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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

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YANDERE! TEEN TITANS x YAE MIKO / KITTY CHESIRE ! READER SHORT STORY

the kitty chesire bit is mostly her power to disappear and teleport + love for chaos

as always reader is gender neutral!

[sequel to this fic]

“YOU. . . HAVE A FOX FORM ? !”

Your team member, Garfield, shouted into your ear as you untied him and the rest of the members after a battle you won.

Via tricking them of course. You were meant for stealth and illusions, not fighting. Most missions with the Titans had you as a scout or back-up. Rarely were you in the heat of the fight.

It was mostly due to your penchant with being a liability. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, placing you with the main group was a recipe for disaster.

It was a perfect role for you. Cause really, who enjoys sitting back and watching everything unfold? You did.

And after watching your friends getting their asses handed to them and laughing for several minutes while invisible (so that they could definitely hear you but you wouldn’t get captured). You came in to save the day.

“Oh, how could you not know BB. I thought we were friends!” You sighed dramatically while finally untying the last member and leader, Robin.

Despite your close proximity, you fail to notice the rare grin on his face.

“Hey, that’s my line! How could you not tell your best friend, huh?!”

“To be fair, it should have been obvious.” Rachel commented. Her cape had gotten covered in some unknown goop, so her voice came out strained as she tried flicking it off.

“Yeah, Garfield. Kitsune, Fox. It’s hard not to know about it.” Jaime added. The scarab on his back’s eyes glow red in agreement.

“I feel wounded, hurt, unimaginable pained—“ Garfield grasped his chest. “But you know what would make me feel b-“

“In your dreams.” You quickly answered. Already knowing what he’ll request. It wasn’t as if you didn’t like turning into your fox form. But you had a plan,

and that plan was chaos.

“I didn’t even finish!”

“Give or take another hundred years or so, then it’ll be a maybe.”

“But- But why—?”

“My kitsune form is not a party trick or just something that can be shown at a whim. It has to be special, as is the person I show it to.”

“Wait, so that’s why you didn’t show me? I thought it was cause you couldn’t do it for another hundred years or so.” Rachel perked up as soon as she heard your words. The remaining goop on her cape forgotten.

“I thought it was because only humans or other beings from Earth could witness it.” Kori crossed her arms.

“You mean it isn’t dangerous for you to turn into one in case you aren’t able to turn back?!” Dick, Jaime, and Victor all screeched in unison.

“Excuses may vary from person to person.”

“[Y/N]!”

Ah yes, all according to plan.

It wasn’t that long before you all had another mission to accomplish. It wasn’t that hard really, in fact the enemies seemed a lot weaker in comparison to the previous ones.

So why were you and the rest tied up?

“Oh no, we’re at risk of dying. Whatever could we do?” Garfield feigned a moan of pain.

“Maybe if [Y/N] shifted into their Kitsune form and got out of their restraints—“ Victor tried suggesting but, like what you did with Garfield last time, you shut him down immediately.

“No.”

Everyone instantaneously gets out of their restraints. No effort at all.

These goddamn desperate little shits—

It had been a month or so since Garfield and the rest found out you weren’t turning into a fox simply because you didn’t want to and they have yet to lose gas when it came to motivation.

It had even gone to the point where the Justice League and heck, even some villains and other unaffiliated vigilantes joined the mix. It was as if every moment someone was trying to coerce you to transform.

“Guys let’s have dinner!” Dick called out from the tower’s kitchen, not bothering with the intercoms since he knew you were close by. As a Kitsune you had a fantastic sense of smell, as such you were already hovering the kitchen since the start.

“Is that . . . [Favorite Food] and - and [Favorite Drink]?” Your mouth watered as you gazed at the dining table. All of your favorite meals, snacks, and beverages were all laid out. Ready to be consumed—

“Ah, ah! Let us see your Kitsune form first.”

You took one long stare at him before disappearing, literally. “I’m ordering take out.”

“God damn it!” The rest of the team all exit from their hiding spots, absolutely saddened by the lack of reaction and that they couldn’t spoil you with your favorites for once.

(It’s not like they can forget about your fox form and just give you everything on a silver platter. Hell no!)

You trudged to Damian’s room. Still invisible until you were sure you entered without anyone seeing you.

You reappear with a smile before shortly turning into a miniature [Favorite Color] fox.

“Tired?” Damian asked, still focused on his computer while you jumped to his lap and made yourself comfortable.

“Mm. Not really! They’re really funny when they’re like that.”

He nodded at your response and began petting you. His other hand reached forward to his phone, “Hey, are you still open? … Yeah . May I have [Favorite Food] delivered at this address…”

You faked a gasp. You knew he had been watching over you since the beginning. Normal people would have freaked out and questioned how knew but you didn’t. How could you? He is your boyfriend after all. Him knowing everything was expected. At least, that’s what he always says, and you didn’t really mind so . . . “You’re the best, Damey!”

“I know.” He finally gazed at you. The love in his eyes are as clear as day, “Now, get off. We have to pick up our order.”

General Batfam Taglist: @the-sander-fander

#yandere batfam #yandere x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere teen titans x reader #yandere raven x reader #yandere cyborg x reader #yandere beast boy x reader #yandere nightwing x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere dc #genshin x dc #dc x genshin #yandere batfam x reader #yandere teen titans

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itsmealaiah · 4 months

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PLEASE I NEED A SUBMISSIVE BILL WHERE HE LITERALLY NEEDS US SO BAD AND WE HAVE TO HELP HIM. LIKE CAN YOU MAKE IT FROM ANGST TO SMUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. 🙏 I NEED IT SO BAD IM LITERALLY GOING RABID I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK.

honestly same 😔

Can you take care of me love?

thank you for the request bb 🫶🫶 love you

tags/ warnings: sub! bill, bill being bratty, riding, p in v, head, dom! reader, cursing, dacryphilia, slight screaming, begging.

pairing: 2010 bill x f reader

MDNI ⚠️

contents: angst + smut

Your POV:

Bill was a complete and utter mess. He had just come back from touring with his band and he was a disaster. His hair was disheveled, his makeup was smeared, and he had a general air of dissatisfaction about him. He slammed the door to his tour bus shut, stomped up the steps, and flung himself across the bed in his room. He let out a frustrated groan, kicking his feet in the air and grinding his hips into the mattress. y/n, his best friend and personal assistant, sighed wearily as I heard the commotion coming from Bill's room. I knew what was coming next.

"Bill!" she yelled, knocking on his door. "You need to calm down and clean yourself up! We've got a photo shoot tomorrow, remember?" There was no response from within the room, so I took it as a sign to barge in. "Bill?" I called, poking my head into the room. "Bill, you better not be ignoring me!"

The twenty-year-old singer rolled over onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows and scowling at her. "Oh, hi ya know, just chillin' over here," he drawled sarcastically. "What do you want, huh?" His voice was laced with annoyance, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"I want you to get your act together, for starters!" I retorted, stomping over to the bed and sitting down next to him. "You're my best friend, Bill, and I love you, but you're being such a brat right now. You need to clean up and get some rest, or you're going to be a mess for the photo shoot tomorrow." He let out a dramatic sigh, but didn't protest as I pulled him into a tight hug. "Come on, you can't keep acting like this. You know you're better than that."

Bill relaxed a little in my embrace, his muscles slowly uncoiling. "Fine," he mumbled into my shoulder. "But you owe me."

I smiled softly and kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. Now, let's get you cleaned up." I helped him sit up and then reached for the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it off his body. His toned, sweaty chest was exposed to the cool air, and I couldn't help but admire the way his defined abs led down to his waistband.

As I worked on getting him undressed, Bill leaned back against the pillows, watching me with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "So, what exactly do you have in mind for taking care of me?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "Are you going to give me a massage or something?"

I grinned cheekily in response. "Maybe later," I teased. "For now, how about I give you a bath? You could use the relaxation, and I think it would do you some good." Bill hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain, but then finally nodded. "Okay," he agreed, "that sounds nice."

I helped him climb out of bed and then led him over to the bathroom. I filled the tub with warm, soothing water and added some lavender bath salts, hoping it would help calm him down. Once everything was ready, I helped Bill step into the tub and then sat down on the edge beside him, taking his wet, dirty hand in mine. "See, this is what I mean," I told him softly. "You just need a little relaxation."

He looked down at our hands, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah," he murmured, "I guess you're right." As I began to gently wash his body with a washcloth, he let out a contented sigh, leaning back against the tub. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension seemed to drain from his muscles. I took my time, washing every inch of his skin, making sure to pay special attention to his neck and behind his ears.

"How's that?" I asked, rinsing the cloth in the water. "Better?"

"Mmm, yeah," Bill murmured, leaning his head back against my hand. "That feels good." He looked up at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks y/n."

I smiled back down at him, my heart fluttering in my chest. There was something so intimate about this moment, so close and personal. It felt…right. As if we were two halves of the same person, somehow perfectly in sync. I leaned forward, my lips brushing against his damp, smooth skin as I kissed his shoulder. "You're welcome, Bill."

He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes drifting closed. "You know," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "

I could really get used to this." His words sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help but press closer, my lips trailing lower on his shoulder, teasing the skin beneath. His body responded to my touch, growing more and more aroused with each passing moment.

"Well," I breathed, "you're in luck, because I think I could get used to this too." I moved my hand to cup his chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his muscles beneath my palm. "I mean, if you want me to…" I trailed off, my voice growing hoarse with desire.

Bill opened his eyes, looking at me with a mixture of lust and affection. "I'd like that very much," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hands found their way to my hips, pulling me closer still.

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath my mouth. His skin was so smooth and soft, and I couldn't resist the urge to explore it with my tongue. I traced his collarbone with my tongue, teasing him, as my other hand moved lower, cupping his erection through his wet swim trunks.

He let out a moan, arching his back into my touch. "Oh fuck, y/n," he groaned. "That feels so good." His hips bucked against my hand, and I could feel the length of him growing harder, straining against me. I couldn't wait any longer.

I helped him out of the tub, guiding him over to the bed where I had laid out a towel earlier. I dried him off with care, paying extra attention to the parts of him that seemed most sensitive. As I dried his lower half, I bent down, kissing and licking my way up his thigh, teasing him with every touch. When I finally reached his hard length, I took him in my hand, stroking him gently as I looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched as he fought for control.

"You're so beautiful, Bill," I whispered, leaning in to kiss the tip of him. "I want you so much." I wrapped my lips around him, taking him deeper into my mouth, sucking gently as I began to bob my head. He let out a groan, his hands tangling in my hair as he thrust helplessly into my mouth. I moaned around him, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him growing hot and slick in my mouth.

I knew he was close, and I wanted to feel him come undone. I picked up the pace, sucking harder and moving my hand in time with my mouth, stroking him faster and faster. His hips bucked wildly, and he cried out my name as he came, his seed spilling down my throat. I swallowed every drop, savoring the salty flavor as it filled my mouth.

As he caught his breath, I leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips, tasting myself on him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as he ran a hand through my hair, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice still ragged from the intensity of his orgasm. "I didn't think anything could feel that good."

I smiled against his skin, feeling a thrill of pride and affection course through me. "Well, I'm glad I could be of service," I whispered, kissing his chest again. His skin was still warm from the bath, and it felt so good against mine. I shifted slightly, straddling him as I trailed my fingers down his abdomen, teasing the hair that had started to darken below his navel.

His hands found their way to my hips again, guiding me lower, urging me to press against him. I obliged, feeling the hard length of his cock pressed against my center. I was still wet from our previous encounter, and I couldn't wait to feel him inside me again. I reached down between us, guiding him to where I wanted him.

He groaned, thrusting forward as he felt the heat of my body surround him. "God, y/n," he breathed, his voice ragged with desire. I arched my back, meeting his thrust with my own, feeling him fill me completely. He held me close, one hand cupping my breast as the other threaded through my wet hair, holding me still as he took me with long, slow strokes.

The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us and the rhythm of our bodies moving together. His skin was hot against mine, and I could feel the strength and power of him as he held me close. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my nails into his shoulders as the pleasure built inside me, higher and higher.

He groaned, his thrusts growing deeper as he felt the tightness of my orgasm approaching. "God, y/n," he muttered, his hips moving faster, his breath hot against my neck. "You feel so good." His fingers dug into my hips, urging me to meet his movements with my own. I arched my back, crying out his name as I came, my body shuddering around him.

His thrusts grew even more forceful as he felt my release, and I could feel the pressure building inside him again. "Fuck, I'm close," he gasped, his hips bucking wildly as he came, his seed spilling deep inside me. He held me tight, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm, and I could feel the way he was still hard, even as he emptied himself into me.

I ran my fingers through his hair, stroking him gently as he recovered from his orgasm. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his skin flushed from exertion and pleasure. "I love how you feel inside me," I whispered, kissing his neck. "So big, and hard…I never want this to end."

He let out a low groan, his hips still moving slightly against mine. "Me too," he murmured, nuzzling my neck. "I could stay like this forever." His hand trailed down my side, tracing lazy circles around my hip.

I shifted my weight slightly, grinding against him as I felt him begin to harden again. His breath hitched, and his hips jerked forward, pushing deeper inside me. "You're insatiable," he breathed, his voice husky with desire. "I'm going to have to fuck you again before we can even think about stopping."

a/n: hope you enjoyed ❤️ ❤️

requests are open!

#itsmealaiah #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x you #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 7 months

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I LOOOOVE Ur Alfie fics. Could u do just general headcannons about being married and starting a family with him? ❤️

Hi bb!!! Im so glad you like them! I hope you enjoy these HCs, I know I kind of went overboard! Maybe I’ll do a continuation?? Maybe I’ll focus on different aspect of life with him? Idk we’ll workshop it. As always, sending all my love 💕💕💕

Married Life with Alfie Solomons - HCs

In planning the wedding, you initially were planning on a small wedding. Nothing too extravagant, just close family and a party at the house.

That’s what you planned anyway. It grew and grew with every family member that “HAD to come treacle!” Both of your families are rather large and extended. Mixed with business associates that had to be invited for sake of peace… it exploded into a 200 person affair.

Despite the fact that Alfie prefers to not be disturbed, it ended up being a grand affair. Drinks flowed. Laughter was raucous. The dancing never stopped! And there were only 3 fights, which Alfie involved himself in only 2 of them. Needless to say, it went rather well!

But your favorite part of the night above all was when you got home. Still giggling and warm from the party, you’re pulled into the parlor by your darling Alfie. Shirt half done, and hair a disaster, he looks so so handsome. His eyes so soft, he puts on the radio, bringing you in close to him, “Mrs. Solomons… would you give an old man a dance?”

And you do. Song after song, twirling around the parlor, enjoying the life that had a new layer of meaning.

Despite Alfie’s insistence that you shouldn’t keep working because, “No love of mine should be lifting a finger.” You kept your job at the distillery as his secretary and head of the jewelry shop. You insisted to Alfie that keeping your job that still made you feel like your own person, not just Alfie’s spouse.

There was something so intimate and special in waking up every morning with him, walking to the office with him, going through the work day, and coming home with him. If Alfie was clingy before, it had only grown worse since your nuptials. He loved having you near. He never wanted you away from his side.

Though the mornings were sweet, the evenings were by far your favorite with Alfie. Coming home, drawing the curtains closed to hide away in your own little oasis of solitude and quiet.

Instead of leaving you to do all the cooking and cleaning for the evening meal like other men of the time, Alfie stays wrapped close to your apron strings. As you craft a soul warming meal, he stays chopping and cutting, washing up the dishes as you go to ensure that the evening is free of any impediments.

Alfie takes Shabbat incredibly seriously. He is on a strict schedule on those days, and actually forbids you from working on Fridays, to let you prepare anything needed for the Sabbath. Many times your family joins you in your home, and Alfie takes the lead in prayers. Though you didn't think it was possible, your heart grows with adoration each time you watch him quietly go through the ritual. Watching his devotion and care to the faith and your people's history reminds you of the type of man he his.

Marriage with Alfie does not come without some arguments. It is Alfie Solomons. Both of you stubborn and passionate, it’s what makes you a formidable force together, but it also brings some… loud outbursts.

It usually is about whether or not he’s being wise in his decisions. But it also comes out when he thinks you’re not being careful. When a jealous flare rises up in him. Or just when he gets a little snippy.

But it doesn’t take much to make up. Once you and Alfie have let it all out, either one of you will go to the other and bridge the gap. When he’s particularly cross, all it takes is for you to find him in his favorite chair. Lean over the back of it, draping your arms across his neck. “I’m so sorry Alfie,” you whisper in his ear, a particular weakness, “I know you’re just looking out for me. Forgive me?” A few kisses in his neck and he’ll be dragging you into his lap, grumbling about how much of a vicious siren you are.

When you’re cross… Alfie pulls out all the theatrics. He comes to your room where you’ve holed up, seething. He gets on his knees, taking your hand in his, “Awe treacle… have pity on an old man. I’m sorry my love, I am. Don’t punish me too harshly now! Please give you husband a kiss yeah? This life is so short! Let’s not go to bed angry my love!”

And of course you forgive him. How can you not when he kisses you so sweetly, and begs so beautifully.

It will be a few years before you and Alfie have children. Alfie was worried that he wouldn’t be a good father due to his age, but in his heart of hearts he wanted little ones. He yearned to play with the kids on the floor with the dogs. To swing them around in the garden. Watch you be an incredible mother. Though he was afraid, you knew he would be the perfect father.

Once you both confessed your mutual desire for kids, it happened shockingly quickly. But is anyone really shocked? Alfie is determined and disciplined above all else.

Once you do get pregnant, Alfie does put his foot down. You are not coming into the office. It is far too dangerous for you to be coming in around all 'that business'. And Alfie heard from someone (he made it up) that working isn't good for birthing or babies.

He benches you for the entire pregnancy, and brings his former housekeeper Sarah out of retirement to help tend to you.

Every night Alfie would come home with something new for you. Brilliant and fragrant flowers. A sweet from the bakery. A new necklace or bracelet that you just had to have. "Growing a baby is hard work love! Especially with my kids! Big ol brutes growing in there eh?"

Whenever you became shy or uncomfortable about your changing body, Alfie would just croon in your ear, "Oh my love, you are absolutely radiant. An angel from God yeah? No no, a goddess. You're an absolute goddess yeah?" He'll rub your swollen feet as you cry, kissing your ankles as you release your stress and worries about the day.

As you can imagine... naming the baby (or babies as he liked to remind you of the possibility) was an incredible ordeal. No name was suitable.

"No no, he'll get hit. If I knew a little boy with that name in school, I would decimate him." "Now treacle that doesn't even sound good with Solomons!" "Mmm no. I don't like the meaning of the name. Not a good omen." "Can't do that name. I killed a man with that name."

After six days!! You both are able to come to an agreement. Joseph for a boy. Chava, after his mother. In the evenings, Alfie takes to reading to the baby, referring to them by both names. "Alfie dearest, there's only one in there!" "No no treacle. I know they're both in there. You may only feel one, but that's because Joseph is just a little shy ain't you my boy? Chava is going to be a little spitfire, just like her mum. They're in there, I know they are."

At night, Alfie pulls you to his side as he always does, with a protective hand splayed over your swollen belly. It's getting harder for you to sleep at night, so many times you lie awake, staring at your husband, running your own hand over your stomach, feeling the kicks and turns.

The prospect of twins is near impossible. But Alfie... he is so certain. And sometimes... sometimes you feel an extra flutter. An extra bit of energy that is almost missed.

The labor is hard. Long. Your mother comes to help along with Sarah and the midwife, and you had never felt pains like that before. Despite Sarah's admonishment, Alfie pushes himself into the room, wanting to be right next to you the entire time. He never leaves your side, brushing the sweat off your brow, kissing your head, reminding you how strong you are.

After 12 hours of labor, Joseph finally makes his appearance in the world. A large baby, with fat cheeks and long limbs. After a few announcing cries, Joseph settles into the arms of his father, fast asleep after his long journey. Alfie rejoices with you, holding up his son with joy, "Joseph! My boy! Welcome my son!"

You smile, a final sense of relief washing over you, until you feel another push coming.

7 minutes later, Chava comes careening into Earth, as loud as the choirs of heaven. Alfie catches Chava, marveling at how such a little body can produce such a sound. As Alfie cleans her face he just whispers, "This one... she will be an opera star."

Alfie joins you in bed once everything is settled. You spend the rest of the evening in and out of sleep. When awake you and Alfie just take turns holding the babies, marveling in how precious they are. How absolutely beautiful they are. While you sleep, Alfie walks around the house with both in his arms, just talking to them.

“Now you might not know this yet my angels… but you have the absolute best mother in the world. No I know, I don’t know how I got to marry her. But she is perfect. The best. We gotta protect her yeah?”

Alfie is the one who gets up in the night. Doesn’t want you to do more than you have to. And you’re already doing so much. Plus, he feels like he missed so much already, waiting till he was older to have a family and all. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment.

Alfie becomes even more soft and tender with you. Each morning he starts his day worshipping you almost. Telling you how much he loves you, how much he loves your children, how much he would give to protect you.

But he does become more paranoid about the dangers surrounding him. There’s two men posted at the door of the house at all times now, and you aren’t to go anywhere without either him or another trusted member of the gang. Though you fought him on it at first, you relented when you saw the palpable fear in his eyes.

He loves to show off the kids. He’s just so proud. He loves how much they look like you. “Better for them eh treacle? Glad they got the more beautiful out of the two.”

And while they did favor your features, they both carried Alfie’s eyes. Both gentle Joseph and powerful Chava carry that roaring ocean behind those dark lashes that brought you to Alfie all those years ago.

As the years go by, you only grow to love each other more and more. And every risk and every trial is worth the beautiful dream you get to have with Alfie.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic

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shortpplfedup · 10 months

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Only Friends Character Rankings Pre-Air

Jojo, Ninew, Ninepinta and Vivienne have now presented their stable of hoes to us, y'all have chosen your fighters, and I am gnawing on concrete in anticipation of August 12. Since I'm gonna be doing weekly character rankings, I wanted to set up a pre-air Clown Checkpoint so I can look back later and see how wrong I was. Until that YouTube premiere countdown hits zero, we know exactly nothing, but I'm ready to predict whose gay wrongs I will most support! Here we go!

1. Nick

I just want you to love only me!

Audience ranking: 6

Ever since Mark Pakin showed up in that pilot trailer scheming and sex-taping, Nick has been MY DUDE. I want him to be the most manclown character of all time. I want him to be DESPERATE AND PATHETIC for Boston's dick. ANSWER EVERY BOOTY CALL NICK, I BELIEVE IN YOU. HE WANTS YOU TO DO A THREESOME? NO PROBLEM, WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE. I want Nick to call his bestie (Sand?) crying because Boston came over at 3:02 a.m. and left at 4:37 a.m. and 15 minutes of that was him taking a post-coital shower. I want crying and begging and clinging and devious acts. Khun Pakin has the chops to make my dreams come alive, make it happen boo!

2. Mew

My type is pretty simple. I'm not a picky kind of guy.

Audience ranking: 4

Right up until time of posting I thought my #2 seed would be Boston, but something is telling me that when it comes to manipulation and making grown men cry, Mew will emerge the champion. Something in this butter-wouldn't-melt expression is telling me this man is the true demon from hell whereas Boston is merely a top-tier-yet-still-garden-variety slut. Him shit-kicking Boston into the pool and then jumping in himself to finish the job is the kinda deranged shit I respect immensely. Kill them all Mew. You deserve.

3. Boston

You should be glad to be my favourite.

Audience ranking: 5

I may have called this man a garden variety slut, but I love a good slut though! Especially one who will lend his toys to help out a friend. And then almost instantly regret it. And then cause chaos and problems for himself as a result. And then make it everybody else's chaos and problems. Basically, I expect Boston's job to be throwing hole around Bangkok and ruining lives, and I expect him to do it WELL, and I expect him to do it in the sluttiest rent boy outfits I've ever seen.

4. Ray

You think my life will be better with you? It's only fucking going down to hell.

Audience ranking: 3

Speaking of chaos and problems, OUR BI DISASTER IS HERE GUYS! Bisexual? Bipolar? Why not both? The trailer is letting us know from jump that Ray is A Mess With Money and happy to use that money to buy himself some company, but also not able to keep those lines from getting blurred. I’m expecting this character to make me fall in love with him but also want to strangle him, Teh Krittikorn Saetun-style, so expect this ranking to go up until he is somehow my fave.

5. Sand

Friends don't charge friends. Besides, you should save your money for a shrink.

Audience ranking: 2

First Kanaphan’s job at GMMTV is to rip our hearts out roughly twice a year, and he’s right on schedule. It seems like Sand never learned not to fall for poor little rich boys, so we will all have to suffer with him. Honestly his ranking is this low right now because I see these guitars and microphones and I want no part of them. There is a short list of GMMTV boys allowed to sing at me and as much as I love First he is not on it. Ditch the microphone and bring back the baseball bat bb, I’m ready to see you bust some heads, kneecaps, car windows, whatever in pursuit of your love.

6. Top

When I take aim, I never miss.

Audience ranking: 7

Ah yes, the hoe-turned-seeming-housewife who’s actually still hoeing. The village bike. The community top. Boston basically turns him out and he’s not only fine with it, he falls for the john. Delicious. I desire his ruin like I’ve desired nothing before in media.

7. Everybody we don’t know nothing about yet (Yo, Nam/Syrup, Nes, Lesbian!Nonnie, A Wild Papang, various and assorted surprise guests I’m pretty sure we’re getting)

Friends don't do this to each other.

Audience ranking: 1 (combined score)

We await the tea on all the side characters, but the casting is superb, and I’m ready to see how high in the rankings they can climb.

LET THE MESS COMMENCE!

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends series #only friends #bl meta series

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boo8008 · 9 months

Text

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 01: Quadriller

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Chapter Summery: Carmen arrives in New York, happy to get away from the disaster of one Berzatto Family Christmas. You and carmen however both seem to be too nervous to talk to each other…for now.

Quadriller (v.) to make criss-cross lines on the surface of food, as part of food presentation

Word Count: 2,821

My Notes bb: I’m sorry its so late tonight but I kept going down rabbit holes on information about actual food journalism and I also noticed I have a habit of explaining a lot and putting in random details that I think are important or cool but again this is my first Fanfiction I'm actually sharing so feedback is welcome. I will tell you now that nothing much happens this chapter save for reader and Carmy being introduced, but I do have a plan on that front its just again I'm overthinking stuff lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

2019 (January)

Carmen:

It was peaceful in the kitchen as Donna cooked over the stove, flipping pancakes and frying bacon as she smoked. Carmen, Natalie, and Mikey were sitting at the table as they all joked and talked about something or another. Donna placed the food on the table and they all dug in, each getting a small stack of pancakes and some bacon. Carmen was looking up at Mikey as he poured the syrup, laughing at whatever he was saying.

As he looked down he was confused, written in syrup, “Fuck You Carmen” was on top of the pancakes.

Carmen looked up feeling panicked, only to see the fork stuck atop the plate of cannoli. He looked around to see the far end of the table flipped over and a car that had crashed through the front room. Mikey was yelling at his mom and a horn was blaring, not loud enough to cover the infinite sounds of a million timers going off behind him, along with a smoke alarm. When he turned around to make them stop all he saw was black billowing smoke coming from the kitchen.

Carmen jumped back to reality as the stewardess lightly shook him. Almost as soon as the plane lifted off the tarmac at Chicago O’Hare International Airport he was out like a light. He spent every second sense Christmas Eve beyond stressed and anxious. He was thankful Michelle and Stevie had agreed to let him come stay with them in New York after the new year.

He hoped they hadn't changed their mind as he crossed into the baggage claim area, only to be greeted by Michelle and Stevie, who was holding a sign saying “BEAR-zatto” with a poorly done drawing of what Carmen thinks is a bear. He chuckled at the gaudy neon pink and glittery sign, happy they went so far as to let him come, let alone pick him up and make a sign.

“Oh there he is, Carmen!” Michelle called, waving him over after finally seeing him. “We were starting to think you bailed on us. How are you? How was your flight? Everything go okay?” She asked, now hugging him before pulling back to look at his face.

“Good, yea, fine, the flight was-the flight was good I slept through most of it,” Carmen said, still hazy with sleep as he rubbed the side of his face.

“Glad to hear it! Beats our flight back. It felt like it was just crying babies and turbulence; couldn't sleep once,” Stevie chimed in, pulling Carm into an awkward side hug thanks to the just-barely-too-big-to-be-comfortable sign and Carmen’s duffle bag and backpack. An affirmative ‘hm’ was all Carmen could manage, unsure how to respond. Lucky for him, Michelle loves to talk and knew how to keep the conversation going.

“So which of these bags is yours?” she asked as the carousel began spinning and (somewhat violently) ejecting bags. “And how do you like your sign? Stevie’s friend made it; she's kinda like his family's Richie but a bit more-”

“Normal?” Stevie finished.

“Exactly, yea, she thinks of that type of shit a lot,” Michelle continued. “She thought it would be a cute thing I guess, said something about how helpful it would be to find us sense we’d stick out and more welcoming than that one.” She gestured in the direction Carmy came from, where he passed a sign with standard corporate text that read ‘WELCOME TO NEW YORK’ and a flat drawing of the city.

Carm was only half listening as Michelle raved on about how the girl did cutesy homemade things all the time and began to ponder why with Stevie, the two knowing the chatter didn’t really interest Carmy as more than background noise. He was on the lookout for his bag which held his prized knifes and chefs whites, just about everything else fit in his beat up duffle and backpack. He would have preferred to keep them with him at all times in an airport just to know they didn't get ruined or damaged in anyway during their transport. But he could also understand why the TSA would say to not bring knifes on a crowded, compact tube that floats in the sky. As soon as he spotted the black metallic cased bag carmen stepped and forward and grabbed it, checking the lock on the side as he stood next to his cousin.

“Jesus Carmen what do you have in there, fucking launch codes?” Michelle asked, seeing the overprotective suitcase.

“My knifes,” was all Carmen mumbled in response hoping it would do. Michelle just shook her head while Stevie nodded, both in disbelief at how weird he was about his tools.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Michelle began, turning to lead the trio out to their car. “She's nice, and she's making us dinner tonight so don't be a dick. She's not a chef but god damn does she make a good baked chicken parm.”

You:

Waking up already today felt nervous. You only had work and dinner with Stevie and Michelle and whoever-the-fuck that you couldn’t remember the name of right now but the thought of work was mixing with it. Having to meet new people was one thing that you saw as dreadful and anxiety inducing; who else could you need to talk to outside of work besides Stevie and Michelle? And having to schedule and deal with interviews with busy high end chefs was another thing. A thing where the problem mostly came when you tried to get things explained in simpler terms than the hoity-toity French or Italian words they chose. Sure you knew what quadriller was but not everyone knew what it meant.

You could understand where they were coming from though in some cases. Mainly the Michelin star worthy ones who put so much pressure on themselves and the chefs under them to deliver perfection for an expensive dish made with the best ingredients. From what you could tell they mainly did it for the people that truly and deeply loved and enjoyed food and would save up to eat at such high end restaurants. It all led to them feeling drained at the end of the day, when the last thing they wanted to do was to explain something they knew so well they’d forgotten it was a name for something.

Luckily today all you had to do was schedule and write a few more paragraphs on your Top Food Trends of 2018 article for your editor to see. You were still working on it and it needed a better name but that wasn't a priority right now, it was mainly getting the bulk of it done and written in words that were more than bullet points and shortened words. And you got off early enough that you had time to run home and hop through the shower before headed to the grocery store on your way to Stevie and Michelle’s. It was the first meal for the new year of your bi-weekly dinners and you knew they probably didn't have much to cook with sense getting back from their Chicago Christmas Trip. Normally Michelle would have stories about someone named Donna doing something crazy and while it was a little funny, when you gave it a seconds thought it made you sad for her family and her that she ended up the way she did. It was something you gotten drunk and emotional talking about with her and she could see your point but that's as much as you could remember of that conversation, besides asking her what the fuck seven fishes had to do with Christmas.

You picked up all the ingredients you would need for chicken parmesan, garlic bread and a tub of gelato, Michelle always had some wine that would go perfectly with whatever pasta so you didn't worry about that. Hopefully the sign you made had gotten Michelle’s cousin’s attention and gotten them out of the airport in a timely manner before traffic hit so you could get a start on dinner as soon as you got there. They had given you a key a year ago so you could get in and start on dinner on days when they were running late, which was often, but you didn't mind as long as you got your fill on non-work related human interaction for the next two weeks.

As you brought in your load of groceries, you saw you were right as far as the low-stocked kitchen. You connected to their bluetooth speakers and started a podcast you'd been meaning to catch up on and got to work. You'd comment on some parts to yourself and got lost in thought on the topic they were discussing and in no time you were putting almost everything in the oven, the bread could wait until 8 minuets before so it was al ready at the same time and the gelato was already in the freezer.

It all seemed perfectly timed as your podcast ended and you were about to start another episode as you heard the front door open.

“God it smells so good!” you could hear Michelle call from the front door. You heard Stevie talking to someone and the sound of suitcase wheels and baggage moving through the front door. Michelle rounded the corner still in her coat and pulled you into a hug. “How are you? How was your week?”

“Fine, not a lot happening in the office so…” you trailed off as you hugged her back. “Got off early enough to shower before I got here.” She pulled back, finally taking off her coat as she headed towards the wine cabinet and Stevie rounded the corner with a beat up duffle bag slung over his shoulder and the neon pink sign you made.

“Hey,” he greeted happily, followed by your name and as best a wave he could manage with a heavy duffle bag on him. “Let me put these down in the guest room and we’ll come actually say hi.” He jet pass the kitchen eager to get the bag off his shoulder and get his coat off and was quickly followed by the third person you still couldn't remember the name of. Cameron? Cory? Conner? Either way he gave you a vague nod of acknowledgement as he rushed pass you seemingly faster than Stevie. He had on a thick wool coat and a baseball cap, but besides that you didn't get a good look at him.

“So should we do the chianti or the pinot noir?” Michelle asked using her mocking tone on the fancy words, bringing your attention back to her as she held up the two bottles.

“Chianti,” you chose. “I like the label more, its prettier.”

“That's one way to choose wine.” she said. She came back over to your side and pulled out the bottle opener as you grabbed the glasses. “Also I'm apologizing now if Carmen’s an asshole about dinner but it runs in the family.”

“Its cool, can’t be worse than Stephen…or you.”

“Oh fuck off,” she said with a smile, pouring the wine. “Who was he again?”

“The guy who wanted to be a ‘chef’ and narrated the whole time I made dinner and couldn't tell me what was wrong with the food besides ‘you just didn't do it right’,” you mocked his dumb voice as you remembered the date. “I mean I know I’m no Gordon Ramsey but I know what I’m doing in general.”

“Right that guy, Jesus your taste in people sucks,” she smiled as she slid the glass to you.

“Yea yea,” you said, taking a sip of your wine as you looked at the timer on the oven and went to put the bread in the oven. “I’d rather have actual input from someone than that shit though.”

“What shit?” Stevie asked walking back into the kitchen, finally relieved of the duffle.

“Vague shit,” Michelle said, vaguely.

“The best kind of shit,” Stevie pulled you into a hug as he finally said a proper hello to you. He turned some to the guy who entered earlier, Carmen you now knew. “This is Carmen, he's a chef, the one I was telling you about with the Noma and stuff.”

“Right, yea, hi,” you greeted, introducing yourself even though Stevie just did it for you, you'd cringe about it later. This is why you don't like meeting new people.

“Hi, your-your the journalist right?” Carmen stuck his hand out to shake yours, and now that he was right in front of you you got a good look at him. Crystalline blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was all mess and curls, he looked tired and anxious. Even his clothing said so; a long sleeve white shirt pushed up to his elbows and jeans both of which seemed rumpled from the flight. You did take note of his tattoos, a snail on his forearm, and a Pyrex measuring cup with the world on the other, you saw on the hand shaking yours the SOU on his fingers.

“Yea food and stuff,” you said, bringing your attention back to his face. All around he was handsome but you could sense the same nerves you had on him. It was a relief when Stevie came back from putting his coat away asking how your Christmas was, saving you both from an awkward conversation.

“Not bad,” you responded. “My parents went to Arkansas for family or whatever and said their sending me some stuff and I got to buy myself a nice dress and no one bothered me over the holiday, an all round a success in my book.”

Just then the oven went off, and you took up Carmen's mumbled offer to get the heavier pan with the chicken and pasta while you grabbed the bread and plates, deciding to come back for the utensils and cheese. Michelle took charge of hers and Carmen's glasses sitting them across from each other as Stevie took his own and the bottle. You had to admit, it felt nice with everyone helping. You came back to the table before realizing you left you own glass, and that you would be sitting next to Carmen and would definitely need it to talk to the stranger.

Finally returning and looking to the table before sitting down you did one last check that everything was there; napkins, plates, forks all checked. The other three were already digging in as Michelle whispered something to carmen that sounded a lot like ‘don't be a dick’. You took one last second and turned on a relaxing playlist for the meal on a low volume and sat down.

“So,” you started. “How was your guys’s Christmas?”

“Shitty.”

“Awful.”

Stevie just frowned and shook his head in response as the other two responded in unison.

“That bad, huh?” you asked, finally serving yourself. Michelle avoided by chugging her wine and Carmen did the same by stuffing his mouth.

“I think its better if we don't talk about it,” Stevie said breaking the silence.

The rest of the meal passed well enough though and everyone seemed to like the gelato with the meal. Carmen didn't talk much, too stuck in his own head thinking about how he had to start looking for a job ASAP. What didn't help were the thoughts of how pretty you looked when he walked in, and especially now that he was closer seated next to you. Your hair and dress styled perfectly with some better suited shoes for the slippery winter weather outside. He quickly talked himself out of pursuing anything with you though, having the small bit of sense to not bring you into his fucked up personal life full of anxiety and stress and pepto. He didn't even know what to say to you now. How would he know what to say on a date? He knew you knew something about food but wasn't sure what exactly it was you knew. What if it was just something to pay the bills and you didn't actually like being a journalist on food? There were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable with anything other than small agreements and answers that were as short as possible whenever he was asked something, and he noticed you doing the same thing.

You did your best to not be awkward with Carmen but you both had a wall put up to keep the newcomer out. If it weren't for Stevie and Michelle talking about their plane rides and new years eve stories your pretty sure it would be silent between the two of you. They tried to get you both involved but it was clear enough that wasn't going to happen… not tonight at least.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

Note

Hi again! Still absolutely adore your Kid fic from your last event 💜 Never got around to asking for a Sanji one, so here I am again😅 But seriously, congrats on over 550 followers!! Love seeing your blog grow, cause you’re really talented and deserve them all and legit can’t wait til you hit 1k+ 🥰

For the event order, may I please ask for a #1 with my boi Sanji, with anmitsu, konpeito, and keylime pie and with honey, please? 🥹 i hate this but need some sanji angst 😭

I also dunno if these three would work particularly well together for a prompt, so you can choose whatever! just really feeling angst and sanji rn and maybe comfort if you’d like 🥰

Thank you for all your works you’ve done so far 💜💜

hiiii omg haha i loved that fic fr (i'm obsessed w that man!!!) also ily for requesting sanji i don't write him nearly enough 🥰️ but thank you sm!! 😭 making me all soft and i am so so sorry this took forever, as u know i am so slow but!!! i had fun tormenting sanji w the angst ngl 💓💓💓💓 also those were great choices for the prompt, i wanted to write more but it would've been 8k words before i finished and who has time for that (i do, but listen... that's besides the point) ✨

2k words, fem reader (honestly gn too now that i think abt it), sfw (SHOCKING i know), 18+ mdni, a lil bit suggestive but nothing wild, angst angst angst city babey, fluff if you squint, also i gave u comfort bc u deserve it bb 💗(and sanji does too); feat. sanji being in denial forever and ever, mutual pining, fake unrequited love, reader is determined and sanji is a coward; also i made myself sad writing this but a good sad bc sanji deserves happiness and i'll fight oda if he doesn't get it i s2g... (if u see grammar mistakes/spelling errors... no u didn't 💗)

“loving each other began this way: threading / loneliness into loneliness / patiently, our hands trembling and precise.” — yehuda amichai

STEP 01:

what does it take to kill a soul? —

a question that’s posed unironically, without a hint of remorse or tact, the words precise and venomous, slicing through the thick veneer that he’s carefully crafted. he’s never been able to answer that question — not at six years old, not twelve or fifteen, and not at twenty-one. his siblings took pleasure in taunting him with seemingly philosophical questions, ones that clamped down onto his thoughts with heavy shackles.

even after he’s extracted himself from that life, he can’t scrub those memories from his mind — no matter how hard he tries. they sit, still raw and bloody, giving rise to unpleasant emotions that make his stomach churn from so many things left unsaid. he never set out to be a pirate, but piracy has given him the sort of freedom that he could only wish for as a child.

it’s with tender hands, with nimble yet graceful fingers, and with a fastidiousness that puts him in a category of his own, that he creates and creates and creates —

he’s told he’s an artist, which only pushes him to work harder, to be better. and when he asks himself why, he doesn’t have an answer. or, rather, the answer he does have only serves as a punishing reminder that he’ll never be good enough. no matter how many times his crew mates thank him — their emphatic, genuine praise a soft, warm breeze against his heart, gentle caresses that he commits to memory — despair still manages to infiltrate, a darkness choking out what little light he has left inside of him.

STEP 02:

how far are you willing to go to reach the truth? —

when you join the crew, he’s unnerved by your presence, which is wholly unlike him. usually, he’s able to put on his façade of the flirtatious cook, one that’s jovial and sociable, that lives to serve and please those around him. his first conversation with you ends in disaster; he spills the drink he tried to pour for you, despite your insistence that you are perfectly capable of pouring your own drink — and he knows it’s not out of malice, but it cuts into him all the same.

he tries again and again, bringing you little treats that you only agree to eating if he sits and eats with you; confusion eats away at his mind, and when he opens his mouth to decline, you pat the seat next to you and he acquiesces. he sits stiffly, at first, unsure of why he always feels on edge around you — an irritating need to impress you in a way he’s never wanted to for others grows stronger by the day.

you think it’s cute that he always seems flustered around you — that he stumbles over his words, refuses to hold eye contact with you for longer than thirty seconds — you also think it’s cute that the false bravado that he puts on for the world, diminishes immediately the second you come close to him. if he’s skittish, it’s because you always catch him staring at you; despite his quick reflexes, his reactions around you are slow but pure — childish, almost.

lately he’s clumsier and scatterbrained, nearly burning dinner when you decide to keep him company. you lean against the countertop, a teasing smile on your face — the same one that that caused him to bump his forehead against the cabinet door earlier — as you prattle on about a dream you had. he can barely keep up, his eyes drifting from the skillet to your face, gliding around the curve of your cheek, dipping lower in a slow descent along your neck.

he blinks repeatedly when he reaches your clavicle, stunned at his restraint; and it’s only when you call his name loudly that he realizes he’s left the heat on for too long.

“are you okay?” you ask when you see that he’s fussing over how best to save the dish, mouth moving as he quietly mutters to himself. he barely registers your voice, as an insidious one whispers harshly into his ears about his perpetual incompetence and lack of talent.

you can see that he’s retreated even further into his mind, a feat that also leaves you frustrated. you want to shake him but refrain and grab his hand instead. he snaps out of whatever stupor that held him captive just moments ago, lips parting as he sighs softly before glancing down at you.

“thank you.”

the words are quiet, but impactful, as he didn’t think he’d be able to get them out. you let go of his hand too soon, but he doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on cooking than embarrassing himself again in front of you.

you take his silence as a silent dismissal, but you don’t fight him on it — it’s bitter, that sort of rejection, and you swallow back your argument with great difficulty.

STEP 03:

what’s the difference between cowardice and self-preservation? —

frustration bubbles underneath his skin when he can’t find where he placed his lighter; he runs a hand through his hair and tugs on impulse, accidentally ripping a few strands from his scalp. they swirl and tumble onto the ground, pathetic in a way — just like me, but he never really says that out loud. he doesn’t hear your footsteps, although you did your best to remain as quiet as possible.

a cigarette sits in between his lips, and he has half a mind to toss it over the railing of the ship, but a warmth suddenly appears in front of him in the form of a flame. you found his lighter on the floor earlier and meant to give it to him, but every time you got closer, he found every excuse to leave. you don’t realize the impact you have on him — not really, anyway — because he’s genuinely surprised that you can’t hear the heavy beats of his heart that grow more intolerable the longer he hangs around you.

always afraid of being found out, he opts to keep his distance. it’s easier this way, he tells himself, better. but he doesn’t quite believe that; the evidence is plain as day when his tongue feels like its grown three sizes in the span of seconds, where his words get lost and forgotten. it’s all your fault, he reasons; you who insists on talking candidly with him, who insists on listening to him ramble about his dreams, who absolutely insists on stubbornly tearing down his walls, steadily chipping away without a care in the world. he looks at you as if you are the source of all his problems, but he also looks at you as if you’re the solution.

the intensity behind his stare makes your hands tremble slightly, it’s a miracle you’ve managed to keep yourself composed for this long. you light the end of his cigarette with ease, as if you’ve done this for him hundreds of times —and place the lighter into his pants pocket afterwards. if he wasn’t so used to you getting in his personal space all the time, he’d retreat immediately. the proximity is almost too much for him, but he doesn’t step back; you take that as a good sign and keep him company for a few minutes.

you don’t care for the smell of smoke, but on him it smells good. you almost tell him that, but instead bite down on your lip and keep your comment at bay, nerves getting the best of you as you nearly choke on the possibility that your feelings won’t be reciprocated.

another time, maybe. cheeks flushed, you turn your face to look elsewhere. although, you wonder if there ever will be another time. with him, you never know.

he’s still trying to figure you out and why he feels a different sort of calm around you; it’s alarming and new, drumming up an irrational fear within him. he doesn’t think he’s deserving of your attention or affection, and he’s convinced himself that you don’t harbor any romantic feelings for him. and why would you?

one by one, his thoughts pummel into him, acerbic and overwhelming. he exhales a sliver of smoke and puts the cigarette out. he gives you a quick, apologetic look before telling you goodnight, the smile on his face is melancholic and barely existent. you don’t dare say a word, keep your lips pressed together stubbornly; exasperated and dejected, you don’t know what’s worse — his inability to lower his guard around you for longer than ten minutes, or your inability to stop yourself from trying to carve pieces of yourself to give to him.

maybe if you helped him fill the gaping holes in his heart, he’d truly understand how you feel.

STEP 04:

if you had to do it all over again, would you do anything differently? —

sleep evades you after that night, and the night after that, and so forth; it gets so bad that you’re yawning in the middle of the day, falling asleep before you can have a cup of coffee or tea. this does not go unnoticed by the others, and after talking with nami, you feel less out of your element and finally can see the parts of sanji that he wants to keep hidden. her advice is simple: approach slowly and with intent; corner him and don’t let him escape.

you bide your time, full confident that you can find a moment to sit down with him and talk this all out. it doesn’t come easy, but franky mysteriously swaps sanji for the night’s watch — something that should strike you as odd, but it’s a small opening that you take without thinking as you hurriedly climb up to the crow’s nest with a renewed sort of energy.

even with his eyes closed, as he sits lazily on the bench with head tilted back against the wall, he knows it’s you.

“go back to bed,” he says firmly, refusing to look at you.

your stubbornness, unfortunately, wins out. “i’m staying.” at that he sits up, his attention completely on you as his eyes widen at your words. he wants to ask you why, but cowardice wins out — again. as his features soften, a flush crawls along his face, lightly painting his cheeks pink. he closes his eyes again, tries to steady his breathing as he counts backwards, only for his efforts to be obliterated with ease the moment you sit next to him.

as your thigh presses against his, you take his hand and on impulse you trace your fingertip along the lines on his palm. he watches you with a morbid fascination that scares him; but then you start to say things like, “you will live a very long life,” and “you are courageous, and you have a big heart.”

a small part of him wants to pull his hand away, so you won’t say anything else — but he remains put, so still that you almost think he’s stopped breathing. your voice is sweet and disarming, even when you carry on this charade of reading his palm. a belated realization hits him forcefully, making him blink several times; it dawns on him that you’ve always been so kind and gentle with him, even when you teased him. he’s spent all this time overthinking and hiding behind his past, that it never occurred to him that he could have simply let you in. you’ve never given him reason to believe that you’d betray or harm him intentionally.

he takes a deep breath, voice a little uneven, “i—”

you lean in close, adoration dripping onto your words as you interrupt him. “hey, have i told you?” the question glides along his skin, the words seeping into him as you continue, the lilt in your voice a honeyed, melodic spell. “you remind me of starlight and the mysteries of space.” your lips brush against his when you tell him that, and a warmth settles into the middle of his chest, makes it hard to focus. he doesn’t think when he curls his fingers around yours and doesn’t think when heleans down to kiss you — tender yet electrifying all the same.

the move disarms you in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, so you simply hum in approval and lean your head against his shoulder. a comfortable silence settles around you both, but you don’t mind that at all; it’s nice, not having to tip-toe around him anymore, and the demons that plagued him for so long don’t seem so intimidating with you by his side.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece angst #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji angst #sanji fluff #i love sanji a normal amt as u can tell

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tenmadontyouknow · 4 months

Text

IT'S THE TENMASTER, BACK AT IT AGAIN !!

Hello, hello, and welcome to my horrible blog !!

The name's Tenma Romero, but just call me Tenma !! [or the TENMASTER !!!]

Just realized that y'might wanna see a picture, so here I am!

// card template by @peachiehambo

Here are some things to know about me:

I'm 15 years old. I'm also gay, trans, and asexual, and I use he/they pronouns.

I go to Blueberry Academy, if you couldn't already tell. I'm also part of the music club there, since I play piano and guitar !! I'm also part of the theatre club >:D

I'm mostly a normal-type specialist, but my main battle team has a few exceptions. I'm like a pseudo-Elite 4 member !!

I'm part Unovan, part Paldean, all disaster. I am INSUFFERABLE. [sometimes. okay well most of the time. teehee]

I'm very normal about normal types. You see what I did there? No? Whatever. My absolute favorite has to be Dunsparce !! It's AMAZING.

Oh, and before I forget: here's my battle team !!! Feel free to send asks my way !! >:DDD

I also have a Porygon named David !! He'll come and post some things on here. Be nice to him !! >:O

And I'm RAY!!!

The name? Rei Yoshida, but call me Ray! I use Tenma's blog sometimes!!

I use he/him, I'm a gay demiboy, and I'm also 15!

Like Tenma, I also go to BB Academy, and I'm in the league, music, and track clubs!!

I'm a flying-type specialist who loves GREEN!!!! Kinda like Tenma with the color blue and his normal types!

I'm Hoennian-Unovan!! I'm from Unova, but my Flygon was my dad's from Hoenn!!!

I post on @flygon-is-birds now !!!!! :)))

//ooc under cut

// Hey!!! It's Mod Hugh again, the guy behind @bbleague-crispin and @uva-academy-vio !!!! Tenma was an oc that came to me in a vision last night. he is everything to me. /hj

He's somewhat of a self-insert, but he's different enough to distinguish from me, so I'll have fun with this blog dsjuhfeuf

no anon hate just like the crispin blog, we're just here to have fun !! i WILL announce when it's acceptable, though.

don't spam like PLEASE. it is overwhelming.

pelipper mail on, magic anons and pelipper malice off, you know the drill by now.

basic dni + no nsfw interactions, as tenma and i are both minors. no proshippers either.

that's all, have fun !!! :DD

#tenma talks #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #rotomblr #pokeblogging #real pokemon #pokemon unreality #pokemon oc #blueberry academy

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peacefulatom · 20 days

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Wikipedia has sources. Thats what the little numbers are beside the factual information. Maybe you should take all the information you've learned about Chernobyl and write a post about it. I would like to say that one book written by a biased person in Cold War Russia is not gonna cut it as a primary source bb

I do know how to use Wikipedia, yes, thank you. And I'd love to make a post, but "all the information I've learnt" is far too broad of a topic for one post; it would make much more sense to answer questions as they come, so if you have a specific question, feel free to ask! I have plenty of sources other than "one book". Since you're anonymous, and don't specify, I'm not sure what you're referring to, but if you need sources on anything in specific, please, send in another ask. As for the reliability of "How it Was" (as I assume that is the book you are referring to), it is of course, important to recognize that Dyatlov is biased. But, it is also an incredibly valuable source. Dyatlov is highly intelligent, qualified, and unique as one of the only people present at the ChNPP to write a book on the disaster. So I wouldn't be so hasty as to throw out his book entirely.

Of course, everything written ever will always be biased; this is one of the curses of humanity. If you remove sources from the cut based on a clause of bias, you would have no sources left... which, seems counter productive, no? Instead, we should interrogate all sources critically, and recognize that they have bias, while still valuing them for what makes them important!

Not only that, but I don’t take his words at face value. He indicates where corroboration and substantiation for his claims lay, and even without his help, I’ve found my own commonalities between his work and more Western ones. Hope this helps. Please send in a follow-up, I'd love to continue this discussion. And as a side note, don't call me "bb"... I don't know you, and like to keep a certain level of distance between me and other users online. Thanks!

#Chernobyl.#Chernobyl-related.#Asker: Anonymous.#Ask

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itsmaybitheway · 3 months

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Hi my loves!!!! As someone who has almost 10+ WiPs and over 30 ideas in her list, I was over the moon when @magicandarchery @wordsofhoneydew and @getmehighonmagic tagged me on a WiP game!!!

Not all of my WiPs are outlined, so I can only share snippets or favorite lines from them but feel free to ask about any one that might intrigue you or any other future plans I have!!! 💞💞💞💞

1. All The Fics Lead Back To You : This is a WiP I’m currently posting. It is actually complete (between you and me I’m adding a bit more to the 10th Chapter and posting a bonus 11th Chapter) , but only the 6/10 of it is posted on AO3. It’s about Alex reading fanfiction about himself and Henry and going down a rabbit hole of fandom and sexual crisis!!

2. Written In Love: The newest addition to my What-If series !! What would happen if Alex found Henry’s journal the first night he stayed at Kensington!! (Now posted here!)

3. Twitter Fail AU (name TBD): Alex as the disaster he is, comes to term with his bisexuality pretty early on, (pre-Cakegate one might say) and starts running a Prince Henry stan account. Nothing can go wrong right?

4. Roommates AU (name TBD): Alex is straight. He is straight and happy. So why the fuck he’s losing his mind over his roommate/best friend Henry’s sex injury?

5. Verse-Change (name TBD): On the night of the Royal Wedding, in order to distract himself Book-verse Alex watches a movie. What in the multiverse hell?

6. Soulmate Mpreg AU (name TBD): Soulmates are things of legends. Legends call them halves. One half of a soul, and when they do find each other. They posses the power to will anything into existence.

7. A/O/B verse Fake Dating (name TBD): Alex’s first filibuster was at SeaWorld. His latest one? During the Royal Wedding when he attacks someone for talking down on Henry for being an Omega. After they take a tumble into the cake, the Crown and the White House are forced to announce they are bonded to explain it.

8. The Most Special Gift (name TBD): Another What-If where Henry gives Alex the most thoughtful gift for his birthday. He can’t be blaming for blurting out he loves Henry can he?

9. New Year Canon Divergent AU (name TBD): And yet another What-If where Nora sends Alex into an early sexuality crisis and Alex has a panic attack right before midnight with Henry by his side.

10. Neighbors AU (name TBD): Henry is being tested by his new neighbor who seems to- Well… waterboard the poor piano instead of writing it.

Before I start tagging please send prayers and muse and inspiration and STRENGTH my way because I have the BB fic to write on top of these!!!

Anyone who sees this if I ADHD-ed and forgot to tag you and if you participate tag me I wanna read what you guys are cooking!! And a few tags with no pressure attached <3<3<3 @affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @anchoredarchangel @bitbybitwrites @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @i-am-freyja @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @msmarvelouswinchester @ninzied @orchidscript @priincebutt @suseagull04 @sherryvalli @songliili @three-drink-amy @theprinceandagcd @zwiazdziarka

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