with the moment earlier, when you secured gazes. He had never come across someone with eyes that displayed true and unadulterated sorrow. And while he knew virtually nothing about you, his chest was overcome with heartache.

No one should have to suffer that much.

"I didn't ask to be taught a lesson. I've had quite enough of those. And I understand the world well enough." Why were needless words spilling from your lips easily to a stranger? Even that question puzzled you. Did you not just spend an entire week avoiding conversation with your colleagues?

The only reasonable possibility was that your father's manipulation had commenced its reign over your mind. His desire - no.

His instructions were for you to become a socialite, one that everyone envied but no one was able to touch. A lethal individual truly, one that every man knew to remain clear of. It had appeared your two-minute conversation with the gamer had reached your father's ears, and he was rather displeased. That was why much of his lecture focused on how a lady is to behave around men.

And the person in front of you was certainly a man, and an incredibly attractive one. Not that it mattered.

Right now, you appeared as a damsel in distress. When in reality, this was a form of suffering you had chosen.

"So, I'd suggest that you go on your way and stop looking for people to save. Because clearly your hero radar is broken." This was the final thought you had selected to vocalize. It was enough to repel any ordinary person. Who would want to waste their time on an ungrateful bitch?

Right?

"Wow, my hero radar." A hand was sent to his chest to feign hurt from the strange insult. However, by this point, your back was turned towards him and you were already starting to walk away from the scene. It was peculiar just how confident your strides were despite the fact you were undoubtedly soaked and shivering.

Internally, the voice of rationality suggested that he leave you alone from now on. But it was the other voice that was much more convincing.

For some bizarre reason, he felt compelled to seek you out again. And based on the whispers in the hallways, he knew exactly how to make your paths cross again.

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