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uhmprobablynot · 1 year

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HEAR ME OUT jock/bully!schlatt x nerd!reader 🤭

The way your brain works? Literal chefs kiss. I have a part two in the works that adds a bit but I didn’t want this to be too long. Let me know if you want the part about the game, and maybe some,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, other things :)

Part One > Part Two > Part Three

He is so mean.

You watch him laugh in the middle of the student center with other members of his baseball team. Knowing Schlatt, he was probably bragging about a girl that was fawning over him like everyone seemed to do. You pretend not to understand why girls seem to throw themselves at him but his toned legs, tanned skin, and big stature that followed being a student athlete solved the mystery rather quickly. But he is so mean.

Last semester when you were forced by your computer science professor to sit next to Schlatt, he used every chance to prove that. From constantly berating your programming work, making fun of you for minor missed calculations, to making you feel stupid for just not understanding some of the material. You were thankful that the class was finally over when December came around, hoping that you would never be subjected to that again.

Then January came and so did your American History course. When you walked through the classroom doors you almost turned right back around when you saw him already lounging at one of the tables. Legs wide and his arms back behind his head. Instead, you only cursed and sat at a table away from him. He smirked and moved to your table.

“Aw y/n, how come you didn’t sit next to me this time?” He asked. You only glared at him and pulled out your notebook and laptop. Hopeful that your silence would make him move, but he stayed right next to you. The first week of that class passed by the same way as last semesters did. Schlatt insulting you or taking your notebook when you weren't looking. When the first test came around Schlatt taunted you.

“Careful that you don’t fail this one too, we both know your testing average.” Schlatt smirked to himself as he saw you take a steadying breath.

The next class meeting the professor passed the tests back out. You beamed as you saw the 97 in red ink at the top of the paper, but you also saw the 53 at the top of Schlatt’s. You did your best not to smirk, good riddance, you thought to your self.

Weeks passed just like that, Schlatt making passes at your intelligence. Yet, each week you watched as his grades stayed around the 50-70 percent mark. The scores only dropped lower once baseball started, and so did his comments about your intelligence. Instead his comments focused on things that were harder to just ignore.

The professor was talking about Chicago’s ugly law in 1881 and Schlatt smirked and leaned over to you.

“Looks like you wouldn’t have been able to leave the house in Chicago.” You felt your stomach twist. You were used to his comments but that one just hit harder than you were expecting. Nodding you felt tears in your eyes as you just focused back on the board in front of you. “Oh come on,” He poked your side and slowly his smirk shrank as he realized you weren’t backing down this time.

As class was dismissed the professor called for both you and Schlatt to stay. You half wanted Schlatt to be chewed out because she had heard his comment to you, the other half just wanted to forget that it ever happened.

“I asked the both of you to stay because I got this email this morning.” She pulled up an email to the big screen from Schlatt’s baseball coach. You didn’t read the whole thing but one point did stick out. If he can’t pass, he can’t play. Schlatt tensed up as he also read that part of the email.

“Professor-” “Mr. Schlatt please let me.” The professor turned off the board and looked at the both of you. “I hoped that you sitting next to y/n would remedy your grade in my class, but it has not.” The professor took a breath. “I cannot offer too much extra credit as I have more then enough to grade now, but I will offer one project grade and advise to study and do my work.”

Schlatt takes a deep breath and thanks the professor. You shifted in your seat nervous and confused as to why you were here. “Y/n, I wanted you here because you are my best student, I was hoping that you would be willing to form a study group or help Mr. Schlatt.” You begin to shake your head, his previous words echoing in your head. “If you do more than five hours of it, I will exempt you from the final, if you wish.” It’s your turn to take a deep breath. You look towards Schlatt but he was already looking at you, some kind of pleading look in his eye, so you agree.

The professor thanks and dismisses the both of you. The second he can Schlatt is up and out of his chair moving towards the door.

“I have an hour before practice every day, at three. I’ll be in the library.” Then he leaves.

The rest of that day goes by in a blur, the next time your brain kicks back in you're walking into the library. You see Schlatt already sitting at a table with his laptop out.

You slide into the seat across from him and he looks up at you. You pull out your own laptop and pull up your notes for the class.

“Did the professor let you know about that project?” Schlatt nodds and turns his screen to you.

It’s a minor presentation and paper about how a topic of his choice has made a lasting impression on american culture. You nodd as you process the information.

“No -I don't have any ideas yet.”

“Okay,” you both sit in silence for a minute. The project was due before the final, so Schlatt had a good month to work on it. “We have a test on Friday, do you want to work on that some?” Schlatt only shrugs and you slowly start.

“Why is, what do, why-” You struggled asking. He smirked at your struggle before remembering he was using his mean face right now. “Why do you think you are struggling so much?” You whisper. Schlatt straightens in his seat.

“I just forget what we learn in class,” He clears his throat. “I zone out a lot.”

You smile to yourself, “Baseball that mind consuming?” He stares at you and thinks about your words before chuckling lightly.

“Yeah, something like that.”

The tension between you two lightens after that. You walk him through todays lesson. And work backwards. About 45 minutes later your phone starts buzzing with a silent alarm. Schlatt chuckles.

“So eager to get rid of me you set a timer, impressive.” You smiled but shook your head.

“No, I know the field is a good five minute walk so I wanted to make sure you had enough time, I don’t know how harsh your coach is.” He seems taken aback by the fact. He smiles lightly and packs his things. You just watch him. Watching has his biceps move and how his muscles shift as his moves.

“Here,” He reaches out towards you with twenty dollar bill. You watch him confused.

“I don’t want that.”

“And I don’t care, dumbass take it.” You only shake your head and begin to pack up your things. He sighs. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow, idiot.”

The next few days pass like that. You meet at the library at three, the both of you study and work on his project.

“Are you ready for the test tomorrow?” You ask him as he starts packing up for practice. He nods.

“The professor is going to make my grade viewable right away so I know.” Schlatt looks nervous. “I really hope I do well, I love playing, I want to play.” You stand up with him and touch his arm.

“I believe in you man, you got this!” He stares at the hand on his arm for a second, hesitating before brushing it off him. He flashes you a smile.

“Well if I don’t, we know who to blame, yeah?” Schlatt patts your head before moving around you and leaving the library.

The test was easy to you. Studying with Schlatt keeping you extra prepared with the information. You leave as you finish the test, casting Schlatt a confident glance as you leave. A silent, you got this, that you hope he hears.

As you exist the classroom you look at the benches lining the wall outside the classroom, and you decide to wait for Schlatt.

He finally exits the classroom and you stand instantly. He spots you just as quickly.

“You didn't leave?”

“No, I wanted to check in with you when you finished.” Schlatt smirks at your confession.

“Well,” he says letting the anticipation build. “I got a 95!”

“Hell yeah,” you yell. “That means you can play right?” Schlatt nods. “At least tomorrow.” You beam at him, happy that the time has been paying off. “Speaking of," He stops for a second. "Do you want to come watch tomorrow?”

His question catches you off guard. He went from barely putting up with you to asking you to see him play within a week? Schlatt sees the hesitation on your face and retreads. “You don’t have to it’s okay-” “I’d love to,” You interrupt. “When is it?” Schlatt’s smile is blinding.

“It starts at four,” He takes his backpack off and reaches for something. “Take this and wear it. I’ll let the ticket people know your name that way you get into the,” he hesitates slightly. “The team’s section right near the dugout.” You take the shirt he hands you. “I have class but, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” You nod and clutch the shirt to your chest. Schlatt smiles again before leaving the building. You look down at the shirt he gave you. The schools baseball jersey. You flip it over curiously and across the back is Schlatt and a big 14, which you only assume is his number. You laugh to your self, he gave you his jersey.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt #schlatt #schlatt smut #let me know if you want the other part to this that would contain some spice to it #I really just didn't want this to be annoying-ly long #ily'all #That's all folks - I have spoken

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randomgurl2326 · 5 months

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Welcome To Th- Oh Shit… Part 2

A/N: Welcome back to part 2 of my Sanji fic. I don’t know how you guys liked that one(after I was finished writing it I didn’t really know how to feel about it). But thank you for all the support, love you!💚💜

TW: angst, severe angst

Y/N POV

You know that feeling like you have to cry but you have to keep it in? Yeah? Well, that’s exactly how I feel right now watching my ex-husband help my captain from the water.

No matter where I go, I can’t seem to get away from him, like a puppy who always finds his way back home. These last two days, I’ve been trying to avoid him all I could, but at every fucking turn he’s there.

Currently, I am chest-to-chest with Sanji (really, head-to-chest but I digress). That stupid fucking smirk on his facing always telling me he’s going to say something stupid, or hot, it’s hard to tell.

“I see you fruitless efforts have failed yet again. Ready to talk now,” Sanj asks with a certain twinge in his voice. Honestly, how dare he. He knows what happened, and he knows it wasn’t my fault…

Flashback 2 YEARS AGO

“Sanji, I have had enough of this shit! You know how I feel about this! About what you do,” after todays shift I was pissed with my alluring chef, so fucking careless.

Sanji throws his head back, without a clue of why his wife is upset with him, “And I’ve told you million times: I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Right, right. Play the dumb card, see where that gets you. You know how I feel when you flirt with those thoughtless women,” my anger seething through, sure enough Zeff could hear us.

I start pacing around our shared room no thoughts but anger running through my mind. I knew Sanji was a flirt, but I never thought he would ever take it this far.

“Oh yeah? And what about you and dimwit at 5, huh? Don’t think I didn’t see that.”

That motherfucker, he knows I don’t do this willingly and he’s over there on a high-fucking-horse thinking he’s got me.I stop and look dead in his honey eyes, “Don’t. You know, you know,” tears starting to burn in my eyes as I point my finger at him, “No. No…” I take a deep breath and yell, “OUT! Now! Get out! FUCK!”

As I move, I bump into Sanji and move past him. I don’t see his heart broken, confused face. I just see my anger and I start packing everything in my bags. My eyes still burning, leaving, thinking I’ll never come back or see him again.

Flashback Over PRESENT DAY

I look up to him and think back to that day, not realizing he didn’t know, me being selfish, not even thinking about him or letting him explain. Tears pool in my eyes as I look up to him, my voice small.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” it’s never ending, I just keep on saying ‘sorry’ like my life depended on it.

As I keep going, he pulls me into his chest and strokes my hair, shushing me to calm me down. “Do-Don’t say sorry, mom cherie,” his silver voice soothing me as I hiccup through the tears.

I can’t look up at him, I can’t face him. My once epic love, ruined from one night, me being stupid and selfish.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that night. I’m sorry that you didn’t know. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you-hiccup-I’m sorry, my tears temporarily subsiding, me looking up at him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re here, I’m here,” his voice a remedy to my deafening sobs. His hand caress my face, him wiping away my tears. “It’s okay, I love you. I love you,” his voice breaks, and I look up to reveal him crying, just like that night.

I don’t hold it in anymore—I can’t hold it in anymore—I take the leap. I kiss him. That once epic love all coming back, to the both of us. As our lips part, I whisper, as if a well-kept secret, “I love you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A/N: I know, I know, so much angst! Anyway, part 3?

Taglist: @mirophobic @thesadvampire @navaeh-jasso (wouldn’t let me tag you) @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @knave-hearts (wouldn’t let me tag you) @under-kitty @zzbloody-animezz @hearts4zoro @captaincupio @katheryn1 @what-the-stories-have-foretold @armaria @art3misa635

#one piece x y/n #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #opla sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla x reader #opla netflix #opla nami #x reader #opla fanart #opla cast #one piece x reader #one piece sanji #one piece

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warmmilk-n-honey · 11 months

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So I've been seeing a lot of dadbastian hate lately in the confessions-which is fine you are completely in your right to not like something I do. As a dadbastian scholar I just wanted to write out some of the reasons I and others love it because I will take any opportunity to talk about dadbastian lmao.

I think dadbastian is interesting because of the inherent angst of having a parent/child relationship that is inherently incompatible due to the difference in species between father and son, (this can also lead to funny/cute hijinks) more about that down below 👇

Let's talk about Coattails, the dadbastian fic. Part of the appeal of Coattails is seeing Sebastian transform from how he is characterized in the manga, to a loving parent, and having him grapple with the guilt of contributing to Ciel's trauma. There's catharsis in Sebastian beginning to feel the way we feel for Ciel when reading the manga. I can only speak for myself here but reading the manga feels like a thousand knives being stabbed into my heart knowing that Ciel will never get the help he desperately needs, thus Coattails provides a sort of remedy to this with Ciel's trauma being properly addressed. It's not that I don't like the dark story of the manga, but it can be nice to have a more comforting alternative with the characters I love. And while it is comforting, there is also a lot of angst that goes with that comfort. They say the worst thing a parent can go through is outliving their child, and that is inherent in Ciel and Sebastian's relationship because their species aren't compatible with one another. Sebastian also may not be the best person to parent Ciel, but he's all that Ciel has, he's doing his best but worries about failing the child. Manga Seb is a very static character, so giving him more human emotions and feelings uwu can make him more dynamic and interesting to write/read about. There are just endless things you can explore with the monster parent/human child dynamic, it is simply chef's kiss.

I also want to dispel that myth that dadbastian is inherently "wholesome," because it certainly doesn't have to be. You can explore abusive dynamics with dadbastian and explore Sebastian's demonic personality. My biggest issue with the way Yana characterizes Ciel and Sebastian's relationship is the psychosexual aspect to it that is not properly explored nor addressed. It is just there for gross fanservice reasons-I could write an entire essay on that in of itself. Dadbastian can provide a way to explore this abusive dynamic without the sexual undertones that can be quite triggering for some people. Also to say Yana doesn't purposely make their relationship parental on any level would just be false, it's just that she combines "the filial with the erotic" to quote that academic Black Butler essay written like a decade ago lol. Dadbastian simply takes out the erotic side that is not thoughtfully addressed within the manga to make it a more straight forward abusive parent type relationship.

TLDR; I think many of us are attracted to dadbastian because it makes Seb into a more interesting and dynamic character than he gets to be in the manga, cuts out some of the uncomfortable "undertones" in there relationship that are not properly explored/addressed in the manga, there is a lot of angst to their monster parent human child relationship, and having Sebastian be a loving parent can be cathartic for many because Ciel's whole personality is that he needs a mom. idk my brain is just filled with serotonin when Seb tucks his kid in or something-I can't explain it!!

Dadbastain is the best thing this fandom ever invented y'all are just mean

#guys idk what happened I just kept writing and writing and writing and this monstrosity came out #I need a goddamn editor for my weird little essays #kuro #black butler #kuroshitsuji #dadbastian

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fairy-eclipse · 2 years

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AHHHHHHHHH invisible string was so good! Your writing is absolutely divine *chefs kiss*. Would you ever try to make a part two for "Devil's Sweet Demise"? IDK I love the grumpy/sunshine trope. It's completely fine if you don't want to!

Devil’s Sweet Demise II

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

A/N: due to my inability to shut up this thing is LONG and it’s not even finished yet :’] editing was so painful you don’t understand i’m sobbing on the floor ahhdshaj. what do you mean it’s been three months 😒😒

anyway here’s 5k words of tom being a total jerk in denial, thank you anon and thank you to @sociomoon for the original idea !!

Part 1

Disdain on their faces. Cold creeping up his skin.

The day Tom had known happiness was off the table was the day they shunned him, left him standing there in his oversized, threadbare shirt—he’d watched in silent resentment as their game of Hopscotch played out on the concrete. It had hurt only a little to realize that despite his best efforts to acclimate to their mob mentality, the place would never be home. And company would come in the form of twisted thoughts and talking snakes until hell froze over.

Even when the memories have been blotted out, buried in the depths of his mind and left to stew over in the hush of night, every now and then Tom can't help but remember. Remember that unlike the anger and hatred that runs through his veins forevermore, happiness will never be a familiar feeling.

Until in comes the most frustrating little badger he’s ever met, lugging rainbows and sunshine and unwelcome feelings by the boatload.

And Tom, with his knack for persuasion, can proudly say he can elude blame for most things. It’s not his fault everyone falls for his carefully-crafted smiles and well-woven lies, or intimidation works wonders on the student body. Or that fountain pens are more convenient than quills.

But as much as he wishes he could, he just can't find any rhyme or reason to the fact that your presence is…an antidote.

A strange remedy for the jagged pieces of his heart.

"You know,” your gentle voice carries from above, and Tom is pulled from his reverie to the sound of lush grass rustling under your feet. “You really have a thing for secluded places."

In a vast courtyard teeming with dense crowds and lone studiers, of course it’s you who finds him.

Tom raises a derisive brow. “Perhaps it’s to get away from you.”

He sees to it that you don’t miss the way he shifts in some semblance of an invitation.

Laughing, you step out of the June sun to plop down beside him against the trunk of an old elm tree. Going on a few thousand years, if Tom has to guess. Its winding, leaf-coated branches cast dancing shadows across the ground.

“Classes drained the soul out of me.” You let out a muffled yawn.

Like a kitten.

Tom frowns.

He’s no stranger to intrusive thoughts, but lately they’ve been odd. Unpredictable. Not to mention it’s only when you’re near that they seem to materialize, and, well, he isn’t so sure what that could spell. To analyze a yawn, for Merlin’s sake…

But you’ve always been a bit of a distraction, haven’t you?

The rhythmic drumming of your fingers on your lap can attest to that.

He watches as a faint smile pushes at the corners of your lips and a dreamlike quality glazes over your irises—both tell-tale signs that you’ve come bearing good news.

Not that he cares or anything. It’s none of his business, none at all because honestly what does it matter if you—

"You’ll never guess what happened today.” You declare, triumphant when you meet his eyes.

Tom’s breath catches in his throat. “Hm?”

Maybe the earth can swallow him whole.

You beam. “Professor read over the report from my tutor this morning. He told me that at the rate I’m going I’ll be caught up in no time!” You clasp your hands together. “On top of that, I passed my practical exam with soaring colors, so things are going swimmingly."

Tom had forgotten about your struggles in Charms—arguably the easiest subject Hogwarts has to offer. He can sympathize with needing a little assistance in Arithmancy, maybe even Runes to some extent. That is where the average student has their pitfalls, after all. Charms, though?

It certainly isn’t common, to say the least.

But he really wishes you’d quit looking at him like that. He wishes the radiant twinkle in your eyes wasn't so adorable and you’d stop grinning expectantly like his acknowledgment would make your entire month.

Yes, nobody should be behind in Charms. Tom decides he doesn’t particularly care.

"That's a decent amount of progress in just a few weeks.”

There’s a moment of peace, a second of placidity before Tom’s brain turns into turmoil.

Why did he say it?

To make you happy? For the sake of something so trivial as your feelings, with nothing to gain for himself? Impossible. He’d never stoop to such—

“Thank you!”

Your infectious smile boasts only sweetness and light, but to Tom’s absolute horror it’s in that instant that you decided to inch closer—he has no time to prepare himself before he’s falling into a heaven comprised of the fragrant smell of your shampoo and the softness of your gaze, an erratic tha-thump reverberating throughout his chest all the while.

Distantly, he sees your mouth moving, knows you have to be talking, but God has breathing always been such a laborious task?

Well, the world can burn for all he cares because nothing else matters save for the heat radiating off your shoulder. Nothing else compares to the bliss.

“—om?” Concern seeps into your tone.

No, no, no. It has to be wrong, all of it.

He fights desperately at the haze for his bearings, wills his focus to trickle back in and reins to be found again. All too slowly the stupor relinquishes control and the feeling of repulsion emerges from the fog, shame not far behind. Tom closes his fist around a tuft of grass.

He sees it now, in all its foul glory. He has it muddled up—the point where wanting ends and doing begins—and if there ever is a master of self control it’s him. The patient, composed, self-restrained student extraordinaire. It’s degrading that a mind of his caliber could simply stop functioning. Frozen, reduced to nothing, like a used parchment purged of its contents.

Could he be possessed? Insane?

Tom knows he’s insane, has to be for the plans he’ll carry out and unspeakable things he’ll do in the coming years. But this is a different kind of insane. It’s the kind that challenges all he’s taken to be set-in-stone, that threatens his beautiful, tragic world of black and white and red.

It's the kind that could sever the rope between mere life and immortality.

And yet Tom can’t decide whether it’s a curse or a blessing when you cast your eyes away in lieu of foraging through your satchel.

He’ll have to…look more into this matter. He’ll tear up the library in his wrath; he’ll search all over, high and low and in every nook and cranny until the thirst is satiated—

“Tom, Tom, Tom. Tomato. Tomfoolery. Oh, there you are!” You find his eyes once more, completely oblivious to the pathetic feeling closing in on him. “This is for you.”

A book flaunting loose threads sits on your lap, worn and flimsy.

Tom knows it’s one of those muggle stories you like to read, ones with the plotlines he can never understand and messages he can never grasp. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to—he’s tried at one point, and he does indulge in muggle literature on occasion (it’s not his fault they’re informative)—it’s just…well, he doesn’t think he can.

"I wouldn't have picked it for you if I didn't think you'd enjoy it," you assure him matter-of-factly.

He blinks. By no means are you adept at reading him, but it is strangely pleasant that someone should see past the anger and ire into his quieter, rarer emotions.

"A little broken, I know." An amused chuckle escapes him at that. You grin sheepishly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love it.”

Sincerity on your face. Warmth hugging his skin.

Your fingers brush against his as you press it into his hands.

But how can he dare dream of anything more when darkness is a constant in his life? He has never wished to see the rainbow, has never found any appeal in a kaleidoscopic world until you stumbled into his life. You ebbed away at the corners of his concrete barriers until little by little the light shone through the cracks.

And Salazar. He wants to do something to you right then. Something way out of line, something that goes beyond his protective urges and against everything he believes in.

Regardless, he can always break away, can't he? When the time comes, he’d toss you into the pile of people who served their use and then he'd never have to deal with that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest again.

Yes. That is what he'd do.

So things are good, wonderful even; they’ve never been better and Tom has never been happier, at least he thinks that’s what it has to be. For once it’s not the promise of power or the vow of eradication that get him up in the wee hours of the morning.

And things are good.

Right up until they aren’t.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

“My Lord.” Mulciber fidgets nervously in the gold candlelight. Clears his throat. Once. Twice. “Do you think...will there be enough time to find the chamber before vacation commences?” He grips the rim of the table with ring-clad fingers until his knuckles turn a pasty white.

Tom bites back a sneer. Coward.

"You fret for nothing. While you incompetent fools were lazing around, I was scouring every inch of this castle. I'm quite certain I've found the very place Salazar Slytherin built his foundation on."

Tom bathes in the outbreak of gasps and elated cries before silencing them with a hand.

"I will not be disclosing the location; I alone will find a way to open it, though I doubt any of you would have proven to be of help anyway."

Tom watches them deflate, like he’s pierced their spirit with a needle. Perhaps this way they’ll learn that with him, making an impression takes more than a feeble attempt or two. Besides, he has yet to discern the loyal from the fainthearted and with so many things that can go wrong, there is no room for mistakes.

He holds everyone’s gaze for a few tense seconds (most of which end in rather pitiful quivering on their part) before continuing on.

“As I have discussed previously, our years at Hogwarts are drawing to a close. We have time, of course, some of us more than others, but we must plan every move meticulously.” Tom allows himself a satisfied smile. He’s been so painstakingly careful, so thorough in drawing up the plans and in due time every ounce of his hard work will be recognized. "The infiltration of the Ministry plays a pivotal role in my—our success, thus each of you must ensure your positions are secured—”

"You're infatuated with that Hufflepuff."

A sharp intake of breath, and then silence befalls the room. All eyes flick to Avery; some with disbelief, some with poorly concealed excitement, but he pays them no mind.

"That's what's taking you so long, isn't it?” The boy hisses vehemently. “Ever since you met that poor excuse of a student, you've been putting off the purge. You’ve known about the Chamber’s whereabouts, haven’t you? Why is it that you haven’t acted by now?”

He pauses to feign contemplation, a slender finger tapping at his chin. “I’ll take a wild guess; it’s because that little mudblood is sufficient enough for you.”

And just like that the stillness is back, though this time it is an illusion; it can’t exist, not when the unmistakable buzz of fear and apprehension crackles in the air.

No one rushes to Avery’s defense, but Tom doesn’t need legilimency to know—he can see it clear as day—that it’s a unanimous agreement.

Red swirls in his vision.

An audacious Avery leans back in his seat as if accepting a major victory, boastful smirk intact. He lets his accusation sink in before he adds, like salt to injury, like an arrow piercing right through Tom's heart:

"You know what I think? I think you've gone soft."

Jaws drop and eyes widen, but Tom only smirks back, nauseating and sickly sweet.

He could torture him right now. He could turn his skin inside out and make him feel pain in all the worst places. He could reanimate the darkest stages of his trauma and dangle him by the ankles like a marionette until he begs for death's cold embrace.

And what’s stopping him? It’s nothing he hasn’t thought about before. Nothing he hasn’t come close to doing.

Would you be afraid of him if you found out?

Tom sputters.

Who are you to come up in his thoughts at a time like this? How dare you traipse over every line he’s ever created and exist there as if you’ve always belonged?

He suppresses his flaring, burning rage and tries, unsuccessfully, to even his breathing. No, it's hardly worth getting his hands bloody over. Besides, he'd rather not have to clean up the mess.

"Leave. All of you. Now." He manages to choke out.

It’s a scramble for the door.

Good. Fear is good.

His last follower has barely bolted before he’s pointing his wand at the long teakwood table and thundering out an Incendio. With each careless flick of his wrist, searing flames consume the conference space and it’s not until dark, ashy smoke obscures his vision that he takes his leave.

The door to the secret room clicks shut behind him, but the release has done little to assuage his fury.

He paces the length of the hallway outside.

The nerve. How could he suggest something so preposterous?

Everyone involved in his cause knows to never bite the hand that feeds them. And Avery has been feeding out of his palm ever since he took him in and gave purpose to his otherwise meaningless life.

Tom should tail him right now, really. Find him. Curse some sense into him. Who does that dull, privileged snob think he is? That daft, good for nothing—

But he's right.

Avery is right. Dead on, nail-on-the-head right.

He’s fallen for you; hook, line, and sinker.

︵‿��♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Tom isn't at the library the next afternoon.

You tell yourself he's busy, that he probably has a million duties to carry out and the world isn’t going to cave if he doesn’t show for one day—still, the little tug on your heart speaks for itself. Call it sentimental, but the study sessions have become something of a tradition.

And Tom’s usually a stickler for tradition.

“Looks like it's just you and me,” you tell the waiting pile of homework on the table.

You can practically hear his exasperated whisper in your ear. For Pete’s sake, stop conversing with inanimate objects as if they’ll miraculously bestow upon you the solutions or so help me. You grin.

It appears you’ve come to rely quite a bit on his forceful encouragement, because twenty minutes later your parchment is emptier than the porcelain flatware in the Great Hall after dessert, and only one thought reigns supreme on your mind.

“So much for productivity,” you mutter sullenly.

It hits you right then that Tom Riddle is taking up all your headspace.

When you had met him in this exact spot on that fateful night, you never would’ve guessed that he’d be so drawn to you. So adamant on getting to know you. You share no common ground with his other friends—egotistical, haughty, you’re-so-beneath-me blood purists who command the open-mindedness of jellyfish.

But despite what your confidantes claim, you truly think you’ve seen a side of him no one else has. Because when he’s with you, he sheds the rigid golden boy demeanor for something relaxed and content and dare you say it, warm.

Of course you had plummeted headfirst into your emotions. How could you not? Your affections for him have been growing by the day, and you doubt this is some silly old crush that’ll peter out with the last of summer.

No, the feeling extends way past friendship, you’re afraid.

You entertain the idea, play around with it and roll it over the edges of your brain, let it circle through before reluctantly storing it away for next time.

For the guilt, it’s always there; overbearing and unshakable and clawing at you. Surely it’s immoral to think of a good friend in such a way, especially when it seems good friends are all you’ll ever be—you’re no fool to neglect his detachment towards the whole topic of romance.

You groan. You’ll have time to dwell on it later, but for now there are more pressing matters to at hand. For starters, the conference with your D.A.D.A professor that starts in approximately…fifteen minutes.

You bid the librarian goodbye and wave to the old, regal portraits on your way down the long marble staircase, unceremoniously scouting for vanishing steps.

“Safe and sound,” you sigh when your feet reach hard ground.

Sunlight spills through arched windows into the ever-majestic halls, which are empty save for the occasional wandering student. With the early summer weather, everyone must be congregating outdoors again.

Tap tap tap!

Rushed footsteps and a sudden blur of motion at the end of the corridor bring an abrupt end to your solitude. You halt in your step, just managing to catch the barest glimpse of an outline before it rounds the corner in one swift turn.

Curiosity killed the cat.

A grin breaks over your face. But satisfaction brought it back.

And quick as a fox you’re trailing after the shadow, only a little ashamed that the promise of a distraction outweighs any sense of responsibility you might have. An instant later, a pair of spotless dress shoes accompanied by pristine, ironed robes come into view.

Why, you’d recognize that statuesque figure anywhere.

"Tom!" The prefect freezes mid-step, tension written in every line of his body as he reaches into his pocket and shuffles to his side ever so slightly and right ahead of him stands...

The girl's lavatory?

He swivels around as you approach, wand in hand. "Tom! There you are—"

Except he doesn't look very much like Tom.

There's something manic in his eyes, a ferocity in the way he peers down at you that sets your fight or flight instincts ablaze. His fingers curl restlessly at his sides and you have the horrible impression that you’ve just interrupted something very important.

Tom scowls, regarding you with a coldness so foreign, so unfamiliar you almost recoil under the scrutiny.

But everything your body tells you pales in comparison to the concern that overtakes you.

“Are you alright?” You place a tender hand on his arm, your initial excitement dimming at his state. “You seem ill. Should I escort you to the nurse?”

Tom stares at you, unblinking with those glacial eyes.

Ouch. You tear your gaze away and push down the fears that threaten to surface. There are a million different possibilities, but it'd do you no good to ruminate over any of them right now.

“Come on.” You tighten your grip and steer him toward the stairwell, mindful to take slow steps—you know it’s a fragile peace when eggshells are what you’re treading on.

Still, you’re thoroughly unprepared for the force that wrenches the arm out of your grasp.

The shock registers slowly. It’s a colossal punch to the gut, but all the same you try to keep the woundedness off your face.

“I am not in need of your assistance.”

His voice is low, devoid of its usual silkiness. Chills form a serpentine path up your arms and down your back, raising goosebumps all over your skin until you’re shivering.

Indignance claws its way past the alarm. “Is that why you didn’t show up?” You retort. “You’re normally awfully insistent on cramming as much studying as you can. Vital lucubration, or whatever you call it. I figured you might’ve needed to—”

Tom cuts you off with a scoff, all scorn and vitriol.

“That,” he enunciates slowly, “is none of your concern. I am not quite certain when such brazenness entered the picture, but it is not appreciated."

You blink owlishly before taking a much needed breath. “I don’t understand. Could you start from the beginning? I’m certain we can figure this out, it’s just the story is a little convoluted right now and—well, actually, I don’t even know what the story is.”

“This is a waste of time,” Tom chides. “I’ll make one thing clear: we are not friends.” The crazed stare has vanished, replaced by something eerily vacant. You’ve always wondered how he does that so quickly. “And I believe you’ve helped enough as it is, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll be seeing to my duties now.”

But he doesn’t leave, just crosses his arms and waits expectantly for you to turn away. To go.

You’ve helped enough as it is.

You have the sinking feeling that if you walk away now, you’ll be walking out of his life forever.

We are not friends.

Your pulse races. How can he say all those joy-filled hours you so often look back on amount to nothing? How can he brush you off like you’re just another speck of dirt on his clothes?

Maybe, when it all comes down to it, he’s no different from the rest of them.

“What part of your duties, pray tell, consists of going into the girl’s washroom?” You demand incredulously, voice shaking and mind reeling because Merlin there is no way this was all a ruse and you fell right into it like a blindsided, delusional moron in lo—

Tom stiffens, and you watch, mystified, as the mask of calm falls off. His nostrils flare in anger and he takes a step closer to you, only this time it doesn’t feel anything like the afternoon under the tree. Only this time it’s threatening.

“Fine. I’ll spare you, is that what you want?” He laughs mirthlessly, long fingers running through raven curls. “Since you’re so insistent on pretending to care for me? Fine. It won’t touch you. You have my word.”

Your vision blurs, though from the exasperation or tears you can’t be sure.

“Spare me what?” Your books drop to the floor with a resounding thud. “My concern for you has never been a pretense. That’s ludicrous! You’ll never begin to comprehend how much I care for you. As a matter of fact, I...”

You can’t say it.

His eyes are on you, curious and searching and scathing, but all you can do is helplessly stare back at him. You dig half crescents into your palms.

This time when he speaks, you’re prepared for the flames that come with it.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” Tom all but spits, and you’re wishing for the quiet to blanket you once again. He pauses, if only for a second, tone turning subdued. “The lightness in my chest, the nerves spiraling out of control, the…the…” He gestures wildly. “Floating feeling whenever you’re near.”

“I was satisfied with my perception of the world, so sure and unwavering in my decisions until you came along. You’ve turned all I’ve known upside down.”

Your blood freezes inside your veins.

Tom frowns at his hands. “I’m suffering the consequences, even when you’re not near. Every waking moment is you running through my thoughts and I am not dramatizing when I say it is driving. Me. Insane. I’ve had enough. This ends now.”

Your despair falters just enough for a sliver of hope to take hold. “It doesn't have to end.”

“It must.”

It pains you, it does, but you say it anyway.

“If that’s what you really want.”

The rigidity on Tom’s face lets up slightly, though you could’ve sworn you caught a flicker of something akin to regret.

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale. “Just...about what you said. I know feelings are daunting, but I promise whatever you’re experiencing is perfectly reasonable.” You think back to the memories you share, as if that’ll make saying the next part any easier. “In fact, Tom I think I—”

“Stop,” he whispers, dangerously calm, yet somehow you know the fury has returned tenfold.

Your heart plummets.

“Get out of my way.”

And is it bad that you sense the undercurrent of something dark in his words? His intentions?

It doesn’t feel of your own accord when you rush to block his way back.

Tom levels you with a death glare, and you have only a second to ponder over whether you should be six feet under before his eyes are flashing a horrifying crimson. You give ground for every stride he takes towards you until a thump indicates that you’ve backpedaled to the lavatory entrance.

You watch in dread as Tom turns his attention to the inside, yearning written all over his features and for one harrowing second, you think he’s going to hurt you to get there.

But then he’s stepping away, away, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

And for the first time, you think there's more merit to your friends' warnings than you gave credit for.

You slump onto the floor. You wish you were in any condition to make sense of what transpired, but all you know is that it feels like your spirit has been zapped away. The strain on your chest persists even as you push it down, and then you feel a crushing snap before it all comes undone—caged sobs wrangle free from your throat and salty tears rain down upon where your smile had held just moments ago.

Has it really only been a week since you and Tom had that conversation in the courtyard? Since you lent him that book?

You wish you could retrace your footsteps, find where it all went astray.

“Waaah!”

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Waaaaah!” The sound, high-pitched and lamenting, can only be coming from inside.

You rise to your feet.

“Hello?” You venture from the doorway. Your voice ricochets off the stone walls. The place is well-kept, complete with four shiny sinks situated below a mirror and a row of wooden stall doors left fairly unchipped.

“GO AWAY!”

You may or may not be one stone’s leap away from hysterics (who’s to say?), but you think you’ve had enough scares in a day for the whole of Hogwarts. Besides, no one should be howling like their life is ending, and smiles make the world go round.

“Would you like to talk?” You goad gently, taking note of the leather shoes peeking out from under the far stall. "You can say the word again and I’ll leave you be.”

You cross your fingers behind your back, pray with all your being that this one won’t end in a full-blown lash-out session.

To your relief, the wooden door swings open a few moments later and a pale girl with long brown pigtails, round glasses and a blue tie steps out to face you. No older than fourteen, from the looks of it.

“Olive Hornby made fun of my glasseeeees,” she wails, and the noise grates against your ear. You wince.

“I’m sorry.” You place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I, for one, am of the opinion that your glasses look just fine.” She flushes at that. “Although if this is a recurring thing, I’d like to talk to her for you—only if you assent, of course, but it’d give me peace of mind.”

Her puffy, bloodshot eyes light up and suddenly it’s as if she were five years younger, a hopeful child with stars in her eyes. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Really.”

Her sobs subside to sniffles and the pout on her face morphs into something bashful. “Thanks…”

“What’s your name?”

“Myrtle. Myrtle Warren.” She takes off her glasses and wipes at the fogged-over lenses with the fabric of her clothes.

“He comes in here often, you know.” She peeks at you from under her lashes. “Taps on surfaces and makes these strange hissing noises, like it’s a language he’s fluent in." Her tone turns wistful. "I stay silent and listen because it’s all so mesmerizing…”

“Who does?” You frown.

“You know who.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me...”

But Myrtle only giggles, brows lifting in amusement. “Good luck on your boy problems.”

Then she’s off.

You stare after her in shock.

You catalog the new information, an onslaught of burning questions and what-ifs invading your mind in a trice.

One sticks out in particular. It’s afflicting and unnerving and you don’t want to consider it, but it prods and pushes at you until you’re forced to cave.

What exactly would’ve happened if Tom had gone in there today?

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The note comes a week—dense with radio silence and carefully averted glances—later, tied by a silken ribbon (high-end, no doubt about it) to the leg of a beautiful owl with raven feathers.

Now it rests, protrusive and unbidden in your lap as the root of your apprehension for the past half hour.

You pick it up and set it down again. Fidgeting in your beanbag chair has only fueled your restlessness, but now that the adrenaline’s gone you’re really out of options.

And if you’re being completely honest, not knowing is killing you more than anything.

You slouch in resignation and raise the letter to your face.

“Helga help me,” you whisper to the portrait above the mantelpiece.

It reads something about how he’s been awfully occupied with responsibilities and how he’d like to have a chance to make up for lost time and would you be so inclined as to accompany him to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon.

There’s a palpable, gaping hole in the place where an apology or explanation should be—or an acknowledgement of anything that went down, for that matter. You don’t know what you were expecting.

A week ago, you would’ve been delighted at the prospect of going on a date with the Tom Riddle. Squealing in ecstasy and bouncing on the balls of your feet. Now all that’s running through your head is maybe the rose-colored glasses you see with have only made you blind in the end.

Crackling orange embers engulf the parchment with a satisfying hiss.

You’ve never been one to hold a grudge, but If he wants your forgiveness—he’ll have to try much harder than that.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

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bloodynereid · 2 months

Text

just rewatched lisa frankenstein and i thought i would write up some of my thoughts before they are lost into the void of my brain forever

i ADORE lisa's walk, it's just so... cool. idk i feel like i used to walk a lot like that as a kid, with this air of elegance and self importance but also not giving a single fuck about the people around you. now i walk like a normal person (how very boring), that needs to be remedied soon.

I AM SO SINGLE

time to start hanging around abandoned cemeteries and looking lost

the costuming is just so *chef's kiss*

i deeply connected with lisa's speech about boyfriends and their need to be the "cooler" one in the relationship. like i was talking to this guy once and he was genuinely SO SHOCKED that we shared a similar movie taste like dude so many people like those movies you are not special

might add some more things later but that is all that comes to mind atm <3

#maria talks #maria's random stuff #maria watches stuff #lisa frankenstein

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beefrobeefcal · 3 months

Note

Beefro, I'm on my period rn. Tell me why the only thing I can think about is having a beefy pedro boy to cuddle. One who would rub my lower tummy with big warm hands to help with the cramps, and his belly would press into my lower back and we could just watch rom coms and Star Wars movies. It's giving Frankie vibes, but I also can't stop thinking about retired agent Jack Daniels and that southern drawl.

Oh Redy! I’m too riding the crimson tide…

Who would be the best chubby!P-boy for this job?

Let's find out...

We're-all-in-this-together regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

Chubby!Frankie - 9/10

Of course, our resident military snugglepuss would be ready to take orders. Need supplies? Text him a picture of what tampon/pad combo you want. Don’t feel like cooking? He already knows he’s in for a few days of take out and he’s not complaining. Want comfort? Already has plans to cuddle on the couch and his big body is JUST RIGHT for warm snuggles. Frankie is ready to take on your period and has a strategy for every variable and Is the ideal candidate for the job.

Chubby!Dieter - 7/10

While he may lack in empathy, he has the drugs you need to quell your pain. Uppers, downers, side-to-siders - he's got the gambit and he'll partake what ever you choose. He's also got every take out restaurant on speed dial and a private chef. It's not for everyone and some of his remedies might be questionable, but his heart is in the right place... that and he's a human heating pad.

Chubby!Joel - 7/10

He's done this before - had multiple female partners, had the teenage daughter. Periods are just a part of life and Joel has seen his fair share of blood before (periods or not). Unphased, he's be your matter-of-fact pillar to lean on and offer advise (unsolicited and otherwise). While you love the support, the know-it-all attitude he carries might get on your nerves, but he's quick to apologize and remain supportive in any way he can... while also telling you what to do as he gives you one hell of a backrub.

Chubby!Peña - 6/10

Probably the most uncomfortable with any talk about your 'monthly', he would be supportive albeit a bit clueless. He'd probably get either Connie or one of the other girls in the office to pick up supplies and he'd nervously look at you like a beaten puppy as you sit doubled over on the couch in pain. He'd eventually find a system to help, but it would take a lot of guidance. Perk? You'd get to watch him stress eat over the whole situation.

Chubby!Dave - 3/10

100% out of his wheel house. This is a woman's issue and Dave is not a woman, therefore it's not his issue. Tell him what you need, but don't expect support beyond a pat on the head and a kiss. He might give you a good pain killer if he's feeling sympathetic. You're better to keep your period stuff to yourself, according to Dave. He does get a mark deducted for being terrible at sharing his snack hoard with you.

Dark!Frankie - 0/10

As much as he'd like to think he's great at everything, this is an area that requires empathy. Unfortunately for you, unless the solution to your monthly woes is fucking him or cooking for him, BigFish is out of ideas. He doesn't want to see you in pain though, and he'll tell you that... less to offer comfort and more like an order for you to get in line... The only way it could be worse is if you had to deal with PORP.

Honorable Mentions:

Benny Miller: We'd all be so lucky to have a Benny. We see how he is with Honey (when his good intentions come out wrong.) Chubby!Jack Daniels: Not yet part of the Bistro, but maybe soon? I think you're right, Redy - this old, fat cowboy would be heaven sent. Chubby!Javi G: If he was a Cannon P-Boy, he'd clock a 58/10 on the scale. Homeboy's love language is MADE for dealing withy your period.

#beefro headcannons #chubby!p-boys #you ask beefro answers #you asked beefro answered #thot tank #🥩#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy

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dilf-din · 11 months

Text

Sarah was doubled over in hysterics, a jarring pain in her side as she tried to even out her breathing. Joel had tears streaming down his face as he tried to fight for composure.

“Maybe we’re not cut out for this,” he gasped.

“DAD, STOP,” she choked out through a new wave of giggles.

Before them on the counter lay a mess of spoons and bowls amidst an explosion of flour. Above them on the ceiling hung the remnants of their first homemade pizza dough. Joel had decided he would try to spin it like you see in the movies, despite Sarah trying desperately to be the voice of reason.

“Dad, that’s for advanced chefs,” she had urged.

“I’ve been cooking for you for 13 years, that’s gotta make me advanced to some degree,” he had argued.

The two of them finally steadied their breathing and locked eyes with each other just as they heard the front door come unlocked. In walked Tommy, a brown bag in hand piled high with fresh toppings from the local market.

“You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, an eyebrow raised as he shuffled the bag onto the edge of the counter.

With comedic timing better than money could buy, the mess of dough detached from the ceiling and landed back on the counter with a wet thump, promptly sending the duo into hysterics again.

Tommy stood still, mouth agape with a horrified look on his face.

“Move,” he instructed firmly, pushing past them to roll up the sleeves to his denim shirt and wash his hands. “You don’t deserve this,” he said mockingly pulling the apron off of Joel’s head and securing it around his own waist.

Sarah wrung her hands, laughing so hard it came out as a snort. She and Joel crashed into each other and rested against the fridge giving Tommy ample room to fix the mess they had made.

Joel leaned his head into her curls and pressed a long kiss to the crown of her head.

“Sorry you don’t have a pizza chef for an old man,” he jested, poking her in the ribs.

She batted his hand away, “I don’t mind, life is more fun this way,” she smiled at him.

He smiled back, edges of his eyes starting to crinkle in a new way. She thoughtfully took in this first sign of aging. Unknown to her, Joel was thinking about how, last summer, he could tuck her whole body under his chin when he hugged her. She had shot up in the fall, her head almost level with his own now.

The two of them had grown up together, the three of them, really.

Joel’s gaze drifted to Tommy who was ranting about the mechanics of dough making to anyone who would listen. Sarah had returned to her spot at the counter and was thoughtfully taking in everything he said, eyes following his careful hands.

Joel smiled again, pivoting his body to switch on the radio, wiping the leftover flour onto his jeans before turning the knob. The sound of Avril Lavigne faded into the background, filling in the empty space.

Joel grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed to the other side of the island, hooking a barstool with his boot and perching atop it while Sarah and Tommy remedied the dough mishap, shaping it into three matching circles. He smiled and drew a long swig from the cold bottle. This week might’ve been hell, but Friday nights with his family carried him through the ups and downs easily.

#the last of us #the last of us fluff #the last of us drabble #tlou #sarah miller #joel miller #tommy miller #miller family

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Okay, but I am frothing at the mouth for a second part to the homelander and his cleaning maid tidbit because that one just *chefs kiss*

homelander doing everything in his power to get her to come to stay with him. Like if she’s in a relationship he stages stuff to get her out of it and when she’s alone with no where to go he’s like « oh just stay with me, we’re friends after all» all the while knowing he’s not going to let her leave when she’s back on her feet. I’ve thought of this extensively lol.

oh yes, this one here!! what a surprise hit it ended up being. i'm so glad you liked it!

you certainly HAVE been thinking of this!!! ahaha i do love Homelander being manipulative, pulling strings behind the scenes vs upfront 'i am kidnapping you forever' behaviors. i think it works especially well for this fic, since it comes across as quite innocent and sweet from the readers pov... but is definitely VERY calculated and a little sinister on Homelander's part, given the power imbalance.

i've also been thinking a lot about a follow-up to this one, and i think it's going to involve a rather traumatizing home invasion and some gore, because somehow i haven't written Homelander rescuing the reader yet??? so that MUST be remedied.

and he does so love being your hero.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #make this heart a home

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lurkingteapot · 4 months

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Last Twilight ภาพนายไม่เคยลืม Ep 6

another episode that's UP THERE. Goodness. The watch blog is even more incoherent than usual, consider yourselves warned.

Day is like deflect deflect deflect

god that hangover remedy looks TOXIC

oh fuck I didn't clock that August clocked the flower, ffff

aah I love On

I don't love August

afadsfas Mawk

posturing, oh nooo

how does a wrist wrap make anyone collapse? oh wait, he fell and hurt his wrist?

PIZZA

product placement, huh

oh god Mawk is SO jealous

ajaan On!!!

i see August did NOT get a glass of water

I love On

Mawk seeing a CHANCE huh

August like …

oh god this is STRESSFUL I love ittt

the touching-letting go- touching is. SOMETHING.

are you still talking about the shoes, Day?

this house is so cute

I love Phawjai so much

oh goodness, Mawk's FACE just now

Jimmy's really come far

oh man, are those his own? ohh he fixed them

calling it now the flower thing is gonna be merch too

that was a n extremely fake looking stumble right now, sorry not sorry, you've both done better

we're back to the unspecified time story time!

is August flirting or … what

Day definitely is

asfasdfasdf I love On

Mawk just openly pining in front of everyone's salad

is this the Rangsit U sports grounds again

yeah, looks like it

oh god I hate jealousy as a plot device but urgh

okay at least they did not make the banana eating weird

Mawkkkk don't bring down his hopes--

okay, that's more like it

what's UP here

I love these two together

I mean I especially love Phawjai

but they're so good as friends

you're making her point, dude

this is CUTE and I wonder what's gonna be the nail in the coffin for Day to choose Mawk over August

Hi Night, long time no see!

August is TRYING, huh

birthday coming up, huh

I want Chef Mon's hair

oh, are we getting Night backstory, huh

!!!! HE QUIT

he loves his little brother and it's hard for him that Day hates him, that's my read and I'm sticking to it

this seems like they filmed this early on, idk

leaving it to himmmm

I love that it's not that easy to answer and that they can just leave it at that

Day kicking his feet like a little kid!!!

Mawk FLIRTING

DAY FLIRTING BACK

I cannottttt

is he gonna ---------

no mention of the necklace, huh

OH he's putting his own cologne on him????

holy SHIT that's intimate idk also I need to find that scent

(P'Aof and scents is2g)

I LOVE that they're not being coy about the, whatever it is between them

AUGUST PLANNED THIS on one hand: this is so cute!!! on the other hand: YIKES SURPRISE PARTIES

so that's why August took Mawk to buy drinks

so we'll have, what, 1-2 more eps of AugustDay and then a crisis and then MawkDay? aaah

August and that condescending little shoulder slap, WOW

but I want that cake kinda

he's gonna bum a cig-- yep

also how tall is that dude to make Jimmy look short

the cig in the cake, oh man Mawk. I get that you're mad, but that's nasty

he's heartbrokennnn and I bet the social status thing plays into it too

I'm not sure I get what's going on rn--

I love how they show anxiety rising here, it's beautifully done

that's like a "putting your name on things to show they're yours' thing and it's not cute august

preview has me super afraid that we're going to get a kiss out of them next part

I love Gee

love the way they have Day made up here, he really looks like someone coming off a BAD moment or five

the bridgeeee

Mawk is like 'what was I thinking', huh

Day's already fallen for Mawk, he's just catching up to that reality now, huh?

oh August isn't bad at looking smitten, either

not on Mawk's level yet, but that's okay

(Ohm is doing really well for a junior actor)

oh????

CALLED IT

holy shit

oh wow what TIMING, of course

of course

poor Mawk, he's so unlucky with his sunflower timing every time

JimmySea fans everywhere throwing a shit

and Jimmy this is probably the weakest acting I've seen out of you so far

what the fuck why did you push him??? what the??????

was that a pity thing???

oh August, you fucker, the road to hell etc

did Day hear that???

asdfasdfasdfadsfasdfasdasdf adfadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasd oh DEAR

oh man Jimmy is MUCH better at being scary than at being kind

oh I unexpectedly love this??? y'know?

Mawk is Day's safe space atm, I love that.

what a terrible ending to a nice Birthday, huh

is this the early morning?? looks like it

ROOFTOP

kiss?????????

I feel like this is not the time?

that's … gonna backfire

tiny "mai" incoming?

no?

okay but Day is kissing back, huh?

Jimmy's eating

oh his voice went low there

but okay this is gonna get awkward I BET

OH we're going to get the "proving yourself / your love" arc in ep 7, huh. P'AOF!!!!

#last twilight the series #last twilight #ภาพนายไม่เคยลืม #last twilight ep 6 #bl watch liveblog #my nonsense

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gloryhrs · 1 year

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━━ ⟡ 𝓢𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝓓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝓘𝐍 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐊, byakuya k.

꒰ 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝!𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. → 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐛𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚 (if you squint) ꒱

“Please watch your step, dear.” Byakuya caught his blind husband and pulled him into his chest when the brown-skinned male almost fell down the mansion stairs from being too fast. Today was December 24th, which was special for you and Byakuya. It was the day he met you and the same day he decided to marry you. He thought you looked beautiful, from your milky white eyes to your old scars from the battles before. He still remembered the ugly looks in the faces of the elders when he made the announcement. They were upset about the fact that you were a blind man with darker skin. The number of insults he received from their lips boiled his blood. You were his husband, not there’s. How can they say that you weren't good enough? You were the perfect match for him.

“Sorry, you just. . .keep me so happy!” You leaned your back against his chest as he kept guiding you towards the room. Byakuya's eyes softened from your behavior, even after losing your eyesight, you were still the same optimistic man he had fallen in love with. “You make me happy as well, I love you.” He pressed lips against your cheek and another one on your temple. He liked the way you gave him butterflies, the feeling of warmth in his chest was truly a delightful feeling. “We’re here.” He announced as your smile grew wider. The smell of your favourite meal blended with your favorite flowers led you to wrap your arms around your husband's neck. “Happy Anniversary, my love.” He kissed both scars under your eyes before kissing your lips with passion. The tears gathering up your eyes made him wipe them away and kissed under your eyes once more.

“Happy Anniversary.” You held his hands while they continued to wipe the tears from your face. Ever since you first met him, he's been so sweet and patient with you. The night the doctor told you it wasn't a remedy for your blindness was the same night your heart broke. That night you cried to the point of no return, with Byakuya holding you against his chest. Your heartbroken sobs made him tighten his grip each time, he didn’t care if you soaked his nightwear with snot and tears. Byakuya nearly cried with you, he just wanted you to be happy and know you weren't alone. He even felt his heart break in half when you said you were completely unless and were no longer fit to be his husband. He couldn't stand seeing you so broken, and from that moment on, he swore he would never let you be sad again.

“Come, before the food gets cold.” He took your hand and started walking towards the Kotatsu. The delicious smell of food did your mouth water non-stop. “Ah! It smells amazing darling!” Your husband passed you the chopsticks and placed the bowl directly in front of you so you wouldn’t have to struggle on searching for the object. “It took me a long time, but I've finally mastered the recipe, I hope you enjoy it.” He looked as you placed the chopstick in your mouth with your eyes slightly shining afterwards. The way the flavours melted onto your tongue nearly put you in a food coma. “This is incredible, Byakuya! You are the best chef.” You ate with him chuckling at your loveable demeanor. He refused to allow someone else to cook for you, he was the only one to cook for you. The elders didn't like you, so he didn't trust them to look after your meals when he wasn't there. Which explains why he made a lifetime supply of your favourite dishes for when he's busy with his captain duties.

He didn't know why, but he loved it when you depended solely on him and nobody else. He would do anything for you if he were able. He adored the fact that nobody was capable of coming into your life and taking his place. The idea of someone withstanding him by getting close to you wished nothing but a mere death wish. Since you lost your sight, he has become extremely protective over you, he trusted no one but Rukia or Renji to be close to you. He often had nightmares about losing you permanently because he wasn't there with you or wasn't strong enough to defend you. He couldn’t lose you, not after everything you both been through.

“Thank you for the food darling!” You shook your hands together and crawled to your husband who still hasn't touched his food, as he was too busy being consumed by his thoughts. “You’re welcome, my dove. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He placed the bowl down and pulled you into his lap, with his head nuzzling against your neck. The cozy silence caused you to hum a soft tune as Byakuya rocked back and forth, the familiar melody making him hum along with you. “Byakuya, do we still have that record player?” Your fingers played with his hands as he nodded in agreement. Byakuya doesn’t remember the last time he used it, considering the fact you both didn’t have the time use it anymore.

“Can you play our favourite song? Please?” You poked your lips out to the black haired male who chuckled before moving you off his lap to recover the player. After retrieving the item, he looked into the box for the familiar cover until he grabbed it from the corner of his eye. “There it is.” He removed the cover of the vinyl and blew the dust off. Once he put the vinyl into the player the music started playing softly, the familiar sound made him smile gently. It was the same record you played when you two announced you were now husbands. He couldn’t forget the way you danced with his hands intertwined with yours while cracking up like a small child who discovered happiness for the first time.

“Byakuya! Or should I say, my dear hubby! Let’s dance!” You pulled on the hand of the Kuchiki. Deciding he couldn't tell you no, Byakuya took your hand with his and put the other one on your waist. As he swayed your body, the moonlight started to shine on your face, revealing the multiple marks of beauty he loved so much. Byakuya felt nothing but joy when you were with him, after the death of his wife, he was afraid that he would never discover love again. But you showed up, made him fall in love again. He was so concerned he couldn't find the right woman when he didn't need a wife. “You look great this evening.” He murmured into your ear before he kissed your cheek.

“Thank you for this dance, Byakuya. But I don't think I remember it well.” You grinned when he put his hand on your waist and the other in your other hand. “It's okay, take it slow and follow my hands.” He pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. After stumbling a few times you finally got ahold of the beat, “I finally got it!” You took your hand from him and wrapped it around his neck. No matter how often this happened, Byakuya could not explain the blooming sensation in his chest even if he tried. The classical music playing in the background and how the moonlight shone over your soft eyes made you look like an angel.

“I love you so much, I'm so glad you're my husband.” He kissed your forehead once more. He had no idea how blessed he became to have somebody like you in the world. You were the light that shined through his darkness, you were the sun and he was the moon. “Hm, I love you as well. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” You pecked his lips, the day you went blind was the day Byakuya left everything behind and helped you get back on your feet. He helped you heighten your other senses and got you out of your depressive state. Without him, you would’ve been miserable or dead.

Byakuya didn’t say anything after that, instead, he continued to hold you in his arms while you both slowly danced in the dark.

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬. – 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰.

The sound of your angelic whining was the only thing Byakuya could hear when he placed sweet open-mouthed kisses on your neck, with his groin rubbing against yours. The burning sensation in your cheeks and the swelling in your throat prevented you from breathing correctly. “B–Byakuya.” You ran your hands through his silky black hair. The intense pleasure that ran through your body made your head go completely hazy. “Please, let me pleasure you, my dove.” His breath fanned against your lips. He had no recollection of the last time you had sex, but the thought of hearing those heavenly noises from your lips aroused him. He didn't remember the last time he heard the noises, which is why he was so eager to have make love to you.

The man with black hair fondled your cheek before putting his lips on yours, with his tongue pushing them with ease. The light taste of mint was the first thing he could taste as the hot muscle ran through your mouth. While keeping you distracted his hand made its way past your nightwear and into your underwear. The cold hand on your member snapped you out of your thoughts. “Shh, don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” He cooed in your ear at when you tried to push his hand away from your private area. All night long, you only felt pleasure after spending your anniversary with your husband.

#(ㅅ´ ˘ `) @gloryhrs . . . !#anime #manga #animanga #bleach #bleach tybw #bleach x male reader #black male reader #male reader #black reader #bleach imagines #bleach x reader #bleach oneshot #byakuya kuchiki #byakuya x y/n #kuchiki byakuya imagine #byakuya x you #bleach byakuya #byakuya x reader

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