Tumgik
#more a drabble tho
hajimeseyo · 3 months
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You're staring, Izana notices. 
He has no idea who you are, really, but you've been trying (and obviously failing) to sneak subtle glances at him the entire time since he stepped into the convenience store. It's starting to throw him off, just a little. For all he knows, you could be a spy from an opposing gang. Not a very good one, though. 
Your gaze follows him as he walks towards the cashier and pays, and even as he walks towards the exit, plastic bags in hand. He pays it no mind as he feels it shift off him, the sound of the cashier greeting you the last thing he hears as he steps outside the store. 
It didn't seem like you were going to pick a fight with him, he might as well just leave it be. 
Besides, any gang that dared to come after Tenjiku would just be mercilessly crushed under his heel. A spy or two wouldn't change that fact.
The clouds above him rumble, dark and heavy, and he frowns, looking up at the cloudy sky. It would be a pain in the ass if it rained while he was in the middle of walking home. Maybe he could call Kakucho to pick him up. Or he could just buy an umbrella from the store right behind him…
The sound of footsteps snap him out of his thoughts, and he glances to the side to see you, head lowered and lips mouthing numbers as you take inventory of the things in your plastic bag. You don't seem to have noticed him, he notes in amusement.
His theory proves true when you look up, done from counting, and nearly jump at the sight of him staring straight at you. Your eyes are wide, the way you freeze reminding him of a prey caught by its hunter, and he can't stop himself from having a little fun. 
“You were staring at me quite a lot earlier, huh?” He says, relishing in the way your face flushes with embarrassment, and the way you instantly try (and fail) to school it into a look of nonchalance. “Is there a problem?”
You cough awkwardly, eyes suddenly unable to look at him despite being fully glued onto him just minutes ago. Izana watches you squirm, all too used to these shows of discomfort. Based on most of his past interactions, you'll probably come up with some lame excuse on why you were staring at him, then take the first opportunity you have to run away. Or get defensive, and aggressively deny you were doing anything of the sort. People always act the same when confronted with their actions. Izana's used to the same old song and dance. 
He wonders which route you’ll take.
To his surprise, you take neither of them. 
You seem to come to a decision, gaze snapping up to him, nervous but suddenly full of what seems like determination.
“There's no problem, I was just staring because–” You falter a little here, cheeks reddening a little again, before you pull yourself together with a quick shake of the head. “Because, well…your eyes.”
“Hm?” That response certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “What about them?”
“They're beautiful.”
The words are said so plainly, without a trace of any doubt, and Izana is shocked speechless. 
While he doesn't deny that he's good looking, the word ‘beautiful’ and any part of him have never been together in the same sentence before. That he's heard of, at least. Even if any of his subordinates had the guts to consider him ‘beautiful’, they definitely wouldn’t have the guts to say it to his face. Granted, you probably don’t have any idea who he is, but still. This is definitely a first.
(And even so, the thought that something about him could be beautiful was something that had never occurred to him.)
“...Really?” The words come out in a whisper before he could stop himself.
You nod vigorously, and once again Izana is thrown off by the fact that it's something you're so sure of. As if the thought of it being untrue has never even crossed your mind.
His response seems to appear to you as an invitation to talk more, as you continue speaking, hesitation fading away with each word that comes out of your mouth. “They're just such a beautiful shade of purple, like amethysts. I've never seen anything like it before. And paired with your long white eyelashes and white hair, you look like someone's painting came to life.”
"I don't know if anyone's told you before, but you're really a sight to behold."
There's a light, pleasant feeling in his chest.
He doesn't know what it is. 
“Ah!” You suddenly slap your hands over your mouth. “I spoke too much! God, I must've sounded like a creep, I'm so sorry–”
A laugh cuts you off from your panicked rambling. Izana doesn't quite know why he's laughing, but seeing you panicking over saying the wrong things despite being fully shameless literally right before just seemed so funny, and well, there's such a nice warmth in his chest; indulging in it doesn't hurt, right?
(He doesn’t notice the stars in your eyes as you stare, almost in awe, at his laughing visage.)
“What’s your name?” You’re interesting, he’s decided. It would be a shame to let you just slip away.
“[name].”
He lets out a hum. “[name], huh…got it.” 
“Wait.” You call out to him, just as he turns and begins to walk away. “What’s yours?”
He doesn’t notice, but as he turns back, there’s a genuine, serene smile on his face that would’ve shocked even the noisiest Haitani twins into silence at seeing it on the face of the highly feared leader of Tenjiku.
“Izana. Don’t forget it.”
(He’s scolded nonstop by Kakucho when he shows up at home, soaking wet from the heavy downpour outside.
“It’s not like you to be so careless.” Kakucho huffs, drying his hair roughly with all the fierceness of an Asian mom. “You knew it was going to start raining on your way back, why didn’t you just call for one of us to get you from the store?”
Izana hums unconcernedly. “I was already walking away from the store, I couldn’t just stop and turn back.”
“Huh?? Why the hell not??”
“Don’t be stupid, Kakucho. I would’ve looked so uncool.”
“??????”)
(part 2 here!)
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cupcakeinat0r · 2 months
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*Both silently working in the lab*
Miguel: I like you’re suit by the way.
Me: Then take it off.
Miguel: What?
Me: I said thank you.
Miguel: That’s not what you said-
Me: Yea it was, keep working.
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cashmoneyyysstuff · 5 months
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lowkey..just lowkey.. thinkin about waking up one day and seeing dragon! bakugou in your house…accompanied by a giant hole in your wall.
you’re so confused you can barely process it. there’s a handsome man passed out on your floor and from what you can see (which is basically everything since his shirt is torn to shreds) he looks injured. you also live on the third floor so you have no idea how he landed here, but you think the huge sprawled out wings on his back, his tail and those huge reddish horns that scream “ i’m a mythical being !!” might be the reason.
but there is one thing you’re able to think about and that’s how much money will it cost to fix your damn wall??
you call off work. you call it a family emergency because you don’t think “a shirtless man i think might be a demon just blasted through my wall and he looks injured” is gonna fly over well with your boss.
he seems to be able to heal himself because his wounds look better than when you first laid eyes on him and you can see that his skin looks like it’s restitching itself almost, you decide to help him out a bit and at least dress his wounds up the best you can with the little you know about doctor..stuff.
when he comes to though, he acts like you’re the one who knocked him out. he’s snarling and scowling at you, sharp teeth on display while he growls at you from the comfort of your fucking couch. he spits out all types of curses at you, you’re shocked because they come out so naturally. you’d honestly expected him to speak like some type of caveman and for a second you think this is just a very rude man in very convincing cosplay.
he keeps insulting you and he’s a little too good at it, so much so that it actually hurts your feelings a little. he keeps yapping about how if you didn’t let him out this instant he’ll have you grilled and barbecued or how he’d make quick work of you and have you sold to some merchants for a good amount of gold, since you “look like you’re not worth that much.” you’re a little pissed now. you scowl at him and you feel silly for calling off work and not pushing this huge asshole out of your flat and leaving whatever knocked him out to deal with him.
“you’re the one who blasted a hole in my wall, you jerk ! i say i’m the one who should have you sold if you can’t reimburse me for this, asshole ! and if you wanna walk out without a shirt on and get arrested like a creep, the door’s right there.” you don’t care to see him, because you would’ve seen how his eyes widened to the size of saucers at your retorts. you’ve never been more irritated in your entire life when you stalk to your room to get some much needed rest and to fight off the headache you can already feel slamming against your skull. “even demon men are insufferable.” you mutter bitterly before slamming the door.
you somehow managed to fall back asleep because when you open your eyes again it’s about 10 am. you’re frantic for a moment because you think this was somehow just a very vivid dream and you’re so late for work now. you slam your door open wide eyed and your wall is intact.
shit, your boss was gonna let you have it—
you catch something from the corner of your eye. the insufferable demon man is staring..glaring(?) at you but it’s not as intense as earlier,though. and he’s very much still seated on your couch.
“m-my wall..” you trail off. he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at you “i fixed it” he gruffs out.
you like how his voice sounds when he isn’t screaming and threatening you, you immediately scold yourself for thinking like that. he stares and keeps staring at you and you can’t decipher what he’s thinking
“oh..” you gasp “thank you.” he clicks his tongue again and looks away from you. just as much of an ass, but you guessed he felt a little bad about your wall, enough to fix it..somehow. you won’t ask for details.
you can’t will yourself to move past your doorframe so you decide to lean on it a little bit, rubbing your fuzzy socked foot against your calf, you catch him staring at the sudden movement before he looks back up at you. “so are you…a demon or something?” he scoffs for what feels like the umpteenth time today “don’t insult me, human.” he snarls then his face relaxes just slightly “m’ a dragon.” he grumbles.
“oh, wow” the little amount of fantasy manga you’ve read could never have prepared you for this.
you thank him for fixing your wall and he glares at you like he’s mad about it. but then he says he owes it to you for healing him. pointing towards his bandage covered chest. you feel your cheeks burn a little and you’re waving him off, telling him it’s no big deal and somehow his brows furrow even harder. “..so ? what do you want from me?” he growls when you tilt your head at him in confusion “don’t play dumb with me, filthy human ! what do you want in exchange for saving me ?”
“ohh…” you moan. then you shrug “i mean, you already fixed my wall, so i don’t really need anything from you, unless you can make my boss give me a promotion.” you giggle at your own joke and you wave him off again when he looks at you questioningly “nevermind.” you giggle.
he ignores you “you don’t want anything..nothing ?” he speaks apprehensively like he expects you to trick him, you shake your head. he looks bothered by it. he lowers his head and his eyebrows furrow in frustration then he growls.
you think maybe, maybe, he’s the type to feel bad whenever they feel like they can’t repay some type of service. you hadn’t noticed he was apparently on death’s door when you bandaged him up before and it makes you sweat drop a little bit, you try your best to shake it off. he stands up to leave, but he glances at you and suddenly his feet have stopped moving like he’s stuck there and he stares. he doesn’t even look mad like you’ve gotten used to him being for the short amount of time you’ve known him, he just looks confused. he stares at you and you stare at him and for a reason that you cannot understand you don’t want him to leave.
“ um !” you shrink into yourself, embarrassed from his gaze and the fact you were suddenly so loud. “well..you can’t exactly go out like this, it’ll be bad for you i think..it might attract attention to see a wounded shirtless guy walking around, people might take you for..i dunno—” you stumble “a crazy, dangerous person ! yeah, and if that happens they might take you away..so..that’d be bad for you, right ?” you hope he doesn’t realize how much you’re bullshitting around for an excuse but he almost seems to humor you when he crosses his arms across his toned chest.
“what do you suggest i do then, human ?” he growls lowly. he stalks towards you slowly, never breaking eye contact. you will yourself to stay with your feet planted firmly to the ground and head held up somewhat high as you stare up at him, damn he’s tall.
“ you stay here until you’re fully healed, if you wanna make it up to me. it would honestly save me so much trouble” it’s the truth. you can’t help but feel bad when the thought of him getting captured or experimented on crosses your mind, even if he is an asshole, but you don’t say that. you hold out your hand for him to shake “deal ?”
he squints at you and stares and you stare back. usually he would’ve stayed true to his threat and burned you alive by now, the trivial lives of humans are none of his concern. and yet for some reason he himself doesn’t know the answer to he stayed, even fixed up your damn wall you were whining about and even considered apologizing to you..which he absolutely never does !
there’s something different about you and he wants to find out what that something is. so, not so begrudgingly he slowly grasps your hand and squeezes lightly. he ignores the tiny voice in his head that tells him how soft and perfect your hand feels in his.
“deal.”
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dear sweet m if you end up writing about bucky with a vibrating arm can i pretty please be tagged?? (i don’t know if you do taglists, i couldn’t find anything that indicated either way, totally fine if not!)
Ah yes, Bucky and his vibrating arm. I’ve been hinting at it for ages. And you’d be surprised to find out…
There is no reason for the Wakandans to give the arm some extra functions. So any other vibrations than the mild ones from the inside mechanics were unnecessary. But as we’ve seen from Bucky ever since the 1940’s, he’s quite fascinated by technology himself. Also quite skilled with that brain of his. And as mentioned a while ago, this man has the sexual curiosity of a teenage boy – especially after everything that has happened to him.
So it took him some time to perfect using tools with just one hand, but he has managed to add in some extra functions to his arm. Peeling away at the vibranium carefully and programming some new things into the limb. Some things functioning as an element of surprise in battle, yes, but some functioning as an element of surprise in bed.
The first time he tried it on himself, he had taken a few deep breaths before activating it, squeezing his cock in his metal fist and supressing a low grunt. He had already been so close and had been edging himself for a while. He’d been throbbing and the artificial nerves in his metal arm could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat pulsing through his cock. How had he gotten so nervous doing this all of a sudden? It was a lot, but God, he’d needed to come! It had been unbearable, the need for release. Almost as unbearable as the thought of finishing it the way he normally would.
So he had turned on the added function, the vibrations rising carefully to a steady buzz the way he had programmed it, and the noise that sprang from his mouth had been borderline pornographic.
And he couldn’t stop. Moaning and whimpering as his palm vibrated against the hilt of his cock, he had barely managed to squeeze and pull his hand up to the aching tip of himself. Definitely hadn’t managed more than two pulls before he had spilled months of pent up frustration onto his toned chest with a helpless cry as the vibrations dimmed and he pulled himself through his vision-blackening orgasm.
And as much as he loved using the hidden feature, he hadn’t yet used it on a bed partner. It felt too intimate, too controlling for some reason. Until you, of course.
Because yes, Bucky has a kink for corruption and even though he knows there’s little left of you to corrupt, the small nudges out of your comfort zone felt like drugs to him. The man loves to be on his knees for you, worship the ground you walk on, but there are few things better than getting you to submit to him. Even fewer than ruining the sheets below you while he is still dressed.
And tonight, you looked beautiful. Sinful in the classiest way. He’d suffered through wearing a tuxedo to the party, as long as you felt confident next to him. And in turn, he felt powerful next to you. It was one of those moments where Bucky’s heart swelled three sizes because he realised that you both make each other want to be better. In the big things, but also the small things like tonight. Looking good, charming people, bragging about each other and hyping up one another. He was in cloud nine and it was about time he paid you back for it.
You are already breathing heavily, draped on your shared bed with your dress discarded and your heels still on. Your hair messy and makeup smudged slightly. Your skin is throbbing and flushed and the ache between your legs is nearly numbing. You stare up at the ceiling lazily, coming down from another Bucky-induced high as he prowls around the bed and watches you – jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.
“I’ll never get enough of making you come, you know,” he says before he once again climbs over you. Kisses are pressed to your belly, your breasts, your neck. You almost purr at the feeling. “And I will always look for new ways to get it done. New ways to make you feel better.”
You want to tell him you already feel great, fight him on it, tell him there is nothing he needs to compensate for. But you’re so dazed and selfishly, you love it when he talks to you like this. It makes goosebumps prickle over your skin. And Bucky laughs softly at the sight, teasingly trailing fingers up your damp inner thighs. You shudder at the touch.
He continues, “But tonight… Shit. You looked so beautiful. So tempting. I want to use all of my ways on you. I want to make you come and moan and scream until you are nothing but a puddle of sweat and tears and come.” You whine softly at his words and drape your hands over his neck, urging him closer. He breathes onto your lips, “I want it all from you. Forever. Give me everything, baby. I know you can–”
The surge of vibrations against you cunt is so much, you gasp for air and freeze all the same. You try to snap your legs shut, but Bucky’s body is keeping you from it. You open your mouth to say something, but everything has left you. Thoughts, words, willpower – it’s all gone. Your body tightens and loosens, pleasure unfurling throughout it like light in a glowstick.
Involuntarily, your hips buck and grind against his hand and the sounds that escape you are torturous. You feel Bucky’s smirk burning over your skin and you only barely manage to look down.
You’ve used toys before, but these vibrations… It feels like the toy is made for you, rolling over every single nerve of your clit so precisely it feels out of this world.
And as you look down, Bucky’s gaze follows, and you see three of his metal fingers rolling over your clit. You let out a moan at the sight – a sound Bucky answers with a deep groan of his own. Nothing will boost his confidence more than your responses to him. Especially when he knows there is no room left in your brain to overthink the responses. These are purely natural. Needy and appreciative.
The two of you look at his hand in trance, breaths and moans fanning over Bucky’s cheek. And then he slips two fingers into your soaked core, curling them up against your swollen walls and the both of you let out a carnal groan, your hands clutching him tighter.
Oh shit, oh shit…
“B-Bucky,” you gasp and he presses a kiss to your temple in answer. You sigh and close your eyes, sinking into the sheets as he pushes and pushes against the growing bubble in your belly. Rolling a vibrating thumb over your clit and pushing vibrating fingers against your deepest spot.
“Give it to me,” he murmurs, but he sounds rushed. Impatient. Like there is nothing in the world he wants more than to have you fall apart for him. Nothing more than feeling you squeeze around him again. He watches it build. Something big, something neither of you can come back from. He watches you nearly vibrate yourself with pleasure as the pleasure builds, and builds, and builds–
And when you burst, Bucky watches you lose yourself entirely to him. More importantly, only three fingers from him. And he wonders how you would look and sound if you lost yourself to him entirely. In love, in pleasure, in need, in life–  
Aaaand he wonders if he could do this in public.
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popponn · 5 months
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a seat beside you. [isagi yoichi x reader]
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notes: reader's gender unspecified, however mentioned to wear make up to cover up eyebags.
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Isagi Yoichi doesn't really pay attention to many things that are not soccer. But, it was hard not to notice things about his seatmate. The one who was seated a few centimeters away from him every day—
You, the star student everyone relies on.
He knew that this was a way for his teachers to scold him to pay more attention to the class. Because if not so, then there was no reason to purposely put him—a student who is mediocre at most and forgetting assignments at worst—next to a perfect record of equally perfect scores like you. But, it wasn't as if it was a bad thing.
You helped Yoichi a lot by pointing at his textbook to where the teacher was explaining whenever he blanked out, explaining some parts on breaks when he asked, and even at some point you started to teasingly remind him about the homework through text.
All in all, you were very pleasant to have.
But, it truly was hard to not notice some things about you too as time went on.
Sometimes, your shoulder sagged and you had a faraway look on your face. At other times, your laugh comes out just a bit too stilted than usual. And just recently, the eyebags you hid under a tiddly applied makeup started to show up even more often.
At some point, to him, it became so easy to tell whenever you push yourself too much.
Yoichi was not quite sure he was close enough to ask you about things like this. He is just some classmate who happened to have his seat beside you and your number saved in his phone. He was also definitely not the best at reaching out to people effortlessly without any hint of awkwardness. Yoichi's anxious heart urged him to just stay silent—and it would not be wrong. He was simply not crossing the line of 'classmates' between the two of you.
But, it also felt wrong to do that.
You are a kind person. Yoichi didn't know many things about you, but you are indeed someone who helped him even when you didn't have to. You are also the only one who cared enough to ask him about his practice and how he was doing in class—it felt wrong to just ignore everything and watch you keep up the act in silence for whatever reason you might had.
That was why, during that Friday, Yoichi braved himself to ask you, his tone shushed, even as the class started to grow emptier.
"Hey, listen, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... are you okay? You look tired recently, so..."
And when he got a tired smile and a nervous laugh from you, let out through sagged shoulders and a long sigh with a hint of relief mixed in it, Yoichi felt so glad he chose to.
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notes: isagi is an observant person, and there are some people who keep up the "mask" more than anyone else. but don't you think when you are in close proximity with someone every day, you can't really help but notice things about them? isagi is very soccer-headed, but he is kind and not an ungrateful person i think. this thing is a bit more mellow than my usual ones since the main feeling here is "ah, someone who keeps up a mask a lot of time contrasts isagi a lot. but if you think about it, isn't someone like isagi a good match for someone like that too in some degree?". also at the time when i wrote this, my feelings were a bit heavy, but in the end, i still enjoy writing even under such a feeling. I hope to come back to this idea again one day. in the tone of 'developing romance' and such, especially with isagi who seems to understand how it was to accommodate other people. i will think more about this premise again someday, it seems fun to explore more. all in all, think of it as another "more of a prologue meet cute" thing.
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johnslittlespoon · 4 days
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curtbuckbucky nightclub au .* :☆゚. ☽
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open for drabble/more pics! <3
alright, i've never done a proper 'intro' post for a fic/au i have in mind, but this one has been rotting in my brain for ages and i know there's no way i'm not gonna write something for it eventually so here goes, bear with me <3 made a lil edit (took me fucking hours to collect enough stock footage lmfao) to go along with it too >:)
a modern au where college student curt is a regular at a new–ish queer nightclub, showing up every friday night without fail to dance his heart out, his way of de–stressing at the end of every week and getting his pent up energy out. he's the prettiest little thing, dresses up so fun– some nights he throws on dresses or crop tops with skirts or short shorts when he's feeling it, other nights he goes for more of a relaxed baggy pants and flowy linen button up type of vibe– always with the same pair of scuffed up sneakers on for ease of dancing.
the bartenders and other regulars adore their bubbly little club bunny, always looking out for him, doting on him with free drinks and food. and even if some of them eye curt like he's dinner when he's out on the floor swaying his hips, eyes closed to fully lose himself in the music, the glitter on his eyelids and cheekbones catching the lights just right, curt's not there for any of that. he dances with people occasionally, he's confident and carefree and likes the attention and it makes him giggle when he catches newcomers staring, doesn't mind a wandering hand here and there, but he never goes home with anyone. the same routine, every friday, dancing until his dark waves are curling damp with sweat against his temples and his black eyeshadow is smudged and he leaves to make the walk back to the flat he shares with a few roomies.
enter john and gale, longterm boyfriends who sometimes like to go out clubbing and find someone pretty to bring home for a fun time, only an open relationship in that sense– they have no interest in actually dating other people, both adamant that it's no strings attached, too head over heels for each other to have eyes for anyone else anyway.
they decide to check out a club they haven't been to yet, usually sticking to the tried and true ones, but a couple of their friends recommend it, so they give it a go one friday night. they've barely sat down at the bar with their drinks when they see a boy who, john comments to gale, looks like the 'energizer bunny' (gets a snort out of curt when he tells him so in the future.) even once they're buzzed enough to head out onto the dance floor together, neither of them can take their eyes off of the bundle of energy, mesmerized.
they both know the other is equally enamoured with the boy, drinking up all the glitter and bouncy curls and blissed out smiles, already knowing they just have to have him– the prettiest thing they've ever seen. curt's confused when they approach him, because he's noticed them too, has been admiring from afar, but he's also noticed their hands and lips all over each other, dancing much too close and comfortably to not be a couple. but john purrs out "we just like to have a little fun every now and then sweetheart, don't you?"
and no, not really, he doesn't. usually a night of exhausting himself dancing is his idea of fun, not ever looking for anything else, not finding most guys worth his time. but john and gale sweet talk him just right, spend time actually getting to know him when he agrees to let them buy him a drink at the bar, and fuck, they're both the hottest things he's seen walk into the club in a long time, and they're giving him all their attention? he decides that maybe he'll be brave and flirt back. despite his confidence and lack of caring what other people think about him, he's so shy and easily flustered when someone he's actually into makes the moves on him, doesn't even know what to do with himself when he realizes he's blushing at their compliments and the combination of their heavy gazes on him.
obviously they all get each other worked up as the night goes on, and curt goes home with them and gets his world rocked, spoiled and pillow princess–ed and showered in praise, not at all what he expects hook–ups to be like after having only been with people he's been dating. he expects to walk back home after since they all live in the same vicinity of downtown, tries to ignore his wobbly legs when he finally crawls out of bed, gets dragged back down by gale for one last messy breathless makeout while john gets him an uber before curt can protest or offer to pay.
normally john and gale don't get the numbers of their one night stands, but they want to make sure he gets home safe, and they can both gauge how the other is feeling and they know they'll want to see him again if they're lucky enough for curt to say yes, so john puts his number into curt's phone and tells him "text when you're home safe, yeah? or, y'know, text whenever you want." and curt isn't sure if this is john saying they both want to see him again, because he's dense and shy and they made it clear beforehand that they're in a closed relationship, but next friday he texts to let them know he'll be at the club again, and john and gale tell him they'll be there, the three of them going home together for a second time that night, and they fall into a routine from then on.
curt gets giddy every friday, dolling himself up extra pretty for the two men, flushed at their attention every time and so thrilled to dress up for someone other than himself for once. he can already feel himself going all heart–eyes for them after the second or third time they hook up, but he knows where he stands, and he's having fun experimenting for the first time and having two experienced, sweet guys show him a good time every week, so he doesn't want to jeopardize that by getting his feelings involved.
little does he know that john and gale are falling head over heels too for this sweet energetic boy, loving how much he spices up their lives, both in the bedroom and out, realizing their flat feels so quiet now on the nights where they don't take curt home with them. so that leads to some serious conversations to see if they're on the same page about getting to know curt better, both of them learning how to navigate this new territory because neither of them expected to want to bring someone else into their world like this. they agree they'd like to take curt out on a cute date, during the daytime for once, to properly test the waters and see how curt feels– of course he slots into their lives perfectly, as if he's been there all along. <3
but along the way: lots of slow burn, miscommunication, endless filthy smut, curt trying to balance college and work and friends with his newfound feelings for john and gale, john and gale getting dragged to raves and festivals by their always adventurous bf, city night–life juxtaposed by early morning domesticity, etc etc.
this has been floating around in my head for a couple weeks since i got this vision of 2012–stalker–era barry with eyeshadow and glitter stuck in my brain and thus a whole universe/plot spawned from it. honestly would mostly be pwp, but would love to write a proper fic for it anyway eventually, each chapter littered with filth, obviously LOL. i have so many thoughts and so many little scenarios planned out in my head already... these three have me in a chokehold.
i need to make proper intro/drabble posts like these for my other aus too aghhh it just takes so longggg because i get carried away with the drabble and then i have to find the perfect clips for edits and the perfect pics to tie it all together and suddenly i've spent half a day on one post but. someday <3 leaving!bikeriders au next surely! thx for reading hope u enjoy this version of the boys and hopefully i'll have time to write it soon!
all posts about this au will be under #curtbuckbucky nightclub au :-)
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junicult · 10 months
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Farmer taking off their glasses: You're cute even when you're blurry...
Harvey, also taking off his glasses: And you're the prettiest, blurriest person I've seen
LMAOOO he’s so cute ik he would😭😭
like him waking up fresh in the morning, his glasses on the nightstand and ur right next to him and all he can see is just a fucking blob (i know he has the absolute worst eyesight ever. his eyes probably get larger when he has his glasses on it’s so funny.)
lol and you’ve definitely tried on his glasses before at least once just for the fun of it, and GOD it gave u a headache. ur just blinking rapidly, trying to adjust what won’t and physically cringing at how blurry everything is and how thick his lens’s are😭 while he’s just staring at you lowkey making fun of his eyesight. but harvey wouldn’t be harvey without his bad eyesight, & we love him for it <33
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sysig · 5 months
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Delusions (Patreon)
"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.
"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."
Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.
Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.
"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.
"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?
"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"
Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.
"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.
No, not angry.
Betrayed.
He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.
"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"
Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.
"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.
"Sir, I didn't-"
"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#ZEX#Dexter Favin#And a drabble-fic under the cut#I ended up writing that the night after I read - I was a bit too inspired while busy so it's a little on the unfocused side haha#I would've cleaned it but I worry it wouldn't make it out of that stage! Please enjoy it for now <3#This set is mostly periphery ideas - inspired by events rather than directly shown ♪ I suppose the first two kinda count tho#But they're more directly of the little scene I wrote ouò Poor ZEX </3#And Dex! He's usually so capable! But he's stretching himself so thin ahh it's hard to watch in the best way#Of course he doesn't want to give ''Max'' over to just anyone - anyone at all really - both of their trusts have bottomed out#But how much could he reasonably care for him in that state? When he's still being actively haunted and most importantly - Not Max#He needs helps he needs support he needs to sleep and shower but a second with his eyes off Max and - then what? He'll immolate from fear#It's hard to imagine him crying but pushed to this extreme? To the thought of losing Max utterly and completely? Hhhhh#I do also just love him being possessive even outside of how terrible the situation is - he's always had his glimpses but this situation#Brings out the worst in him <3 In terrible ways#Really his method is just setting ''Max'' up nearby and prompting him over the sound of the shower like that's not nerve-wracking at all#Like he already doesn't answer half the time if that#As for the mini fic I was really interested in Dex's line about indulging ''Max's'' delusions#Apart from the fact that they're not delusions - not that anyone believes him outside of the Institute - what it means to indulge is weird#I saw one example of how to handle delusions that stuck with me - how not to deny them outright while also not reinforcing them#Since it's not actually helpful to be told ''That isn't Really happening to you'' when to you - to ZEX - it really is! How invalidating#And so rather to take the approach of ''I don't see/feel/hear what you are - I can't find any evidence of it myself'' and extrapolating#Dex taking the approach of ''What reality are you experiencing right now?'' and trying to build from there!#Unfortunately ZEX has already been treated like....well like all that - he's not in the mood for games even well-intentioned ones#He /knows/ he's in a human body. He can feel that and see that and understands that. It doesn't change who - what he /is/#The idea of a completely broken ZEX is so sad to me :( He's so strong and prideful and vivacious - Max really is another him </3#It's not the same but he was saved from death! To fall into torture... But even despite that I want to see him succeed! As much as he can#Even in that small and shaking way I want to see him be hateful and spiteful - angry. Powerful <3 Fighting ♥
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jamietxrtt · 1 month
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“keep your eyes shut.”
😈 gratuitous whumpy drabble time
Driving Jamie Tartt to hospital was not, he had to admit, Roy's idea of a good morning.
A good morning was a warm cup of tea on a cool morning, a nice leisurely two hours of defrosting time when nobody tried to talk to him at all.
It was not rushing out of the house with a granola in one hand and a coffee in the other, and nearly spilling said coffee everywhere when he tripped across an unconscious body. And then waking said body and manhandling it into a car to go to hospital while it protested within an inch of its life.
Roy thought that maybe, once in the car, Jamie would give up the fight and go get his stitches and concussion check quietly.
But Jamie never could make things easy, could he?
“I’m really alright,” Jamie said for the nineteenth time. “It’s been bleeding on and off all night, y’know, and I’ve managed not to keel over and fucking die so far.”
A low growl crept from the back of Roy’s throat. “All night you spent sleeping on my porch steps like a fucking dog.”
Jamie took the washcloth down from his forehead to scowl at Roy, and fresh dark bulbs of blood sprouted up along the gash through this temple.
“Oi!” Roy barked. “Pressure.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, pressing the cloth back to his head.
“You could’ve rung the fucking doorbell, you know.”
Jamie waved him off. “Knew you’d freak out. Which you did. I didn’t want a fuss.”
“So you thought it would be less alarming to let me find you passed out and fucking bloody when I opened the door in the morning?”
Jamie winced. “Okay, yeah, maybe not the best plan. But I’m alright, really.”
Roy grunted. “We’ll let the doctors decide that.”
“Roy—”
“It’s not an argument, Jamie. We’re already nearly there.”
“We’re— what?” Jamie looked out the window shield, as if noticing for the first time that they were moving. “What the fuck, why're you going so fast!”
“Speed limits are for people without medical emergencies in their passenger seats.”
“Crash the fucking car, why don’t you,” Jamie muttered. “You old enough for them to take away your license yet?”
Roy growled again.
.
As they pulled into the hospital car part, Roy realized why Jamie was so reluctant about the hospital thing.
He’d figured the kid was just being contrarian (read: an arsehole) and difficult for fun (read: a little prick). Or trying to maintain some tough-guy veneer, as if anybody fucking cared about how tough you were when your head was bloody cracked open. But as soon as the hospital was in sight, Jamie started shifting uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat beside Roy. By the time the car was parked, Jamie’s eyes were wide.
“I— uh…” It was always strange, how Jamie managed to do this. Managed to go from Jamie Fucking Tartt, prick extraordinaire, who’s favorite pastime was getting under Roy’s skin, to Jamie, just Jamie, wide-eyed and spongy and bone-achingly young, in a matter of a few seconds. Threw Roy for a loop every single time he did it.
“I really don’t want to do this, Roy.”
Now that the car was parked, Roy could turn to assess him fully. The injuries didn't look any better than they had when he'd first shaken Jamie awake-- the gritty scrape along his chin, the darkening black eye clinging to the bottom of his socket, and, of course, that garish slash, hidden in the center of a purple bruise, ripping from Jamie's temple to the top of his forehead.
(Probably more injuries that Roy couldn't see, but he was trying not to think about that at the moment lest he start shouting.)
But now he could see that Jamie's hand, fallen into his lap with the cloth bunched up in a fist, was shaking.
"You don't like hospitals," Roy said, more a statement than a question.
Just as quickly as frightened, vulnerable Jamie had appeared, he vanished again, Jamie's glare snapping up across his face like a window shutter. "How'd you guess that one, Einstein?"
Roy ignored him. "It'll probably be quick. They'll give you a concussion test, pop a few stitches in your head, give you some Paracetamol and send you home."
Jamie visibly shuddered.
“I… Will you.” Jamie kept his face turned away, unable to look him in the eye, as he mumbled something.
“Hm?”
“I said, will you go in with me?” Despite the situation, Roy managed to notice that Jamie’s ears were going pink. “…Please?”
“Well, of course I’m going in with you.” Roy shook his head. “What, you think I’m gonna drive you here and kick out out on the curb and drive away? I’ll help you check in and all.”
“I didn’t mean—” Jamie gave a frustrated scoff, glancing back at Roy. “Not just the waiting room. I mean, like… will you go in with me, to do the fucking— tests, and stitches, and shit.”
“Oh.” Roy didn’t know what to say. Jamie’s ears turned an even darker shade of Red.
“Nevermind,” he said quickly, starting to get out of the car. “It’s stupid, I’ll just—”
“No, no.” Roy caught his arm. “Of course I’ll go in with you. If the nurses and all them let me.”
Despite his crimson ears, Jamie’s face flooded with relief. He nodded.
.
“And there you go,” the kind doctor said, putting away the cleaning swabs. “All cleaned out. Now we just have to pop a few stitches in and you’ll be on your way.” She smiled.
It wasn’t Sarah, as much as Roy had lobbied to try to get his sister to treat Jamie, she was busy with other patients (and no special treatment, Roy, she echoed in his brain). But this doctor was kind, another woman, older, with smile lines around her eyes.
Privately, Roy was glad Jamie’d gotten a lady doctor. Earlier, one of the nurses taking his tests had been a man, an older man, shining light in Jamie’s eyes and asking him questions. Roy noticed the way Jamie started to stumble over his words, and he had a suspicion it wasn’t entirely due to the concussion.
Jamie seemed more at ease now with the lady doctor, but he eyed the tiny needle she brought out and leaned away warily.
He made a noise in the back of his throat, like a baby seal. “You’re gonna use that on my head?”
“Don’t worry, love, it’s all numbed up, you won’t feel anything.”
Jamie looked to Roy, panicked. Get me out of here.
“You did just fine with the cleaning,” Roy told him, quietly. “Why is this different? You won’t feel it.”
“Because she’s putting a fucking needle in my head, maybe?” He leaned as far away from the doctor as she could without falling off the examination table.
Roy knew people were often scared of needles— had held Phoebe through more than one tantrum about a flu shot— but this wasn’t like that. It wasn’t a syringe. It was tiny, really, a small little curve of metal the doctor had to grip between tweezers to even hold. Nothing to be afraid of, in Roy’s view.
But Jamie seemed to disagree. As the doctor picked up the needle with a smile, producing some special-looking thread, Jamie lost it, cringing as he turned away.
“Ah, yeah, no. No, I’m not doing this.” He started to get up from the examination table. “I’m not. I’m not. I can’t.”
“It’s alright, love.” The doctor frowned as the wound on Jamie’s head started bleeding again. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing the entire time I’m doing it. I won’t do anything more than necessary to close the wound up, hm? Only take a few minutes.”
“No,” Jamie shook his head vigorously, then winced. “I never should’ve come here, I— Fuck—”
The lady doctor turned to Roy, a placating smile on her face. Could you…?
Roy cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Jamie.” He took the younger man’s hand.
The sudden act of touch seemed to shock Jamie out of his panic. Roy wasn’t usually a hand-holding type.
“You’re okay,” Roy said. “I promise.”
Jamie’s eyes flitted between the doctor and Roy.
“How about this?” Roy said. “You close your eyes, and I’ll stay right here holding your hand, and she’ll do what she needs to do and you won’t even feel it. And you can just talk to me. And when you open your eyes again it’ll be done.”
He remembered a few months ago, when Phoebe had to have blood drawn and threw an absolute fit about it. Roy had sat by her side and talked to her, told her don’t look at it, look at me, distracted her until it was done.
Jamie looked back at Roy, his eyes wide and full of fear.
Fuck, how did he manage to look so fucking young sometimes?
“I’ve got you,” Roy promised. “Close your eyes. Trust me.”
After a long, uncertain moment, Jamie slowly squeezed his eyes shut.
“Okay. Okay. Good lad.” Roy watched as the doctor began to work. “Okay. She’s wiping the new blood up with another one of those pads. Okay. All clean.”
Jamie’s hand was shaking. Roy squeezed it harder.
“She’s got the needle and thread, now, she’s going to start—”
Jamie jerked away when the tweezers got close to his face, his eyes starting to flutter open—
“No, Jamie, it’s okay. Just keep your eyes shut, alright? Breathe.” Jamie obeyed, closing his eyes tightly again. Roy took in an over-exaggerated breath, and Jamie followed suit.
“Good. Good lad,” Roy said as he watched the needle poke through Jamie’s skin. “You’re doing good.”
Jamie took another deep breath.
“She’s already halfway done, see? You’re okay. You’re doing good.”
Jamie started to shake underneath the needle, and the doctor paused. Didn’t want to poke him anywhere unintentionally, Roy thought.
“It’s okay. You’re alright.”
The shaking ceased, and the doctor finished the job, clipping the thread with a single snip.
“All done,” she said quietly. She smiled at Jamie. “No more needles.”
Roy went to drop Jamie’s hand, but the younger man clung on. His eyes were still shut.
“You can open your eyes, Jamie.”
He did. Looked around him, observed the absence of a needle (the doctor had put it away), and relaxed. He let go of Roy’s hand. “Sorry. Thanks.”
Roy shook his head. “No. You did well.”
Jamie’s hand drifted up to touch his forehead, but the doctor stopped him. “Oh, careful, love, careful. You don’t want to mess up those stitches, hm? Then we’d have to do this all again.”
That was an effective deterrent. Jamie kept his hands to himself.
“Let me call Nurse Osgood.” The nice doctor smiled again. “He’ll just do one more once over, and then you can be on your way, hm?”
Jamie’s eyes were still a bit faraway, so Roy nodded for him. “Thanks,” he told the doctor, and she left.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Jamie said quietly, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”
Roy shrugged. “It’s nothing.” He patted Jamie’s shoulder gently. “You ready to go home?”
“Please.”
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forgottenarthur · 3 months
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50. Writer's preference - "And what if it is not you?"
The barb stung and Arthur turned away as quickly as if she had struck him.
These walks had become something of a tradition between the Prince and former Princess over the rolling weeks. With the out of doors near unpassable, Arthur's mornings had shifted to a shorter indoor practice before dawn, followed by a brief repast and then a stroll through the Orangery with the Lady Aria. Though they still argued as often as they didn't, there was something free and flowing in these conversations -- a strange sense that no subject was off limits...And that every single one was somehow taboo. It was perhaps true that they had each been raised as royalty, but it seemed their worlds could not have been more different.
Today, the subject had fallen to that all-encompassing theme of his life, the most pressing topic in the empire, and the one least likely ever to be openly addressed: Roderick's line of succession. It was an ache in his gut, this, a hill he had run up all his childhood only to find a sheer rockface confronting him. Now, scrambling for footholds in the brutal cliffside, it was a race to the top against those he loved most -- a climb now far too high to risk the drop. It was success or the death of all meaning. But what was he to do? Throw his siblings from the sides? They too held on by meager fingertips and he could not bear to think of them dashed against the teeth of the unforgiving stone so far below.
Arthur's jaw clenched. He kept her pace, but he no longer looked at her as she spoke; heard her only as if from a great distance. What was there to say? Yet, her last words burned, searing like vinegar in his cuts, and he turned sharply towards her, a rush sounding in his head.
"What? You favor someone else?" he demanded, all effort at bluster or calm stripped away. Surprise seemed to register in his face and, pressing his eyes shut, he shook his head, realizing she meant this only as rhetoric and, with a look of defeat, he sighed; shook his head. "How should I know? It would be the end for me."
He didn't look at her, now, gaze straying upwards towards the gently nodding trees, branches heavy and sagging with fruit. He thought of the tart-sweet of them, tawny and opening with a kind of crack. Fibrous chambers of juice attended the tiny seeds at the center and this, then, was life. Even trees limned their children with sweet cushions against the harsh reality of the world around them. When he laughed, it was a bitter sound.
Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "Aria, I--" but he stopped. He'd not said her name so baldly before and he gestured, helpless, voice trapped within his throat.
Her eyes were dark: not mere chocolate, but something else as if the sea had leaked into them and tossed against stormy shores within her mind. Her face was set, but he could not read it. He searched for something written there, something designed for him to read: he wanted it. He knew the message he wished to read. A very simple message. He wanted to read it again and again, see it roiling within the storm of her eyes. But there was nothing. She was no harbor. She was, perhaps, another deathly drop.
Aria lifted her chin. "Go on."
"I don't know what will happen if my father chooses someone else any more than you do. But I do know I will be a threat to whoever is chosen, simply for having been in the running, and..."
And if it were Edmund who were selected, whom Arthur regarded as the most likely alternative, he would not expect to long outlive his father -- or even his father's choice. Enemies of the House of Calainon had a way of disappearing. Arthur was not altogether certain they even lifted a finger: they were witches, after all. Likely, all they needed do was wish for a thing, and their dark magic did the rest. Edmund might not wish him gone, perhaps...but Amira would not hesitate. He could not help but think that would make for a horrible ending, all the demons of hell rising at her command. His would be a silent end, he had no doubt, yet he knew, too, that if it were by Amira's hand, he would die howling.
If Aria had said something else, Arthur had not heard it. At last, she said: "And what if the Emperor doesn't choose? What happens to us all, then?"
Arthur stopped short, and Aria beside him. "Then it'd be war."
He walked out without another word.
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tomatoswup · 1 year
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summary: the when's and development of your feelings for a certain typhoon.
warnings: angst? more bittersweet really
A/N: honestly, this was a quick drabble after finishing notes for class :D since it was just a quick idea, i didn't really develop into a whole backstory and stuff without getting ahead of myself lmao but angst? yes(my first attempt) also was listening to tame impala's "For the First Time" as I wrote this so that kinda explains alot, enjoy!
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When you first started gaining feelings for Vash, it was a night filled with thought and contemplation from your own head. Was this right? He was your best friend for god sake! No, you can't like him. It's not that you didn't want to, you couldn't. Your mind told you to hold back, to stop whatever was developing in you about the typhoon. And as much as you didn't want to accept it, you were in denial. The pair of you have traveled together for so long but you never got tired of the mischievous glint in his eyes, and the toothy smile he would shoot at you. You found it..cute.
In your own words, Vash was too considerate for a world that put their back to him, and you found it admirable.
You clenched the jacket you wore tightly as the snores of your caravan filled the night behind a large rock you sat behind. Maybe you needed the priest to pray for you...
When you started accepting your feelings for him, it felt as if your stomach constantly hurt every time you'd stand too near to him. And honestly, Vash had been the first crush you've had in a real long time and that flustered you a bit more. Whenever he'd put his hands on your shoulders, the familiar sensation of electricity ran up your back to which he'd curiously ask why your face had flushed red. Were you sick? He recommended a day off from working around with Wolfwood. Of course he did. when he walked away, you couldn't help but quickly cover your face with your hands.
When you noticed the difference, it kind of...hurt. The fact that he had become more affectionate with Meryl, seeking to find her side and accompany her more than he had with you. Was that a hand-hold? You felt a minor tinge in your heart. But that was okay! You guys were still best friends! Why were you feeling some type of way about it? You should be supporting him! You try to shrug the thought off and continue walking behind them as that little toothy smile you loved and had thought was reserved for just you, was given to another. You smiled on to the both of them, ignoring the growing ache in your chest.
When Wolfwood finally noticed the change in your behavior whenever you gazed at the pair, you had already fallen deep into the heavy pressure that resided in your heart. You didn't want to stop Vash from going after Meryl. What kind of person would you be if you did? Wolfwood confronts you as you had temporarily stepped away one night as everyone took camp in the dry deserts of No Man's Land. And as the more questions Wolfwood asked you, the more your throat felt as if it wanted to burn. And it wasn't until he asked a singular question, that you broke. You sobbed as the ache in your chest got unbearable and so heavy your stomach dropped to the floor and the familiar feeling of wanting to throw up arose. Wolfwood sighs and takes a seat next to you, rubbing your back as you leaned onto him for support.
"Is it needle-noggin and Meryl?"
When Vash and Meryl got officially together and Vash had come to break the news to you, you couldn't help but give him a pained smile, not even attempting to speak in fear of a tear falling out. and he asks what's wrong? Were you feeling okay? Did you need help? And he gives you that same toothy-nervous grin when you shake your head in fake reassurance.
oh how you missed that smile.
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crabsnpersimmons · 26 days
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I have a question.
What would your CLIP AU voice be like?
probably the voice of your Sun and Moon hairdresser AU is exactly like that of the original daycare attendant sun and moon.
but what about Clip? it's a thin and lovely voice?, or calm and gentle like in the original Eclipse?
Or Is the voice different?
good question! and a tricky one, because i don't have any exact references to pull from and i don't know how much will translate, but i will try to explain the best i can
First: in the hairdresser AU, Sun and Moon actually sound a little different from canon! It's been a long time since their time at their PizzaPlex and they've undergone a lot of change, and that shows in their voices. So they used to sound like their canon voices, but they've changed over time.
Sun's voice is gentler than his canonical voice and it doesn't fluctuate as much (switching from excitable, to sarcastic, to threatening). Overtime, Sun has learned to keep his tone even and approachable. The best way to describe Sun is that he is even-tempered and calm. He rarely gets over-emotional, but Moon and Clip have a way of getting to him, since they know each other the closest. He only ever slips into his old voice and vocal habits (like repeating words) around Moon and Clip, usually in the form of sarcasm to balance their silliness (like his comments in this post). i like to describe Sun's voice as his customer-service voice, light and cheery enough to be appropriate for the situation.
Moon's voice is still a little raspy, but unlike his canon voice, it's less guttural and his pitch doesn't fluctuate as much. He also speaks in full sentences haha. The notable thing about Moon's voice is that it lacks the playful gremlin quality we all love about canon Moon. His tone isn't as playful and he doesn't giggle as much as he used to. Perhaps he'll have a short friendly chuckle when talking to a customer, but it's not gremlin level laughter. i think the closest voice reference i can think of is Corey Wilder's voice dub for Moon. still a little raspy without being too guttural, and more eloquent and charming in his delivery. Overall his tone is kinda dry, but when he begins to open up (like in this post), his voice takes a softer tone, closer to canon.
and finally Clip! In a way, his voice is probably the closest to canon Sun and Moon's. His voice fluctuates a lot jumping around from canon Sun's lofty theatrics to canon Moon's menacing glee. He's dramatic, he's silly, he cackles, he giggles, he rambles, he growls, he makes animal noises, he's all over the place! And there is no rhyme or reason to it, it's just fun for Clip. No matter the time of day, Clip is here to play play play! However, there are rare moments when his voice sounds like canon Eclipse from the Ruin DLC. It's that sweet and gentle tone, but there is a staticky quality in his voice, crackling like someone who hasn't spoken in a while.
...
i hope that made sense!
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goldenhypen · 11 months
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; ⎯ GOLDENHYPEN’S DARK BLOOD REQUEST EVENT ?! [CLOSED]
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in celebration of enhypen’s new comeback, dark blood, i will be opening drabble requests! here are the rules:
send me an ask with:
one prompt from this list;
an enhypen member of your choice;
any storyline/details/genres you’re eager to read.
reminder that this is a sfw blog, meaning, all works are sfw skdjdj
only one request per ask please!
you can submit multiple requests, just separate them into one req per ask.
please be patient! i’ll try to get all requests out asap but please understand that i do have a life outside of tumblr too :)
i would also suggest reading the general req rules before submitting anything just in case; if i receive a request that breaks any of these, i’ll have to turn it down :(
also to clarify, the drabbles don’t have to do anything with dark blood or the concept or anything (unless you want it to be!) i just thought doing prompt requests again would be fun at a time like this!
and another thing, because these will be drabbles, this means your request will likely not end up being over 1k words.
i don’t have a deadline yet but for now i’ll aim to keep it open for a week or so (keep an eye on my pinned post to see the status of requests). happy requesting! REQUESTS ARE NOW CLOSED!
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lavenoon · 1 year
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Accidentally Undercover - Sorry Sun, Moon isn't quite in the mood to hear you gush about your fun day
The fun day in question
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starzgaze · 5 hours
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LOVESICK POTENTIAL: sung jinwoo
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pairing: yandere!sjw/reader
UNFINISHED incoherent drabble brainrot on yandere!sjw hahaha... this is so unfinished but it fried my brain so badly all i can do is draw this out later because i cant write for long periods of time 😒 also english isn't my first language so this is really ERRR not good also no proofreading we die raw
tw: froth and nothing much
BEFORE THE DUNGEON EVENT:
This era of jinwoo was so cute he looked so squishy I'm biting my bedsheets. This time is the perfect moment where jinwoo gets his reasons on why he's a little cuckoo over [y.name].
Jinwoo always came home covered in bruises and maybe with a dent in his mental health. I mean not only you face life threatening monsters but you also face the words of your fellow hunters that consists of demeaning and degrading your whole existence does horriblewonders to Jinwoo's mental health! After when his mother came out of the picture by falling ill to the Eternal Slumber, Jinwoo had to face the expectations on becoming the breadwinner and help to keep his family a float.
Jinwoo doesn't have ambitions or anything during this time, not when he's too focused on trying to feed Jinah and pay the bills. He's a blank pitiful slate who's being driven by desperation and the promise he made to his mother to take care of his sister. He doesn't have anyone to turn to and he can't tell what he's experiencing to his sister because that'll make her worry for him! Jinwoo doesn't want his sister to flunk her studies because he made her worry for him... so he's basically alone.
Until you come in to the picture. [y.name] one of the few people who saw him as a person instead of some weak pitiful excuse of a hunter. It doesn't really matter how you meet Jinwoo, whether it be through connections, after a dungeon raid, or you randomly meeting him on the street, what matters is how you perceive him as a person and how you turn his miserable world upside down.
When [y.name] entered his life, it felt like a ball of light entered his dim world but not as if [y.name] was extremely energetic or what not. It was more like that [y.name] ignited something within Jinwoo. [y.name] would stop by and talk to Jinwoo, solidifying his self as a person. They would talk about ideals and goals and even encourage Jinwoo to maybe create his own when they found out that he didn't had any of his own. Jinwoo felt so warm inside whenever he'd spent time with [y.name]. He felt so inexplicably happy.
Jinwoo decided that [y.name] is his goal and the driving force of his ambitions.
Jinwoo limped a bit as he walked towards his small apartment he shared with his sister. It was what remained when his mother was sent to the hospital for falling ill. He groaned silently as he clenched his arm that was throbbing in pain. Even after being recently healed by Joohee, he could still feel the pain of his arm being battered to smithereens.
He wondered how many dungeon raids left till he'll perish by the hands of some low ranking monster.
The young man approached his door before suddenly being called out by a familiar voice. Jinwoo turned around and his bleak mood was changed into a more joyful one.
"Jinwoo! I caught 'ya this time!" [y.name] giggled as they skipped over to Jinwoo, a small mischievous smile plastered on their features. Jinwoo chuckled at [y.name]'s words as he admired [y.name]. He wondered what did he do in his life to meet [y.name]
Jinwoo hoped that the next dungeon raid isn't the one where he'll perish by the hands of a monster.
AFTER THE DUNGEON EVENT:
Jinwoo would probably avoid contacting [y.name]. After realizing he has a new opportunity to get stronger. His mental health before wasn't the best, he often thought he was pulling [y.name] back and has this mindset that he didn't deserve any of the kindness he was receiving from anyone especially from [y.name]
But now? he has now the chance to pay them all back by becoming stronger and become someone they can all rely on. So randomly... he'll just disappear from [y.name]'s life randomly. Jinwoo feels horrible but he isn't ready to face [y.name] again but he promises to himself that he'll meet his darling[y.name] soon.
Jinwoo would admire [y.name] from afar and sometimes do this just for the sake of answering to his personal question of: "I wonder how are they doing now?". Jinwoo is aware how much it hurts to [y.name] that he randomly disappeared from their life without a word especially how worried they were for him.
When Jinwoo finally deems he's prepared and worthy enough to face [y.name] he almost forgotten how different he looked when he last met [y.name]. Jinwoo almost scared [y.name] away when a devilishly handsome tall young man approached them with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Thankfully, [y.name] recognized the man from the slightly meek demeanor he showed.
Maybe after a few more meetups and catch ups, [y.name] would notice the many changes on Jinwoo's overall.. being? like aside from the fact he's now built like a sculpture made by the gods, he's more confident and charming?.. Jinwoo of course didn't miss the way how [y.name] would quiet down and stare at Jinwoo, taking note every little different detail on Jinwoo. This fed the hunter's ego and was proud how his hardwork paid off.
While [y.name] was admiring Jinwoo, they didn't notice how Jinwoo added a few of his shadows into [y.name]'s shadow. His love for [y.name] during their absence has doubled a thousand fold and the lengths he'd go for [y.name] is now boundless. Jinwoo's goal of achieving [y.name] might not be impossible anymore if he pushed himself a bit more just like what [y.name] says.
After meeting up with Jinwoo, [y.name] bid the hunter goodbye as they exited the cafe. [y.name] was pleasantly joyful that Jinwoo didn't forgotten about them and met up with them again after a few years but this still didn't made [y.name] pissed off over the fact he basically ghosted them for a few years too!
[y.name] walked down the cold street that was dimly lit up by the lamp posts around the area. They shivered a bit as they tried to warm up their hands by shoving one of them in their trenchcoat's pocket. [y.name] was on their phone when they suddenly bumped into a man by accident.
"ow.. oh? I'm sorry I didn't notice you there I'm really sorr—" [y.name] stammered out as they bowed their head in apology but then they felt a hand pushing them hard enough to be stumble back into a lamp pole, hitting their back pretty hard. The man reached out to [y.name]'s trenchcoat's pocket and pulling out their purse then he ran away with their purse in hand.
"agh! what the- my purse?!" [y.name] yelled as they rubbed their back to ease the throbbing pain as they tried to run after the robber.
Unfortunately for [y.name] he was fast on his feet and after for a while they lost him. [y.name] panted as they decided to not give up yet and looked around the now lightless and eerie street, it seems like the robber ran into a more abandoned side of the city.
[y.name] roamed around the street and would peak occasionally inside of alleyways hoping to catch the man but much to their dismay, they haven't seen any glimpses or hints. They mindlessly walked around, slowly losing hope until they heard a quick shriek then a hard thump from a nearby alleyway. A cold sweat went down their neck as they froze in place... Did something happen?
[y.name]'s eyes narrowed down on the alleyway where they assumed the sound originated from. They contemplated for a bit whether they should check it out before they decided to see what it was, clinging on the possibility it might be their purse. [y.name] slowly peeked their head in the alleyway and immediately gasped at the sight.
The man who stole their purse on floor, wriggling in pain before a dark figure. Froth was coming out of his mouth as dark inky shadows circled around his throat. His ankles looked twisted but in a very unnatural degree that it looked grotesque.[y.name]'s eyes shakily looked at the soon to be a corpse then up to the figure who was holding their purse. They blinked blankly at the figure.. [y.name] recognized him?!
"Jin..woo?..." [y.name] murmured underneath their breath as the figure looked up to see [y.name] who was pretty shaken up. The light finally hits the figure's and it revealed it was indeed Jinwoo... but he had this soulless glint in his eyes that suddenly brighten up at the sight of [y.name]
"ah. [y.name]" He called out as he walked past the struggling man and approached [y.name] who took a step back away from Jinwoo. This made his heart wrench.
"don't. don't move away. it's dangerous at this time, you shouldn't be alone" Jinwoo continued as he was finally in front of a terrified [y.name]
"you shouldve accepted my offer walking you home"
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thereaderarchive · 8 months
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ch. 52: Aftermath (concert 4)
• for @drarrymicrofic prompt: Aftermath | words: 148 | all chapters / prev / next
"Stop giving me the stinky eye, I'm eating," Ron says to Harry, a spoon not quite yet in his mouth.
"You could have told me."
"I'm sorry, ok?, I'll do it from now on," Ron says nodding. "What are we talking about?"
"Malfoy!"
"Ah, of course," he rolls his eyes. He knew this was coming. He knows Harry as the back of his hand and he noticed all the glances, the "Um… so how's been partnering with Malfoy?" And "You had lunch with Malfoy? How is everything?" Or "Wow, he keeps his side of the office quite tidy. Does he make origami still?" And "Who did you invite? Someone from the office?" Honestly, someone should learn subtlety.
"He wears muggle clothes!" Harry hisses.
"Preposterous!"
"And he listens to muggle music!"
"That bastard!"
"Stop making fun of me," Harry punctuates with a soft stinging hex.
"Stop being absolutely bonkers."
Concert Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
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