#maybe you could write a poem about it yourself :)
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winning arguments without crying
Three years ago I liked you and now I think you’re hideous
That’s really all it is.
Crumbling stone above your sink in a houseshare bathroom that feels like an aeroplane toilet.
A corona of snakes that couldn’t be saved by a beautiful tragedy.
You have to train them, you see
To bite beautifully and in a tragic sort of way
A literary way
You can’t just wash your red hair and let it dry like that.
I would know.
Mine are revered
and I think people are afraid of them
but in a beautiful sort of way.
That’s another story that I’m trying to write
and I wish I could block you from the pages like I’ll block you on Instagram.
I think you’re hideous
A gradual
and then very sudden descent into a cramping hatred like the way you think hot weather is just fantastic and I think the sun is fucking obnoxious
Like you
A loudly epic microcosm
A study in how to learn to hate a stranger measured by unprecedented times and a handful of afternoons eating
blue cheese and crackers on London grass waiting for the time to pass
If nobody likes you and everybody likes me then does that make me awful too?
or does it just mean I’m right
You glittered like a mirror for a morning
our sisterly reflections in mourning
A summer snapshot from the lens I’m still in charge of
Now you’re a black hole or something worse probably
an empty shell pretending to be a whole person.
Boring boring boring
Everything about you is boring
I’m bored with how boring I find you
This poem is boring.
It’s boring to talk about you but I can’t stop
none of us can stop
we’re all awful.
You were a mirror and isn’t that funny considering how much you fucking love looking at yourself now
Is this fucking play about us?
as long as it’s all focused on you
Tell us to knock the f-stop back as far as we can until it’s just
The You Show
again
but you’ll say you hate the lens I’m standing behind.
Apparently it’s all so condescending of me but I think you just don’t understand what that word means and what you actually mean is I’m older than you and know how to win arguments?
What you actually mean is I can fight without shaking and my face doesn’t turn red when I’m angry?
and I’ve always thought that a very lucky trait to have
I think I probably got that from my dad
although he doesn’t really get angry.
I think you should write a poem about what you got from your dad
But you’ll never do that even if
it’s the easy pick to the door you say someone else bolted you behind screaming.
I unpicked mine when I was twenty and I’ll always shoot if someone slags off my closet
And you think you’re the gunmaster here
But that’s a totally separate conversation and I can’t be bothered having it with you so can we just move on
because you’re too narrow to get that.
The most caring person in the world until empathy starts unearthing your enemies
As if you don’t already have a thousand.
And none of it feels important anymore
so I’m embarrassed that I even care
but it’s not a caring sort of caring.
If you’re compelled by right and wrong I’m compelled by love and hate
I think that’s my coin and one day soon I’ll stop spending it on you
But for now I’m solvent
Even if I’m letting you steal from me
and your steel city state is richer than my ancient woodland but your vaults are beneath iron girders of fantastic and thanks so much and so it becomes a girlish and quietly-biting sort of coin that burns lips and makes everything taste like copper
mine is just a mist
and then you accuse me of being non-confrontational when actually I’ve always quite liked confrontation.
It’s something I’m good at
and yet you keep trying and honestly I find that mortifying
But you’re a child so I don’t even care.
Maybe I should swaddle you but you said you're wise beyond your years so I guess let’s go with that?
And if everyone hates you and nobody hates me then maybe you should go back to your mirror and look there
instead of at your front-facing camera
because that’s mortifying too
and you should’ve gone to university because you would’ve met other mirrors there
And at least I know I’m a bitch
I met my mirrors ages ago.
But you run from reflection and choose your front-facing camera instead
because it does that thing where it flips the image and you get to pretend that you’re the opposite thing to the thing you actually are
and you get to tell yourself that you’re so tiny
and the world is the Big Bad pecking at your nest.
But you’re the awful thing
And everything is backwards
And everything is mirrored to you
And if I saw myself in you then send me the invoice and finish your email with
thanks so much
for teaching me how to be something else because honestly if I became what you already are I think I’d just die
I can see you rolling your eyes on the playground because someone else was enjoying the swings but in a stupid way
and the tarmac was hotter in Germany but that doesn’t make you more interesting.
God I wish I could tell you that.
I told you once that sometimes I pretend I’m on Graham Norton when I’m in the car
I thought everyone did that but apparently they don’t
But that’s fine I think and you didn’t need to laugh about it with your fiancée
But she's left you too and I found that funny
So let’s call it even.
I dive headfirst into the oil
when it comes to you because it feels so hotly delicious
To nestle in the anonymous ranks of whatever armies you think you did nothing to provoke
You’ve got spears for crutches but your armour is accountancy note paper
With lecture notes too boring to comprehend
I don’t think you’re actually interested in investment risk and taxation or fraud analytics
Is anyone?
It’s just something else to put on your brown sash
and on your HER profile.
Tell them about how you’re on every battlefield and I’m just softly at home writing a stupid poem about you
And if you’re reading this now because you keep tabs on everyone
and everything
and if you were waiting for me
Don’t flatter yourself.
This isn’t about you.
Because I already don’t remember how old you are
but I think you get a notification when I post an Instagram story of myself as a child.
I have a pitchy black well of everything that you don’t have
and I throw myself into it and you screw your face up lime-sour when actually I think you’d love to build one for yourself
but you can’t stop looking at your Instagram followers for long enough to work out
How to cast bricks or divine water or whatever else you need to build a well
You don’t even have the land for it yet.
I’d rather write a stupid poem than be your blank piece of paper
I’d rather write myself as a villain than play your antagonist
Write me out of your boring story
I’m begging you.
It’s been a year and you’re still looking up how to spell my name
Between notes about investment management and derivatives
And I don’t even know what that means
Thank God.
God it’s so boring
But I’m laughing at the idea of one day forgetting your name.
I can be rotten but I think the thing that saves you from Hell is the welcoming of the rot
and if I can be this but also sleep with my friends and love my American cereal and the little squares of sun my mirrorballs cast to my blue walls
Then what does it matter
I don’t think it matters.
But you can’t be told about any of that
Because you’re too busy romancing your front-facing camera and
one-hundred-and-thirty-three people in fluorescent ceiling panels who won’t ever clap at a volume that fills you
So I’ll leave you waiting for your lean applause
And I’ll just be lighter.
I watched a video today of my niece on a ride-on lawnmower
Grinning with my dad in the field behind our house
and that was me twenty-two years ago.
God I love that I can love.
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I tried to write a novel. Not once. Not twice. But about 12 times. Here's how that would play out:
1. I sit down and knock out 10 pages
2. I share it with someone
3. They say "It's goooood" like it's not good
4. I ask for critical feedback
5. They say, "Well....the plot just moves so quickly. So much happens in the first few pages it doesn't feel natural."
So I'd write more drafts. I'd try to stretch out the story. I would add dialogue that I tried to make interesting but thought was boring. I would try including environment and character descriptions that felt unnecessary, (why not just let people imagine what they want?)
Anyways, I gave up trying to write because in my mind, I wasn't a fiction writer. Maybe I could write a phonebook or something.
But then I made a fiction podcast, and I waited for the same feedback about the fast moving plot, but guess what???
Podcasts aren't novels. The thing that made my novels suck became one of the things that made Desert Skies work. I've received some criticism since the show started, but one thing I don't receive regular complaints about is being overly-descriptive or longwinded.
In fact, the opposite. It moves fast enough that it keeps peoples attention.
I always felt I had a knack for telling stories but spent years beating myself up because I couldn't put those stories into novel form. The problem wasn't me. The problem was the tool I was trying to use.
All that to say:
If, in your innermost parts you may know that you're a storyteller but you just can't write a book, don't give up right away. You can always do things to get better and there's a lot of good resources.
But if you do that for a while and novel writing just isn't your thing, try making a podcast, or creating a comic, or a poem, or a play, or a tv script.
You might know you're an artist but suck at painting. Try making a glass mosaic, or miniatures, or try charcoal portraits, or embroider or collage.
You might know you're a singer, but opera just isn't working out. Why not yodel?
I could keep listing out examples, but the point is this. Trust your intuitions when it comes to your creative abilities, but don't inhibit yourself by becoming dogmatic about which medium you can use to express that creativity.
Don't be afraid to try something new. Don't be afraid to make something new. You might just find the art form that fits the gift you knew you always had, and what it is might surprise you
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she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let
and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment
and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.
and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment
and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?
to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.
and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.
you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.
#this btw is not including toxic friendships this is legit just something ive experienced MANY times now#writeblr#you ever have a friend in one of those relationships where ur like#u don't HATE their partner explicitly#but ur like. what the fuck y'all#like the weird part of being an adult is that you can't be like . CERTAIN their relationship is toxic#and also if u move too fast or push too hard u can hurt someone who is already in a scary situation so you just are like#frozen there. laughing awkwardly. saying ''haha..... yeah..... couldn't be me....''#and like u can't tell - is this banter or does he actually think like. he's better than her.#all you can do is be there for your friend and hope they wake up to it#or ... that it really IS good#and it's just odd to you#tbh btw id rather have my friends feel safe coming to me if they have a concern about my relationship#like yes it's not ur business but it also IS bc im making u hang out with them and also ur my friend#it's a weird thing to experience as an adult bc it is such a blurry line and when u spend time#around couples that aren't like ACTUALLY ur friends but instead ''extended friend circle'' ur like#.... i don't know y'all well enough and he just called you a cow. and ur okay with that . and i don't know how to respond.#so ur like :) okay. um. go to couple's counselling i think#but also you are NOT supposed to pass judgement so it's like.... this weird limbo of feeling like you SHOULD say something#but knowing you CANNOT#idk that there's a way to resolve it!!!!!!!! it's probably a different approach person to person#edited my tags bc tumblr's new system fucked em up#PS EDIT: btw i should have said:#the pronouns in this can work in any and every direction. every gender and every sexuality and every#type of relationship tbh. even non-romantic relationships where ur like ''what do u mean ur bff calls u stupid''
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Distraction | Xavier T.
warnings ✩° : mutual pining, angry(?) confession, teasing, competition, cursing, rivals to lovers, both reader and xavier are 17-18 years old, fluff but also a tad spice.
pairing ✩° : xavier thorpe x fem!reader
premise ✩° : on the day of the annual poe cup, you're put against your academic rival, xavier thorpe, and you don't want to lose. however, he has other plans of getting the upper hand with you and knows exactly how to get his way. hes knocking out two birds with one stone, if you will.
word count ✩° : 3.4k
authors note ✩° : this was done in literally a few hours bc i’m obsessed and it needs to be addressed.
The rules were simple.
They always have been. Follow what the people in charge told you and don't disappoint. If you disappoint them then you disappoint the whole community and what good are you if you're a disappointment. It was hard not to see school, ground zero for being the best, as a competition. In fact, you thrived working towards a goal of being superior than everyone else; maybe it was due to the fact that no matter what was put in front of you, you could understand it and write it off as done as soon as you wrote your name. However, there were some things you didn't get at times and that frustrated you.
Over the time you’ve known him, it’s been test after test, assignment after assignment, obscure experiment after obscure experiment to prove to this seemingly effortlessly perfect creature that you’re better than him, only for you to miss his mark by one. point.
“Maybe you should think less about being better than me and more about the material, Y/n.” Xavier would say, “But don’t worry, you ALMOST got the same score as me.”
It wasn't his snarky comments or obviously stronger memory than you that made you over the top angry, no, it was the fact that you couldn't understand how he was doing it. Nothing made sense and the feeling of not knowing made looking into his stupid hazel eyes, gazing at his sharp and defined side profile, and wispy long hair all the more annoying. Everything has to have answers. So why did he make your throat tighten every time you spoke to him? Or your face flush with dark shades of pink and red? It had to be anger. There was no other explanation.
All of the rivalry would eventually lead you both up to the annual Poe Cup. A boat race amongst four teams, five members from each house all stuck together on their respective hand crafted boats each representing a different Edgar Allen Poe poem.
You're on The Black Cat team while Xavier’s on The Amontillado team. For a whole week you spend with your team, preparing for the race and to utterly destroy Xavier because this will finally prove to yourself that you’re good at him at something.
“You ready to beat the shit out of Xavier, Y/n?” Your friend who knows your rivalry with the guy smiles at you, “Once WE have that cup he has to realize that all he is to you, is dirt.” She was right.
“Relax, F/n, why ruin my chances with excitement when I can take all of that and shove it in his face at the very end.”
Your other team mate taps you both on your shoulders, “You guys ready? It’s almost time.” With that, you watch everyone file into their boats, Xavier included, and so you and your friend make your way into your own seats. However, just before you adjust your headband on your head, you decide to catch a glimpse of the destined losers on each side of you. Though no one else is important right now other than seeing him, so you give a side eyed glance in Xavier’s direction.
To your surprise, not only is he already looking at you, but, “Is he laughing at me?”
Your friend looks towards Xavier as well and scoffs, “Yeah,” She confirms, “Looks like they all are. Fucking clowns.”
As you chew on the inside of your cheek out of anger, a sudden whistle blows from Ms. Weems accompanied by a large megaphone that amplifies her voice as she speaks.
You can tell out of the corner of your eye that ever since your friend had rudely thrusted her middle finger into the sky for all the jesters to see, Xavier hadn't stopped looking at you. His eyes, laser focused, burned into the side of your head and it only made you more anxious for the race. You bite your lip ever so slightly and fight back the urge to look at him too.
Thankfully, you're saved by a gunshot that explodes into the air and suddenly your team gets pushed into the water.
Of all things, why should you be thinking about Xavier Thorpe and what he has to say or look at you for? All this time, you've convinced yourself that you could care less what he thinks of you. After all, the reason you're trying so hard to be better than him is the very reason that motivates you every day to get up and face him. Otherwise, you'd be locked away in your dorm with nothing to do but attend class and repeat the cycle. In a way, he was your reason to wake up.
“Y/N! Duck!” Your friend suddenly snaps you out of your mechanical like motions of rowing as hard as possible. Wasting no time, you dodge the flying axe coming your way by a hair. “What the hell?! Y/n, focus!”
“I am focused, F/n.”
“No, you're not. You got that lost look in your eyes. Stop thinking about Xavier and maybe pay attention to all the objects being thrown around at us? So you don't die, and most importantly, so we can win this for our hall?”
For the rest of the distance from the starting line to the other end of the lake, you try not to look behind you as looking behind you would only distract you from the prize. All of your team puts in their all in rowing as fast as they can together in sync, each arm pushing at the exact same second as everyone else to really glide through the water. Despite nets being tossed, siren students diving under boats and tipping them over, and very small fire crackers being thrown into other boats, three teams are left remaining to the next stage of the race. Getting the flag.
“Go go go!” F/n pushes you up, “Get the black flag. We’ll be waiting here to look out for anybody.”
Not wanting to waste anymore time, you nod and start sprinting directly into the old, creaky forest. Dry leaves crunch under your feet in threes, making their crinkles the only noise in the entire forest. That’s good, you think, that means no one else came yet. Quickly jumping over logs and rocks, you make your way to the flag destination, only to see that your black flag is missing.
“What the—”
“Hey,” a voice calls out from behind you, “Looking for something?”
The cheesy line doesn't go without an eye roll as you turn around, “Xavier.”
“You don't seem too happy to see me.” Your rival stands with a shit eating grin on his face, comically extenuated with crimson, drippy paint.
You're quick to reply, “I'm not. You took my flag which I need to win this. So hand it over, Thorpe.”
He raises his hands and allows you to charge up to him just close enough so that you're barely touching the tips of his pointed shoes with your jet black boots. “What? Who says I have your flag? I JUST got here in case you hadn't noticed.”
“I actually haven't noticed. Because why would I stop to care about where you are?”
“You seemed to care when we first started.” Xavier leans down and twists his head slightly, just enough for you to be caught off guard and step back, “I saw you looking at me.” His tone makes you shrink back.
Heat rushes to your face in a fleeting panic and almost immediately, your chest twists your rib cage hard enough to squeak out, “I WASN'T LOOKING AT YOU! YOU were looking at ME!”
Xavier raises his brows and chuckles, “I remember differently.”
Of course he has to be cocky now. “Look, Xavier. Just forget this and let me go. Your gross sweat is getting all over me.”
“Oh is that so?”
“YESNOWLETGO.”
He snickers at your flustered nature but decides to go the extra mile and tease you further, “You do realize that we all have to get back, Y/n, its kinda the whole reason why we made it here. Though it looks like its just the two of us.” He turns to both of his sides and then directs his attention back to you, “I’d say we have a little time.”
Again, you emphasize, “WE don't have time. Unlike you, I actually WANT to win. Xavier, I don't know what your deal is or why you're so obsessed with me and making me look like a complete and utter fool, but once I win this for my team, it ends. Do you understand me?”
Xavier exhales deeply, “You know, for someone who’s so high strung and smart, you're really dumb, aren't you?”
“What?”
He steps forward, causing you to back into a tree. You can feel the roughness of the tree bark as it etches its way across the backside of your suit, causing a mildly discomforting feeling that shivers throughout your skin. Before you can move forward, Xavier steps closer, basically eliminating any means of escaping.
“Why am I so obsessed with you? Is that what you think this is? Obsession?”
You look up at him to find his naturally tall stature hunched over to be at eye level with you. Surely, if anyone to walk into the scene, they’d think you two were stopping the competition just to make out. Even though Xavier’s hand is firmly pressed just between your ear and shoulder and he was just over an inch close to you so that your noses are barley touching, it’s not like that at all. Yet, at least.
“That’s what I just asked.” Your eyebrows stitch together bitterly, “Can you not hear, clown? You don’t understand how hard it is for me to watch my reputation die because of you and your perfect grades and your perfect art. What makes you think you can just parade yourself around to be better than me?!” The questions leave a burning sensation in your throat.
“Reputation? Grades? Is that what this is about?”
“YES! Are you DENSE?!”
Instead of matching your violent glower, you watch as the clown leans his head to the side in laughter. His lips parting just enough so you can see his sharp teeth laugh at you too, “Y/n, did you just call me dense? What is that? An insult? At least I’m not the one who always scores lower than me.”
Embarrassment? Anger? Nervousness? Why was his laugh the thing to make you feel weak now? Maybe the first two are theories, but the third is a definite fact. Your eyes are quickly drawn in by his hazel pupils, curious and dilated as they stare back at you. For a moment, the silence between you two isnt filled with hate or rivalry, but peace. That is until he lets out a breathy laugh after getting a good look at your calm face for once.
“Y/n, cat got your tongue? Or do you just not have anything else to say to me other than ‘I hate you’ and ‘stop being better than me’?” He points a finger to your feline head accessory.
"Shut up.” You bark, “Dumb isn’t really a good insult either. You are so full of shit—"
Xavier moves closer, now toe to toe with you and just a breath away from your face.
“God, Y/n, cant you see that I like you? All this time I thought it was so obvious. I mean, how are you going to tell people you're the smartest person in the room when you cant even pick up on subtle hints that basically spell it out for you?” He says, “Or are you too busy to notice anyone other than yourself?”
His words cause your heart to pound once, twice, and before you know it you can’t hear anything but the thumping in your chest and the soft winds surrounding you both. Xavier parts his lips again, determined to give you the answers you've been so desperately searching for.
“Do you know how fucking exhausting it is to pretend I hate you back, just to have the opportunity to talk to you?” His tone is exasperated and shallow, but he doesn't break eye contact with you, “You seriously thought all those times we got close was because I wanted to be ‘better’ than you in some subject?” Almost like he doesn't believe you, Xavier shakes his head in disapproval, “The only time Ive wanted to prove to you I'm worth something is now.”
His confession only fills your head with more questions, “That doesn't even make any sense! How can you say you didn't actually want to be better than me when that's all you did?” You feel the heat saturate into a dark pink that settles into your cheeks, “And why are you telling me all this now? Why are you so adamant on telling me that you—”
Xavier doesn't even acknowledge your questions, he just continues to hold a burning tension between you and him, focusing only on one thing.
Fuck.
Maybe its the fact hes so close, or that he told you hes liked you all this time, but right now it feels like nothings stopping you from telling him too. It just feels so right.
Before you know it, your mouth opens on its own, your bottom lip trembling for just a second. Xavier’s eyes trail down to your lips, then back into your eyes, and a small smirk pulls the corner of his ivory painted skin up.
Without another second to lose, Xavier tilts even closer than he thought he’d ever be to you and cups your cheek, finding the courage you both need to pull you into an unexpected kiss.
The pastiness of your rival’s white face paint rubs against your dewy skin as the taste of him spreads across your pallet, rough, warm, and agonizingly slow. With a gentle hand, you bunch the back of Xavier’s thin yet airy suit and fall into him, curving just enough so he can extend his hold on you.
Xavier knew that he wanted to touch you. It’s basically been his dream ever since he got close to you and seemingly hurdled himself into being your rival. But he’d never admit that. Or maybe, now he would. Gently, Xavier clasps onto your hips more carefully, securely rubbing his fingers against the skin tight latex uniform you were forced to wear which gives him enough grip to hook his desperate palms onto your body.
You break away for a second, just long enough to look at his face and how mesmerized he is by you and just how fucked you are in this downward spiral of messy feelings and requited love. Love you are much too afraid to commit to. But, Xavier pulls you back into his lips and makes you forget all of your worries, even the one you're supposed to be most worried about.
The kiss practically captures you for what seems like an eternity, erasing all memory of the Poe Cup and time spent hating Xavier's guts only to now realize that that hate may have been fueled by a painfully simple crush. But you wouldn't admit that either. Though, now there’s no other explanation to the methods behind your madness.
Soon enough, your hands find their rightful place in his long, messy hair, scooting his jester cap off easily. Had you known his hair was this soft before? You always told yourself you didn't care but now it was too hypnotizing not to twirl your fingers in. In fact, it’s practically asking you to grab it and play with it, screaming at you to touch it, touch him.
Xavier’s hips press into yours, giving you the go ahead to adjust your position so that your thigh is comfortably resting atop his hip. The stance feels too natural to be normal, and you're both caught off guard by it. Yet, you continue to taste him and feel him up close without another thought.
Nipping at your bottom lip, you can feel Xavier let out a sigh of relief, as if kissing you has been something on his mind for years. Only half of that could be true. Still, his victory cheer makes you do your own version with a quieter huff.
You give the roots of his hair a tight squeeze before your shoulders relax and another sigh escapes from your now open mouth. The force of his lips smashing against yours pushes you back successfully, leaving each part of your body to surrender to his. For once, you let it and as much as you hate to admit it, whatever he was doing was working.
When he finally pulls away, your breath is harsh and so is his. No matter how hard you could try, looking away from his hazy eyes was not an option. Just like the fog around you both, his gaze is inescapable and suffocating. You knew kissing your rival was a bad idea, but neither one of you want to move your hands from their proper places on each other.
Just then, a distant voice calls out to Xavier that snaps you out of your absentmindedness. “Shit,” Xavier curses softly against your lips, “Thanks for that Y/n,” he pulls away, much to your hidden displeasure, “But...I have a cup to win.”
Suddenly, it all comes hurdling back.
“FUCK! THE RACE!” You tear yourself away from Xavier, breaking the warmth between you both, and scramble to find your flag, “YOU CONNIVING SON OF A BITCH. YOU DISTRACTED ME!”
“I hope you don't mind but I actually sort of hid it.” He grins slyly at you, straightening his suit with a swift rub on his chest, “No rules, remember?” He pulls out a flag from behind him and snickers. Has he had that this entire time?
A flash of surging anger fumes inside of your chest, but Xavier just smiles. In his mind, it’s almost laughable how you fell for his devious yet successful confession slash plan. It was too good to pass up. And judging by the sour pout on your face, it worked!
“Y/n,” He chirps, “Was I a good distraction?” He can’t help but ask.
You avoid his gaze and turn your head to other possible directions your flag can be in, “You're the worst, Xavier.”
He runs a hand through his brown hair and smooths it down, “Right, right. You hate me. But I got you pretty good, didn’t I?” He picks up his jester cap and lazily smashes it onto the top of his head, “I'm gonna go, but, you should totally meet me in my dorm tonight? At 8?”
He makes his hasty exit before you can reply, leaving you breathless and weak in the knees—mostly tight fisted and furious, but still, weak in the knees.
“So, Y/n. Do you want to explain why you...left for so long..?” Your teammate asks, kind of scared to ask in the first place but confusion was eating her alive. How fitting.
Instead of answering, you reply with strong and swift robotic motions that quickly thunk your boat along the shore line, taking a good chunk out of the grass and soil. Unfortunately, half way through your synchronized rowing, some water kicked up into the boat and soaked your costume. You didn't care though. All you wanted was Xavier.
And his head on a stick.
Sounds of congratulatory cheers erupt from the crowd as Xavier and the rest of his jester-like teammates hold up the Poe Cup trophy together.
“Bitch.” Is all you can say when all your other teammates wash up next to you, sad, defeated, and soaked with murky lake water.
“Well get them next time, Y/n. Don’t be so hard on yourself!” Your friend smiles happily.
Yeah. Tonight.
#wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday fanfic#wednesday series#wednesday fic#wednesday xavier#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe x y/n#xavier thorpe fanfic#wednesday netflix#kaicubus
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♡ TO BE LOVED BY
characters. albedo zhongli diluc alhaitham x gn!reader
genre. romantic fluff + hurt/comfort. 1.6k words.
an. part 1 , part 2 coming soon!!!! | to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. ; reader is insecure + has low self esteem, and the men help them think otherwise. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D
the painter
to be loved by albedo, the painter — people realise that the faces that he paints every day seem to resemble one person and one person alone. the high cheekbones, the crooked smile, the monolids — its either the artist has a case of the same face syndrome, or there is only one source of inspiration for him . . .
albedo sits by his artistry room, the window tinting golden light that shines onto your features. it highlights parts of you that you dislike, you argue, but he tenderly kisses each spot that brings you distaste. if you cannot love yourself, then let him love you extra. if you cannot see yourself the way he looks at you – with all the love and admiration and sweet infatuation in the world – then let him paint you in the way he so lovingly sees you so.
he motions for you to tilt to your left with a flick of his finger, not looking up from the blended paints on his wooden palette. you freeze – you don’t want to make him unhappy by not complying but complying also means seeing the ugliness of you. you don’t want him to see you ugly.
“i don’t like that side of me,” you whisper blankly. “it doesn’t make me look good.”
it is at these few words that albedo looks up from his painting.
“you are beautiful.”
he says the three words so matter-of-factly that you wonder if he even means it at all. they are so quick to fall out of his mouth – does he love you too little to properly regard them so, or does he love you so much that it requires no hesitation on his end to reassure you?
“albedo, thank you, but i am not-”
“you are so beautiful, my love,” albedo repeats. “and it pains me so because you don’t seem to believe it for yourself.”
“i am not-” you blink back salty tears.
“do my words hold no weight to you?” he asks, not unkindly. there’s an awkward stare that the both of you share before he lets a soft sigh part his lips, and he gathers you in his arms.
you look at him tiredly. this was not the battle you wanted to fight today, you think to yourself.
“i am beautiful.” you repeat after him. maybe, just maybe – if you say it enough, you can believe it just as wholeheartedly as albedo believes so. you can see the corners of his lips turn upwards into a soft smile – your lover smooths back your hair, planting a sweet kiss in the middle of your forehead.
“i love you, my muse. it’s alright if you don’t believe it just yet. you’ll have me to remind you that you are beautiful, every day.”
the poet
to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.
“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.
“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”
“i trust the author.” you giggle.
“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.
you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet.
you are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.
“that’s beautiful. your writing is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.
“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”
the photographer
to be loved by diluc, the photographer — you are his model, day and night. he carries his camera when he can, and needless to say . . . more than three quarters of his camera roll is filled with pictures of you. they’re not perfect pictures, but they’re beautiful to him. and that is the only thing he cares about.
”diluc, don’t! i don’t look nice here.” you giggle as he, in a rare bout of unbridled playfulness, pretends to be your personal paparazzi.
“you look good in every photo, my love.” he chuckles, and runs you through the most recent photos he took.
it’s blurry. your cheeks look huge. your chin… “you look good” – was diluc blind, or lying?
you tighten your smile and turn back to your work, waving away thoughts that turn into jealous green monsters over others who would look good in his camera, no matter how imperfect their pose was.
“hey,” diluc sees the frown on your face. “i mean it. you look wonderful.”
“how?” you blink back frustrated tears.
“diluc, open your eyes. my eyes are uneven in this one. my cheeks look like a chipmunk’s. my chin.. i don’t even want to think about my chin. i don’t look good at all, diluc.”
he stays quiet for a moment, and you wonder if that was the right thing to say at all. maybe just keep quiet next time, (y/n). don’t insult his work – your insecurities are yours to hold alone, right? he tucks your hair away from your eyes and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“i urge you – look again, (y/n).”
“you didn’t edit anything, diluc.”
diluc thumbs away a stray tear as he cups your face – a betrayal to your plea to your body to keep quiet. just keep quiet, (y/n). your lover takes your shoulders and sits you down gently, kneeling next to you, camera in hand.
“you don’t look good, you say? interesting.” diluc has a placid smile on his face as he runs through his camera roll again – you are afraid of angering him, of doubting his craft – but how can you see those pictures and be immediately satisfied with what they are?
“why don’t you believe me? i’m the one who sees it.” you reply indignantly.
“i don’t believe so, not at all. you see it, but i see that you are smiling in each and every one of them, my love. you are happy and you are beautiful, my sun. undoubtedly so – for that is what the camera captures. is that not what matters the most?”
the writer
to be loved by alhaitham, the writer — people often wonder who sparks these passionate feelings of infatuation in his writing; all they need to look at is the person he leaves his gaze to linger on for a little while longer. his smile seems to brighten a little when he’s talking with you . . .
he describes a love scene so tenderly. a man and his partner, dancing in the stillness of a living room in the witching hours of the night – sweet, loving words fall clumsily out of the man’s mouth – it’s obvious he’s infatuated with his partner. two words, my angel, stands out in the manuscript you read.
“hayi, why do you never call me your angel? ever?” you ask, a slight pout on your face.
“because you are not a metaphor for me to use,” he counters, not unkindly. “you are not someone who i want to compare a mere object to.”
you see the slight disappointment in his face, and you hate yourself for it.
“maybe being compared to something would be better.” you reply softly.
“you are so much more than that,” he cradles your face in his palm, so gently it hurts.
you don’t deserve this gentleness, do you?
“who am i to take that away from you?”
the silence that follows seems louder than anything else you have ever heard. he sighs softly, not with frustration, but with a tenderness that only alhaitham can muster. he gathers you in his arms – he is so, so much bigger and taller than you – he never wants to crush you. never with his anger, nor his fear, or his hurt or his sadness.
“i’m sorry for always asking that. i don’t want to be annoying.” you murmur, blinking away tears.
“you will never be annoying to me, (y/n).” he exhales.
another quiet moment is shared between the two of you – it’s healing. the silence seems to nod to a shared understanding of a love that need not be said.
“i love you, (y/n), most magnificently so. and if it would take a lifetime for you to remember that, i would like to ask for a chance to spend that lifetime with you,” he whispers these words with a quiet fierceness, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.
taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @camvrin @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz @rin-nyrasti-writes @mxyarylla @starchivves (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)
just for this post: @dailypenpen
reblogs w/ tags & comments are highly appreciated !!! <3 every reblog with a tag or comment gets a cookie from me hehe
#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#astronetwrk#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin impact x gn reader#albedo x reader#albedo x gn reader#albedo fluff#zhongli x reader#zhongli x gn reader#zhongli fluff#diluc x reader#diluc x gn reader#diluc fluff#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x gn reader#alhaitham fluff#long post
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You're a bad idea.
Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader
Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.
Words: 1.3k
Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?
a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times. hope you enjoy!
You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.
You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.
Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.
More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.
Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.
She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.
The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?
So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.
Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?
God, she needed some sleep.
_________
You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.
You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.
"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.
You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.
You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.
Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.
You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.
You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.
The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.
"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.
You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.
"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.
You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.
Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.
You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.
_________
Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.
You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.
"What do you want from me?" you asked.
She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.
"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"
Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.
"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.
She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.
Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.
You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.
_________
You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.
"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.
You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.
You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.
Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.
You liked the solitude of it.
So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.
"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.
"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.
You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.
"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.
Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.
"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.
And she sounded so sure of it.
Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.
"So pretty…" she said.
Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.
"Fuck" she whimpered.
You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.
"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.
"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.
You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.
You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.
She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.
The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.
"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.
And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega x female reader#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#cairo sweet#cairo sweet x reader#cairo sweet x female reader#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x female reader#wednesday addams x fem!reader
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flurry of colours
synopsis: asking the genshin boyfriends what color they see you as
content: Alhaitham/Kazuha/Wriothesley x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Use of nickname darling/dove. Wrio is pretty short I wasn't entirely sure how to write him😭. English is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡
D*rk content blogs do not interact (*a)
Alhaitham
"It's not your problem if Kaveh's struggling with his color schemes, darling" he replies quickly, not even bothering to look up from the page in his book.
"Archons, Haitham, it's not like that. Just look at me and imagine what color I radiate :)
he sighs a little, closing the book but keeping his fingers between the pages. Even if he thinks it's a bit of a silly question, he does take a moment to let his eyes trace over you, shamelessly letting them linger on your lips too. for a second you think he's actually going to answer your question but then you see him failing to suppress a smirk and his gaze meets yours with an expression you can only describe as Are you serious?
"Humor me Alhaitham"
Alright, let me think.. he completely closes his book this time, placing it in front of him on his desk and rests his head on his hand
"Colors can actually invoke a lot of thoughts and impressions. Most people associate red with warmth, and passion, but also with danger or fear depending on the context. A lot of people view black as a masking color be it clothes to hide certain parts of yourself or the shadows in your nightmares, but you can also see it as a protective color as it doesn't reflect. Blue is usually related to the sea, the lighter tones with sunny mornings walking along the shore, darker tones of blue can relate to the deep cold unknown depth that's hidden from prying eyes......if I had to describe you a color..it would be green. Not necessarily because of the associations with it, wisdom, calmness, and hope. which do apply to you don't get me wrong, but green is my favorite color, and you're my favorite person. Simple as that. Now, care to read with me for a bit?
*he's so annoying but he does it so well. Bites him*
Kazuha and wrio under the cut♡
Kazuha
kazuha has been a bit gloomy as of lately. His usual flowery words have lost their petals, His leatherbound notebook has not made an appearance in a while, neither have the little poems he writes for you to wake up to, and his fingers are clean, not covered with his usual, and at this point, you believed to be permanent, ink stains. It's clear he's been going through the infamous writers block. something that most artist go through and also get out of but it's nonetheless an infuriating part of being an creative individual. But since Kazuha has made you his muse as he told you many many times before, who are you to not try and help inspire your lovely boyfriend.
It takes you a while of bringing him to random locations for sunset walks or stargazing and asking him random questions until one finally hits the spot. His eyes immediately lighting up as he turns to you with such a warm expression of love and adoration you're pretty sure your heart skipped a beat
"That's a very beautiful question, dove"
He takes a moment to think about it, eyes lovingly tracing over every little detail of you, the backlight of the sun, the glimmer of the waves shining in your eyes
"I don't think describing you as one color does you justice. You shift hues as softly and gently as the day shifts into night, and the sun makes place for the moon in the sky. But if I do have to say just one, I see hints of purple in you, but that could also be because the color reminds me of my hometown and everytime I look at you, my soul feels at home" He answers with a new found excitement in his voice
"Actually, maybe I can use this for a poem-"
*i'm projecting can you tell?*
Wriothesley
You often come down into the fortress to spend some time with him on his break. With both of you living on different levels of Fontaine, you'll take any chance you can get to be around him and even when it's not officially his break time, he could never say no to you....or tea time
That's why you're here now sitting on the edge of his desk as he hastily discared the paperwork to make room for the teapot and biscuits. As quickly as the tea flows, the conversation passes from deep and meaningful, romantic ones, to terrible jokes and banter as both of you just talk about whatever comes to mind.
So he doesn't raise an eyebrow when you ask him what colors remind him of you. it's quite endearing how he just goes along with whatever silly questions or requests you throw at him without making you feel embarrassed about it
"Probably between a pearlescent white and a warm honey yellow."
"Interesting answer...why?"
"the colours remind me of the sun and the moon, and living at the bottom of the ocean here in the fortress we don't have either of those of course. You're the closest thing I have to feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin or experiencing calm atmosphere of the moonlight. And to be honest I prefer you over the real thing♡"
Hes so cute *cries*
Thank you for reading angels!♡
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#wriothesely x reader#alhaitham fluff#alhaitham x reader#kazuha x reader#genshin impact x gn reader#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#alhaitham x gender neutral reader#kazuha x gender neutral reader#genshin fluff
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—HAIKYU!! various ; better in the dark
a/n ; [gn!reader] how deep is your love pt 2???!?!! AND YES!! the title is a tv girl reference :3c please dont let this flop!! praying that all the ppl who found pt 1 found this 🥹🩷 tysm for all the notes everyone!! <3
— characters : akaashi, kenma, kita, semi, kageyama, suna
part 1 ! ♡ oikawa, osamu, tsukishima, hinata, sakusa, kuroo
tea roses !
keiji akaashi ; tip toe - HYBS
THIS MAN. he will take you out on absolutely BEAUTIFUL dates. they are scheduled and well thought out, all without you knowing. knows what you like, can predict what you order, where you will sit or do, and KNOWS how to fluster you effortlessly. UNSPOKEN RIZZ AT ITS FINEST YOUR HONOUR!!
at one point he had to resort to the notes app to write what you're like but had realised he had subconsciously memorised all of it by heart. deleted it and still knows you like the back of his hand!!
weirdly knows how to pick the best candles.
the warm, nostalgic smelling ones. candles that are the perfect dash of nostalgia, that feel comforting and warm. i wonder if its in the brain or an instinct thing
for anniversaries or literally just whenever, he makes paper flower bouquets. they are so intricate and every little detail, colour and fold makes it so perfect. in-between classes or when he finishes work early, he'll be nonchalantly folding another smaller flower for the arrangement. he does it so effortlessly too 😭!!
sometimes likes to fiddle with your fingers especially if you wear rings. one of the only and very sweet moments of PDA!! gently rubs his fingertips over your knuckles and tracing all the lines. i need an akaashi keiji in my life
will send you the most beautiful, heart-wrenching and mesmerising poems at an insane hour. you'll wake up with a couple paragraphs about how important healing or taking one step at a time is, making sure you fall in love with yourself everyday too. (please do)
kozume kenma ; cherry wine - grentperez
facinated by painted nails. on holidays he might paint them black, or maybe get a little cat sticker on his index!! pick the colour he'll love it either way
cherishes your little trinkets so much 😞 polaroid of you two and stickers on the back of his phonecase, keeps some of the random stuff you give him in his pocket. you could find a rock you gave him like 3 months ago but he kept it because you said it reminded you of him??
perfectly able and capable to order things by himself, but you know he isn't the type of guy to actually seem to WANT to do it. he is too lazy to actually get up but not lazy enOUGH when it comes to you. he might hide behind you. "HE SAID NO PICKLES!!"
CRAZY beef with your plushies. or anything you hold dear honestly. he can and will get pouty. BEWARE!! you must give him a lil' kiss to earn his attention back. (loves the forehead ones)
sometimes he forgets or just doesn't want to eat. it will get to the extent where you have to spoon feed him,,please remind and encourage him to ! eating, sleeping... just can't do it without a little push.
does this thing with his hands when you cross the road. i don't wanna say grabby hands because its pretty cringe, but it is definitely grabby hands. has no idea why he does it but its such a sweet and small gesture╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ !
cat parents but not exactly cat parents? 🤔 you found this stray cat once, and started visiting it everyday on the way to school. you cared for it, and when kenma picked that up he was also instantly fond of it too. now you both kinda feed it your leftover lunch when you visit the cat after school.. he's so precious with the little cat ueue.. take pictures before the moment fleets!
has the date you two met written on his controller... (he was so hesistant at first though LMAO)
shinsuke kita ; old love - yuji, putri dahlia
uses your initial for math variables. he'll use x or y sometimes, but his first option is ALWAYS your initial. you found this out on a study date once, math talk blablabla and he uses to what seems to you a 'random letter' NO. it is your initial!! 😞 when you ask he seems unfazed, but his ears are pretty red... idk guys i think he wants you
one of the people that make you stiffen up when they get physical. when he lays his head on your shoulder you instantly freeze up, trying not to move a BONE so you won't disturb him. it's like muscle memory to you LMAO.
really pretty, long lashes... if you've read part one, oikawa and tsuki are very similar :0!! loves when you graze his lashes with the back of your index finger
like akaashi, learnt how to make flowers but they're crochet 🥹 i think growing up his grandma had taught him how to crochet and all the little patterns. overtime, dedicated himself to making an arrangement every anniversary... they come with little heartfelt letters too!! (kita boyfie material COME HOME!!)
very routinal as well!! like kuroo (he is the full package) he never misses a morning or night to say good morning or good night. AND he places sticky notes around your desk or places he knows you'll be in reminding you to smile or something along those lines !!
what took the cake for me was when he left a little bag filled with goodies once he realised atsumu was sick 😣 definitely does the same for you... sends bag with a bowl of hot soup his grandma made at your front door
eita semi ; i wish you roses - kali uchis
weirdly immersed in the painting of nails as well. sometimes he'll ask you to paint his in black but he got dress-coded a week later 😓 SIKE gives NO shat and kept them on anyway. they are way too valuable to him to just erase. nails done in a simple colour he likes?? by his s/o?? wiped off?? very funny shiratorizawa
i think + the neighborhood, he likes tv girl, kendrick lamar, childish gambino but has a duality of laufey and beabadoobee's bedroom pop and fuzzy rock??
sick of people making arctic monkeys his personality 😞 musicians arise!! apart from the VBC, hes probably in a band too. small gigs here and there for school, and a few fun sessions with his friends just to play whatever. come to his gigs! (sometimes he'll magically play 10x better when you're around, he says)
share earphones with him PLEASE. on rainy bus rides or walks home, he'll play something you like hehe c:
takes you out to the mall closest to shiratorizawa to go pick up some fast food or a drink. it usually gets really crowded from all the surrounding schools so he keeps you close by the waist
and obviously the basic, will sit with you and teach you the basics of bass or electric guitar. i think he'd play a bit of percussion too (о´∀`о) sometimes he'll take you into his lap, but thats when he feels pretty clingy but very discreetly!!
tobio kageyama ; what would i do? - strawberry guy
please don't try to flirt with him he WON'T UNDERSTAND!!!! *gunshots*
if you say literally anything that isn't directly stating your point, he will not get it. using metaphors or just figurative language in general he is STRUGGLING. you need to say, "you're pretty." because things like "i fall in love with you every day" or "i'll find you in every universe" he will actually look at you BAFFLED. please help this man
thinks about what YOU would do. like when he is in doubt or feels like he's about to lash out, he will take a moment and literally ask himself what you'd do or say. even in tests or something completely unrelated to you he will literally ask himself what you would put in the answer box !!
face scrunch when he gets jealous ! he kinda has a lil' pout but can't bring himself to say anything. when you finally notice him he'll have this lil' (๑ˋ^ˊ ๑) face... please kiss his eyelid or the corner of lips cuz HE HAS TOO MANY PRETTY BOY PRIVILEGES!! (and he'll get flustered it's the cutest) revoke them THIS instant!!
his favourite type of kisses are the ones where you'll push his hair back and give him a forehead kiss. he'll take you in by the waist and keep you close, he likes to listen to your heart because you have his. when he feels clingy, he'll nuzzle his head into your shoulder. what a dork
will attempt to find you at his games pre and post timeskip. before the game he will try to make it not look frantic but one of his members eventually catch on 😞
rintarou suna ; SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK - joji
camera roll is either 0.5's of the most jaw dropping, majestical sunsets and sunrises that he's experienced with you or literally anytime the sky is feeling a little different (if he's not with you at the time he WILL send them to you at either 5am or 7pm saying it reminded him of you) or the CRAZIEST 0.5's of you losing sanity or of you off guard. its wild blackmail material but he chooses not to LMAO. (because of the love in his heart, he says)
has a little photo album for you and anything you related!! he also takes the best candid photos of you and post them on close friends!! (´∀｀)
no. #1 victim of couple tiktok trends. pretends and looks like he doesn't like it, but doesn't want it to end. once you press post he will stare you down with his beautiful ahh olive hazel eyes (he wants more)
last one on the social med side, he mentions you in posts with your initials all the FLIPPIN' TIME!! his dedication is quite endearing
on days where everything becomes overstimulating, he will notice. will eye you for a while, but once he knows when it gets to a certain extent he will hand you an earphone.
anyone who says suna is an arctic monkey's listener is a LIAR I SAID IT I SAID IT!!!!! *more gunshots* JOKES he probably has a couple of their songs in his playlist, but i personally think he's more tyler the creator coded. people who get it get it (avril lavigne sk8r boi? keshi beside you? definitely)
hot adams apple
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu drabble#akaashi x reader#kenma x reader#kita x reader#semi x reader#kageyama x reader#suna x reader
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Honest “Favorite Character” Asks 🌿
I can’t find character asks that suit my type of discussion, so I made some. These are meant to be somewhat personal, therapeutic, and pensive.
Send someone one of their favorite characters along with any of the following questions.
—
1. Do you project onto this character?
2. Did you always like this character?
3. What first drew you to this character?
4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?
5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?
6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?
7. Does the character’s age matter to you?
8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?
9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?
10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?
11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?
12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?
13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?
14. Are you physically attracted to this character?
15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?
16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?
17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).
18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?
19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?
20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?
21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?
22. Do you think you will always love this character?
23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?
24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.
25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?
26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?
27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?
28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?
29. Do you affectionately bully this character?
30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?
31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?
32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?
33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?
34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?
35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?
36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?
37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?
38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?
39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?
40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?
41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?
42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?
43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?
44. Which season makes you think of this character?
45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?
46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?
47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?
48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?
49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?
50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!
#now go attack your mutuals and their favs <3#i just couldn’t find the type of asks that help process feels on the blorbos so i just made em#character asks#fandom asks#character ask game#ask game#fictional characters#blorbos#mutuals#fandom
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Move me, Baby
Rating: Mature, 18+, MDNI (Please, I really really don't want to have to block you, I write fluff too, go look at that.)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier X fem!Reader (not proofread)
Warnings: No use of Y/n because I personally find it unbearable to read, soft dom Andrew, thigh riding, body worship, nipple play (Female receiving) begging if you squint, scent kink also if you squint, Andrew being the sweetest little sweetie pie, heavy on the praise kink, heavy on the teasing, encouragement,I tried really hard to write a plotless smut but it turned into passionate love making, Your honor they’re in love!
Summary:It’s a lazy afternoon, and you’re watching Andrew write music, one of your favorite activities. Usually you let him do his thing, not wanting to disturb him, and today is just like any other, until you happen to hear some of the lyrics he’s written, coming to the realization of what he’s thinking while he’s writing about you (set during the writing process of Wasteland, Baby!, specifically the writing of Movement because I am utterly obsessed with that song, and I have been ITCHING to put this idea into words for WEEKS. I apologize for nothing.)
Word count: 2.5k ish, give or take maybe 100 words
You couldn’t help but stare at him as he sat there, guitar in his lap, plucking away at the strings and quietly whispering a few words that came to mind. He writes down the words that stick in a notebook, which he has used beyond the point of disrepair.
There were pages that were practically falling out, filled with songs and poems, some of which were about you, that much you knew, though he had yet to play any of them for you, claiming it “Ruined the surprise” Of getting to show you the new album once it was finished.
His words were barely able to be heard between his low tone and the distance between the two of you. You could tell tough, that whatever he was writing was going well, he had only been working for a few hours, but he had already come up with over half a page of lyrics. Rarely did you see him work this fast, so whatever it was was either something important to him that he felt needed to be said, or it was something that he felt deeply in the moment.
His voice grows slightly louder as he runs back a few lines to go over what he had written, just barely loud enough that I can make out the words.
“When you move
I can recall somethin’ that’s gone from me
When you move
Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free”
I smile a bit at the words. He’s the kind of person who could so effortlessly put his thoughts into something so poetic and beautiful. You had been listening to his music for years, long before the two of you met, and yet you found yourself in awe of the things his mind was capable of every time.
“So move me, baby,
Shake like the bough of a willow tree
You do it naturally
Move me, baby”
Oh.
“So move me, baby
Like you’ve nothin’ left to prove
And nothin’ to lose
Move me, baby”
Oh.
You’re taken slightly aback by the words falling so effortlessly from his mouth. The way their meaning, bordering on sacrilegious, sounded as if he were praying to the most sacred deity as it dripped like honey from his mouth.
This was a rarity, even as you had moved in with him, being able to see the entirety of his musical process, you never got to hear any of his music before it was finished, unless something really stumped him and he needed your thoughts on it.
Everything about having heard him felt like an invasion of his privacy, and yet the idea of the thoughts that must have been running through his head for hours while he had been writing set your entire body on fire.
It took everything within you not to run over there and jump his bones on the spot if you were being honest.
Watching his hands pick at the strings, his hold on the neck gentle while his fingers moved from chord to chord, you were in complete awe of him. You wondered for a moment if his hands would be so gentle if you were there, in his lap instead of the instrument.
“Shit, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” Andrew's almost panicked voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to reality.
You must have looked absolutely dumbfounded, you had to consciously pick your jaw up from where it was, having gone almost completely slack. It took you a moment to find your voice, whispering as you stood from your place on the bed that the two of you shared, “I’m glad I did though.”
You muster up a smile as you make your way over to the chair he had placed himself in early that morning. It was almost too small to house his large frame, his legs were too long to sit comfortably in most chairs, and at times it made you question why he didn't have a higher chair made so that he could sit comfortably in that same corner while he was writing.
Having made your way over to him, you gently take the guitar from his hands, setting it on its usual stand a few feet away, before taking your place on his lap, facing him.
He giggles a little bit at your antics. “Hey, I was using that.” His tone is playful, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose as his hands move to sit comfortably on your back,lifting his shirt that you were wearing just high enough so that he could touch your skin, his hands spanning far enough to reach just below the waistline of the lacy underwear you were wearing, holding you secure on his one leg that you had placed yourself on top of, straddling just above his knee.
“Where’d you come up with the idea for that song anyways?” You rocked yourself gently on his thigh, just once, lightly enough to pass off as you trying to get comfortable, but you both knew that that was not the goal in what you were doing. You could tell by the slightest of smiles, almost a smirk gracing his lips that he knew exactly what you were trying to do.
Looking at you through hooded eyes, almost daring you to keep going, he moved his just slightly lower, moving underneath the lace that served as the only barrier between your core and his clothed thigh. “Ehm… I was just thinking about you,” he paused momentarily, only to move your hips farther up his thigh, closer to him, his face now a mere centimeters from your neck as he continued speaking. “And the idea came to me.”
His voice was steady while doing so, almost taunting, chuckling lightly as he heard the shift in your breathing. He loved watching you go from that confident state, coming over to take what you wanted, to putty in his hands the second he gave you any kind of attention.
There you were, straddling his thigh after having come over with all the confidence in the world, now shaking, practically a mess, already leaving a wet spot on his pants in your wake and he had barely even touched you. It never ceased to amaze you how quickly he could get you so wound up.
You let out a small whimper, barely even audible as he placed a soft kiss underneath your ear. “Oh, my love how sweetly you sing for me.”
His honeyed words were dripping with lust. As your hips began moving, this time of their own accord, against his thigh. You moved ever so slowly, almost shying away from the way your body reacted to him, as if you were embarrassed by how weak you were to his touch but nevertheless, needy for any friction you could create between the two of you.
After a few moments of this, his eye look up to meet yours, and you can feel the blood pooling in your cheeks the more you look into his eyes, realizing what was going on, realizing how you probably looked.
He had the biggest smile on his face looking at you though. All the love and adoration in the world was held in that stare. “You’re doing so good baby”
He uses his hands to guide you through the motions, pressing you down onto his thigh harder in a way that drives you absolutely crazy, a sentiment that is reflected in the way you almost immediately moan his name.
You’re almost positive that your face is beat red and your hips snap back and forth. You’re nothing short of a moaning mess on his lap, his touch melting you into a puddle of the sounds that escape your lips as you increase the pressure applied by your hips.
Any reservations that you had about not wanting to embarrass yourself had thrown themselves out the window. You were so wrapped up with the pooling heat between your legs that you barely even registered Andrew lifting your shirt over your head and carelessly discarding it somewhere across the room before his hands returned to you, this time starting at your breasts, teasing your nipples between his thumb and forefinger on each hand.
“Andrew, please.” The words come out louder than expected, and needier, between gasps and moans, you weren’t even sure if he could understand you through the string of moans and profanities you were all but screaming.
“You look so pretty, darling, all worked up for me.” His voice was low and his eyes were unwavering, moving all over you, unable to settle on a single part of which he longed to see most.
“Your pretty face, mouth open like that just for me.” He met his lips with your just briefly, moving his lips down your cheek, moving to your jaw, all the way to the base of your throat.
“That beautiful voice of yours, all the sounds it makes for me.” He continues his descent, dipping his head between his hands, kissing the valley between your breasts a few times before moving his hands down to your waist moving his face to place a kiss on your right nipple, then your left.
“This body of yours is nothing short of utterly and absolutely breathtaking.” He continues his descent with his hands, while his mouth returns to your neck, leaving kisses and bites and sucking on the sensitive area, leaving not a single inch of the skin he touches unmarked.
Your pace is relentless at this point, your hips snapping back and forth against him with what can only be described as pure, unbridled desperation. The way his hands roam your body, the way your core rubs against him, it’s the only thing you can focus on for longer than maybe half a second.
Your face finds it way to the crook of his neck, biting not so lightly on a spot smack in the middle of the left side of his neck and the gran he lets out is incredible.
His hands have traveled lower by now, his right hand resting in its former spot, encouraging your hips, all the while his right hand has traveled down your front, and is now resting underneath the thin layer of lace, the only article of clothing still on your body, rubbing painstakingly slow circles around the bundle of nerves between your thighs.
It’s all that you can do not to come unraveled right at the first moment of contact. You push your face further into his neck, not sure if you're trying to dampen the sound of your own moans or if you're making an attempt to suffocate in his scent, either way, you’re doing everything you can to hold the last pieces of yourself together.
“Eyes on me, darling.” His fingers are still moving at that agonizing pace, while your hips continue their movements, silently begging him to pick up the pace. You face stays put, buried deeply in the crook of his neck.
“Come on, my love, let me see that pretty face of yours. I’d like to watch myself become your undoing if it's all the same to you.” This time, you obey, Lifting your head out of its hiding place to meet his eyes. “There’s my pretty girl.” He smiles so brightly at you.
You’re eyes are pleading with him at this point, begging for release as he maintains his slow pace.
“Please, Please, Please, Please,” You repeat the word over and over like a chant, a mantra.
A rather breathy chuckle leaves his lips and he places another small kiss on your lips before asking. “What is it you want sweetheart?”
You throw your head back and groan at his antics, knowing he wont give you the release that you so desperately need until you ask for it. “Please, Andrew, you know what I want.”
He lets out a laugh, not anything mean spirited, just playful, you know all too well that not asking directly is going to get you absolutely nowhere, but to save yourself your last shred of dignity before you just come right out and beg, you do always give it one good try.
“Do enlighten me, love, how am I to know what you want if you haven’t asked for it?” His smile is wicked by this point. He knows he always get what he wants out of you. He knows just how to bend you to his every whim.
“God damn it Andrew, please just let me come” you’re visibly shaking by this point, both with frustration and from the effort you’re putting in not to finish without his permission.
“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The pace of his hand gradually picks up and your already rather loud moans turn into what borders on screams. You quickly make a mental note to apologize to the neighbors at a later date.
“Three” He begins counting down, again, painfully slow and you feel the ever tightening knot in your abdomen begin to pull so tight it’s almost painful.
“Two” The seconds that it takes him to count down feel like hours, days even, as you do everything you can to prevent that knot from snapping, including screwing your eyes shut, an action that Andrew seems to take personal offense to, based on his tone “Open those pretty little eyes for me or I will start over.” Your eyes shoot open.
“One” you're on your last leg if you're being honest. You need him to say those words, and quickly.
“Come for me, my love.” At his words, you feel all of that pleasure climax and the knot in your abdomen snaps, releasing all of that pressure that’s been building up for however long the two of you have been there.
The world seems to spin, all the while his fingers still slowly circling your clit, making you twitch and squirm, while he whispers in your ear how good you did and how proud he is of you.
By the end of it, you’re completely limp against his chest, panting, twitching and still moaning even though his hands have both moved to the back of your head, smoothing your hair down from its now wild state, sticking to the beads of sweat on your forehead. He kisses your temple a few times and moves you from your position straddling his leg to cradle you in his arms while he waits for you to calm down.
It takes you a few minutes to regain your sanity. “Do you want me to let you go back to writing?” You ask in a whisper, still tucked tightly against his chest.
He laughs at the thought. “Oh no, my love. After that divine scene I just witnessed, no. I’m not quite finished with you yet.”
N E ways,I wrote that all in the span of like 4 hours, everybody clap. I’ll probably post some fluff in a few days, who knows.
#hozier fanfiction#hozier#andrew hozier byrne#the hoziest#eat your young#smut#fanfiction#reader insert#x reader#writeblr#writers on tumblr#female writers#writerscommunity#writers and poets#writer things#im in love with him#i need him biblically#i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism#plotless smut#movement hozier#wasteland baby#take me to church#holy shit what did I just write#hozier x reader#ao3 writer#fanfiction writer#writerblr#hozier fic#omg i love hozier#unreal unearth
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Following a Trail of Clues
Lots of plots have at least some aspect of figuring out a mystery or uncovering some hidden truth. While it may not be a traditional murder mystery, writing a plot that revolves around the gathering of information and uncovering of clues can be written using a lot of the same techniques.
1. You should probably plan it
If you’re strictly a pantser, give it a shot, but I have never been able to pants mysteries like this. I would recommend planning it from the beginning and saving yourself a lot of time and headaches trying to piece it together later.
2. Start with the beginning and end
When planning a mystery, I start with the beginning, and then skip to the point that they uncover the truth or figure it out and work backwards to fill out the middle. What is the last hint they need to uncover the full truth, then, what leads to that hint, rinse and repeat until we get back to that beginning you created.
For example, say the MC is trying to find their missing friend. The last point would be ‘they find their friend’, so that’s where we begin. Maybe right before that, they’re told the location, to get their location, they’ve kidnapped one of the bad guys who knows it, to get to him, they need to break into the evil lair, to find the lair, they need to spy on the organization, and so on.
3. Diversify the hints
I talk about this a bit in my post about written elements (here), but essentially, you’ll want to diversify how your characters get their hints. It will seem cheap if they find everything they need to know on conveniently spaced notes or journal entries (unless you can really justify that), or it’s all told to them by someone who happens to know it all (such as the ‘wise man’ trope).
Maybe they find the last clue written down, but the one before was told to them from a key character, and the one before was puzzled out through a riddle, etc. etc. Here are some places to find clues:
Someone else knows something
This could be either an ally or an enemy. Family members, friends they weren’t aware of, a hidden partner, seemingly a stranger who knows more than they’re letting on. If they are an ally, there should be a reason they haven’t come forward yet, or justification for why their testimony is where it is in a story. Maybe they are somewhat accidentally guilty in the mystery, maybe they are afraid to be involved, maybe they aren’t aware anything has happened at all.
If they’re an enemy, maybe your protagonists need to corner them, best them in a battle, talk to them away from their boss, kidnap them, etc. Consider why this person would betray their ‘side’ to provide a clue to the protagonists.
Journal entries, notes, letters, ledgers, or otherwise written down
Physical evidence—footprints, pieces of clothing left behind, an object, photos, drawings
Biological evidence--fingerprints, DNA, hair, etc. If your character already has access to the equipment for this, great! If not, consider how they could find this out.
A prophetic dream or vision (use in cases in which it would make sense for your character to have this, obviously)
A riddle, poem, or song, if you can justify it.
An educated guess (for small jumps)
Timing—if they can figure out a timeline, they may be able to figure out something else
Something is missing or off place. That’s odd, character always leaves their book on the bedside table, so why isn’t it there?
Any other ways to get hints or clues to your characters?
#writing#creative writing#writers#screenwriting#writing community#writing inspiration#books#filmmaking#writing advice#hints#clues#following a trail of clues#writing mystery#mystery#detective
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i love reading your fics, they always give me 🦋🦋🦋 i love them so much, so, i want to make a request a angst-comfort where zoro and reader are dating but they got into a fight (*cough* zoro got jealous and starts to question reader's loyalty *cough*) but it ends happily because I don't want cry. n e way, continue writing stories, you write them so well... 😚
im so glad you like my work!! and thankyouu so much for sending in the request, let's get to itt <3
moss and towel ft. roronoa zoro!
set-up: in which, you and zoro have been dating for six months. but after one fight night and growing distances, he finds himself questioning everything you've built together.
warnings: (poor attempts at writing) angst, zoro acts like an idiot, profanities. yeah, that's about it.
the winds were cruel tonight and even crueler were you.
atleast there was some comfort in the cold gusts, some reason in the way they played against the swordsman's skin and left behind selfish goosebumps. atleast, he could attempt to understand it with nami's weather charts or whatnot.
but you. how could he attempt to understand you?
his eyebrows bunched as he stared up, fixing his gaze against the twinkling points. groaning, he put his hand over his eyes. maybe in a way, sure, it was his fault. he was never good with words or those fancy poems or haikus. he was never the one to resort to affection. but how was he supposed to fix this?
the first mate of the ship rested a fraction of his bodyweight against the wooden railing of the crow's nest. the wind tousled his unkempt hair and running a hand through his moss-green locks, he vaguely tried to remember how long it had been since nami dragged him into the bathroom and gave him a haircut again.
probably too long. he concluded with a sigh as the soft tresses caressed the mid-point of the back of his neck.
he was supposed to meet his girlfriend here. that's what had been decided. just you, him and the infinitely infinite night sky. the swordsman had even decided to talk about his feelings 'neath the dark abyss of the sky (even if he hated the mere idea of that).
but it had been 30 minutes and there were no signs of you anywhere.
life had been hectic for the both of you lately, whether it was because of the constant run-ins with the marines, zoro having to accompany luffy to side-quests or some other shit the sea sprouted every once in a while. either ways, it meant that you and him saw less and less of each-other as each day passed him by.
resigning himself to a tired sigh, zoro decided to climb downwards. you were not gonna come, that much was sure.
as his heavy feet planted against the wooden floor, he took a second to collect his thoughts. he started walking the stairs to go under the deck, to the common space where most of the crew lounged at the end of the day. descending, he thought of all possible explainations. maybe you had been caught by someone else and forced to listen to one of their anecdotes, maybe nami had asked you to help with the log pose calculations of the last island, or maybe chopper wanted you to help him grind some fresh medicine.
maybe-
he stepped inside the common place with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart and immediately saw you. you, ever so beautiful with you soft smiles and your lame jokes. you with your flowing hair and unruly habits. you, that was currently laughing along to something that shit-cook was talking about.
he must have caught your gaze cause you immediately looked away from sanji and to your boyfriend, giving him a soft smile. but he left the room without returning that gesture and you found yourself on your feet, walking after him and confused.
you trailed after him, calling his name out sweetly till you reached his room and he shut the door before you could get in.
"hey!" you laughed playfully, twisting the handle with ease and stepping inside. you closed the door behind you and tucked your arms around your chest, sporting a lively pout.
but he seemed to have to reaction to your antics, instead, deciding to carefully lay his three swords on the bed behind him as if he was courting the swords and not you.
"what's up with you?" you raised an eyebrow at him, amused by the way the man sat at the edge of the bed with an annoyed huff. when he said nothing, you pressed again, this time a bit more direct, "why are you grumbling now?"
he's been like this for the past few days and now that he refused to elaborate, you found your patience slipping off of you like a thin overcoat, leaving you behind in your ugly, impatient skin.
today had been hard, like any other day. and for some reason or the other, instead of inviting you into his arms, this man had swore to make your life even more difficult.
"zorooo," groaning, you asked again, "can you stop being so dramatic?"
his head snapped up, eyes finding yours with wicked ease. his jaw was clenched tight, face red as if he was burning up, "i am being dramatic? me?"
"yeah? you're being so fucking weird." you sighed, "why?"
"i dunno, go ask that fucking cook maybe?" he grumbled.
if the exasperation on your face wasn't obvious until now, after that comment, it was surely on full display.
"what?" you hissed, "what is up with you and all these weird accusations?"
"as i said, i dunno. ask that fuckin' waiter instead, why don't you? i'm sure he'd have some answers lined up."
"why are you dragging sanji into this?"
"why are you defending him?" he stood up, his face mirroring your exasperation tenfold. he crossed his arms similarly to yours and the muscles shifted impatiently under his shirt.
you threw you hands upwards, "im not defending him! i am aski—"
"—yes you are defending him, don't even."
you were tired.
god knew you every inch of your muscles were alight with exhaustion, your head was pounding and if he wanted to fight you, you wouldn't even have it in you to fight back. these past few days had been enough on their own. so, you sighed, taking on a resigned tone, "i am so tired, zoro. can't we do it another day?"
"yeah, right." he grumbled again, his eyebrows bunching together in a characteristic manner, "everything needs to be pushed back with you, right?"
"what is that supposed to mean?" you were sure smoke was rising from the top of your head and your pupils were comically blown out, "i was tired and wanted to take some time off, so, i had sat down. and sanji found me to make some ideal chit-chat. god forbid i be tired for once-"
"i was waiting at the crow's nest for the past 30 minutes, where were you?"
"huh—" fuck. your eyes widened as the terrible realization set in. almost on instinct, your fingers reached out to touch him so as to makeup for the terrible deed you had committed. but your boyfriend pulled himself back, dodging your careful grasp before rasping out, "don't."
"zoro, i'm sorry! really, i genuinely cannot believe i forgot—"
"so, you forgot me over that fucking cook?"
"no!" you repeated, slower, "no, of course not. i was just tired and—"
"—and you decided to go off with him instead?" he scoffed, "i thought we were dating and yet, i think we've barely had any time to just spend together. every time it's someone or the other you have to rely on, not me."
"zoro..." you started carefully but he cut off you off, "don't zoro me. it's either nami or sanji or luffy or someone or the other. i wouldn't be surprised if you're fucking blondie behind my back too."
you stared at him, shocked. the wretched feeling gnawed at your insides till you looked at him in pure, utter disgust. the corners of your eyes burned up and you spat out, "don't fucking talk to me."
and you left the room, slamming the door shut behind you.
zoro stared at the place you were standing at and then slowly dragged his eyes at the door that you had slammed shut.
fuck.
⋆⭒˚｡⋆🪐⋆⭒˚｡⋆
well into the night, when he finally had swallowed his pride and mentally beat himself enough, he walked out of his room.
his steps were slow, stride careful so to not panic the mostly sleeping crew. searching through the washroom and the kitchen, the supply closet and chopper's tiny, stashed-away office, he failed to find you. then, he stepped out onto the deck and in a clean sweep, found you at the port side. the wind blew ideally though your hair and you stood with your arms on the railing.
the swordsman silently walked up to you, choosing to stand beside you without saying much. and if he had hoped for you to start the conversation, he was in for a long, long night.
"hey" he finally started off.
"i think i told you to not talk to me."
your feet shifted and you balanced your bodyweight away from him and he pursed his lips. standing in silence, the sounds of waves crashing against the ship painted you both in a uncomfortable hues.
he tried again, "i- i am sorry, really."
"don't care, didn't ask."
roronoa zoro bit the inside of his cheek, savoring the taste of foul rejection in his mouth over and over. but he had never been the one to go out without a fight. hell, he was the king of hell.
"but i am sorry." he repeated and his calloused fingers inched closer to yours, a poor attempt to ghost his skimming touches over your hand. but you were quicker and you pulled your hands back to yourself and wrapped them around yourself.
he slowly withdrew his hand and his head hung low, "how long are you gonna be mad at me?"
"i don't know? probably till i want to."
"babe—"
"—don't babe me."
"i am sorry—"
"—to fuCKING HELL WITH YOUR SORRY!" your cool demeanor washed off and you bore daggers into his paper-like skin as you stared him down. your breath was laboured and you were sure your yells must have woken someone, if not the entire crew.
he stayed silent, ready to face the consequences of his actions. and although venom was a resident on your tongue, looking at his guilt-struck face, you were reduced to nothing but a dumbfounded, little girl.
whatever you had planned, whatever you had thought you'd call him, whatever accusations you had thrown you'd throw at him dissolved at the tip of your tongue. and instead, an ugly feeling stirred under your skin. the feeling sunk heavy in your chest and your stomach and your head and heart and every other crevice of you. bile crawled up your scratchy throat and the same waterworks made home on your lash line.
when you spoke, you were sure your voice sounded more like a desperate plea than a demand for apology.
"why? why did you say that? that was low."
he looked down at his feet, his fingers twiddling against the sword hilt of his wado ichimonji in an attempt to self-soothe, "i know it was wrong. i was just so angry."
"and that makes it okay for you to question my loyalty?" you sniffed, feeling the watery weight cascade down your cheeks.
"no!" he looked up, alarmed, "no! ofcourse it doesn't. i never was— i was just—" he paused, wincing, "—i was jealous of him."
"sanji?!"
he continued, agonized, "yes, the damn cook. and everyone else, i guess. you seemed to have time for everyone but me."
"zoro, why didn't you just say it out loud to me?" you whispered softly. inching closer to him, you rested your palm against his warm cheek. his growing stubble lightly tickled your skin. you hummed softly when he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, pressing an easy kiss to your fingers. "because i- i just couldn't bring myself to. i'm sorry, i should have talked to you rather than being a prick, really."
"i am sorry too. i know we haven't spent any time for the past two weeks or so. i was so busy within myself that i didn't reach out to you." your fingers played gently against the scars on his face from years of training, "these past few days have been hard—"
"—they've been hell."
you laughed despite yourself, "yeah, i guess they've been hell."
his eyes swayed against yours in a guilt-ridden dance, "forgive me?"
you paused a beat, "do you trust me?"
his answer came more easily than breathing did, "more than i trust myself."
you hummed, "sure?"
and he just nodded. as moments passed you both by, he finally quipped up, "so, am i forgiven?"
"well..." you pondered for a second, "technically, i did fuck up too. so, yeah, you're forgiven." you glared at him, "just never say that kinda shit again."
he smiled and when he spoke, he offered a kind explaination, "i didn't actually mean you were fucking the cook. i just- just kinda said it."
"eh," you waved off his comment, "i don't wanna fuck blondes, anyways. to be honest, not really my type."
"huh?!" his eyes widened in play-pretend, "so his hair colour is holding you back?"
"i mean i'm more into idiots who grow slowly on me. like moss does on a wet towel."
roronoa zoro— bounty hunter, pirate, first mate to a terrifying crew, kind of hell, demon, whatever— looked appalled. "are you comparing me to moss?"
"i am comparing how you grew on me to the lowest form of moss that even grows on the stupidest surfaces."
"don't call yourself stupid, now."
you huffed and turned around, walking towards the stairways that led to the rooms, "i am gonna stop talking to you again!"
he laughed, taking in easy strides to walk after you, "just kidding. i promise. your moss, ever and forever more."
he met your pace, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. you gave him a wayward grin, "good."
he gave you one right back, "great."
"i'm tired."
"me too."
as you both disappeared back into your room, hand in hand, you made a comment about how much his hair grew and he responded with "like moss grows on a wet towel?". next morning you found yourself waking up to the swordsman's heavy snores and heavier body against you.
stupid moss-head.
a/n: i think i like how this turned out lol. hope it's okay @rkiveinmarvel and as always, thank you to anyone else who reads this <3
#one piece#opla#op#roronoa zoro#one piece zoro#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro fluff#one piece fluff#zoro fanfic#zoro imagine
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☉ Stelliums in houses☉
ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1!
ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴏɴᴀᴛᴇꜱ <3 ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀᴇᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛꜱ ɪɴ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ
stellium in 1st house:
✧˚ · . Throughout your life, there could be more of a spotlight on you. Developing your confidence and sense of direction in life could be prevelant themes. How will you take the reins of your own life? What defines your identity? Maybe how you appear to others could be prominent themes in your life too (insecurity/overconfidence). This could also influence your personality and developing certain traits about yourself too. While there is an emphasis on you, there could also be a lack of energy on your part when it comes to compromise and partnership with others (7th house).
stellium in 2nd house:
✧˚ · . There may be an emphasis on material comfort (this can be sensory too, like food, clothing, etc…), self-esteem, and even your body. The second house is succedent to its neighboring 1st angular house, meaning that the 2nd house supports themes regarding the 1st house. The second house shows us what things support our identities so maybe there’s an emphasis on your talents/skills throughout life too. Your life may tend to focus a lot on things that are within your comfort zone (2nd house), but you must also be willing to experience transformation and uncomfortable experiences in order to grow (8th house).
stellium in third house:
✧˚ · . Stelliums in this house can often indiciate someone who loves to write (songs, plays, poems, etc..). Maybe your someone who loves to learn about different topics and can be a lifelong student, as an example. A lot of your energy in life may be put into being out n about in your hometown (stores, malls, etc..) or meeting with different people, whether that be in person or over the internet since this house also represents the media. Maybe you have a passion for social media and content creation, or it played a significant role in your life. It’s important that you expand yourself by going beyond what’s in your immediate environment (3rd house) and expanding yourself through abroad travel and what is foreign to you (9th).
stellium in fourth house:
✧˚ · . Homebody. Lemme just start off with that hehe. But no, there’s more to that don’t worry. This is the house of emotional comforts and of the physical home + family. It’s all about where you came from and your origin story. A lot of your energy in life may be pulled internally, meaning that you want to focus on what emotionally fulfills you and what helps you feel safe and protected. Your family could play a big role in your life and maybe that’s where the majority of your energy is at too. Maybe you too also crave a solid foundation and/or a strong familial connection. You may want to focus on things that happen in your private life (4th), but it’s also important to build a name for yourself publicly and to go after your calling/vocation in life (10th).
stellium in 5th house:
✧˚ · . Some type of production is essential to your life. It can be your hobbies, like music, crafting, acting, etc.. or maybe children (whether they be your own or someone else’s) have a siginificant impact on your life. This house also represents romance and sex so those may also be important things to you in life. Stelliums in this house often demand attention, leisure and fun throughout the native’s life, and while that may be fortunate it’s important that you also don’t procrastinate too much and still keep up with your responsibilities. I often find that stelliums in this house indicate some sort of talent in the arts which are a big part of the native’s lives. While it’s important to cultivate creativity and fun for yourself (5th house) it’s also important to share that with others and/or to truly pursue your dreams/aspirations (11th house).
stellium in 6th house:
✧˚ · . A lot of people say that natives with a stellium in this house could work in industries that do with service (particularly doctors/nurses) or with animals. This house deals with themes of productivity, “practice makes perfect”, and habits. You might care a lot about your productivity and/or whether you are helpful to others. You could also be very health-oriented and care a lot of fitness or improving your physical state. This could be a rarer manifestation of this stellium in this house, but the 6th house also deals with open enemies (12th house = hidden people) which could be a part of your daily life. Your daily routine is very important to you and you may prefer to keep things tidy and neat. It’s important to focus on daily tasks and routines (6th house) but it is equally important to give yourself rest mentally and/or physically (12th house)
#stellium#10th house#aquarius#aquarius venus#astrology observations#midheaven#neptune#pisces#pluto#pluto aspects#saturn#5th house#4th house#3rd house#2nd house#venus opposite uranus#aries venus#taurus#gemini#astrology transits#astro community#mars in 1st house#1st house#moon in 6th house#6th house#asteroid#mars in houses#9th house#mars in the 12th house#astrology
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Healing -Vladimir Makarov
A/N: this is not me telling you how reader looks^
Based on a request:
i love love LOVE the great war. i’m foaming at the mouth for a part 2 BUT can you maybe do something with vlad and his love taking a bath while he reads her poetry or something along the lines. again love your work you truly are amazing 🌷
----
F!Reader, fluff/romance, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, poetry read, pregnant!reader
----
It's been a long day, Vladimir and you haven't seen each other since you left bed. And now, as you walk inside your home, he greets you with a warm meal. "Ah, the girl I have been waiting for." He walks to you, wrapping you in his hold. "What's all this about?" you ask curiously. His hand on your belly, "I think my sweet wife deserves a treat, after all, you did some hard work today." He teases. "Shopping is a sport," you kiss his cheek and he guides you to the warm kitchen. For months since he found out he would become a father, he gave you a credit card, 'spend it on you and our little one.' he said and every day, he sends you out with at least two of his men to buy at least ten things.
He wanted this all to be a thank you, for turning his life around and giving him a new purpose and as you both eat a meal he so carefully cooked with love, he finds himself admiring you. You look up, insecure for some reason until he smiles. "Did you know you are the kind of woman men write poems about?" He continues eating and you feel yourself blushing and a rush of happiness. One thing about your husband is that he knows what to say and how to make you feel, especially, now that you carry your first child.
You look at him, "What have you so….happy today?" He shrugs, "I have many reasons to be happy. I have you, my lovely wife, today all went well, we have a son arriving in a few months and did I mention I have a lovely, beautiful, small and incredibly amazing wife?" You smile and look away. "I mean it, love. I seriously thank you for being part of my life so please just accept all my love because trust me, pretty girl, no one else can get this."
After that much-needed meal, he offers a bath. And as he warms the water for you both, he watches mesmerised as you undress in front of him. Your beautiful body is all for his gaze to admire. For some reason, Vladimir couldn't help but feel a gush of emotions, all good ones of course. The way the room lit up, showcasing all your beautiful features and there was him, watching a goddess undress. It was like a schoolboy, the feeling he had, blushing and looking away from how excited you made him. To others, it's nothing to see your beloved undress anymore but to him, this was a privilege.
They always portray men like him as heartless men with no soul behind their evil loving gaze but if you look closely, there it is, the warm fire that still shines through. "Get in the tub, my love," his voice was always so soft with you. It was comedic how it changed when he spoke to those who aren't you. He was always so cold to others but when he turned to you, gave you one glance or one word, his voice was pure and soft. His hand holding yours as you get in. Hold it until you sit down in the tub. The second he let go, as he walked to the counter of the bathroom, his hand flexed. He was anxious in many ways and for good reason since you had changed the man he was before.
In his hands was the old book of poems he collected of his favourite poets or wrote himself. The book was old, but the words inside were worth more than anything in the world. As he sat down, he could feel the warmth of your back to his chest. You laid against him, finding comfort in his embrace and in some romantic way, this was professing love with unspoken words. His free hand playing with your hair as he holds the book of poems. "Let's see my love, what poem shall I read you today?"
You point towards one. "First Love by John Clare," the title wrote. "Very well, my love." he kisses your head and begins.
"I ne’er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale,
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter’s choice?
Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more."
His voice throughout the poem so steady, and clean and expresses the same emotion the poem itself meant to convey. He places the book on the small shelf by the tub, his arms wrapping you in a loving embrace. "Did you like it?" Vladimir's head resting on your shoulder as his hands caress your belly. "Mhm…I loved this one." your voice was soft as you began to relax with him. "Good, my love," he whispers before kissing your shoulder, one of his hands so delicately lifting your hair as the other writes on your back.
"I- L-O-V-E- Y-O-U" his fingertips spell out. You try and figure out what the message was but before you begin to think, you feel his soft and warm lips kiss the back of your neck. To him, this was the most beautiful thing lovers could do that also meant intimacy. Sitting in a tub, looking out a window that brings light to the bathroom, reading poetry and then doing something like this, kissing your neck with nothing but love, rubbing the same belly that carries his child. And then you got it, "I love you too, Vlad," you lean back, your head turning and your lips meeting his.
It was as if no other worry could bother either of you. Being here, that is what counts and in the darkest corner of his heart, he feels all those old wounds and worries heal. This is real, this moment in time, that is what feels so unreal to those who can't have this privilege but to both of you, this is real, it's love to its simplicity.
Tags:
@goldenmclaren @liyanahelena @selarus @kielsegur @mseccentricks @johfaam0 @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frazie99 @viomast @vampsquerade @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare
#cod x reader#cod#mw3 2023#mw3 x reader#cod mwiii#call of duty mw3#cod mw3#modern warfare iii#modern warfare 3#cod makarov#vladimir makarov fluff#vladimir makarov x reader#vladimir makarov cod#vladimir makarov x you#mw2023#vladimir makarov smut#makarov x reader#makarov cod#makarov call of duty#makarov x you#vladimir makarov#makarov x f!reader#makarov fluff
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the shakespeare exhibit -- drabble 3
pairing: tara carpenter x reader
summary: in which tara meets more of your family and learns another secret
warnings: none
word count: 700+
previous part | next part
Cordelia had been put to bed hours ago. You had been given the task by your parents, with the claim that you could get her to fall asleep the fastest, and Tara had watched as you rocked your sister gently in your arms, whispering sweet words to her until her babbles and giggles faded into a peaceful silence.
Maybe, Tara had thought while she stood in the doorway, committing the sight to memory, a baby wouldn’t be so bad right now.
Though the reason for the party was sleeping in her crib upstairs, there were still plenty of people crowded in your ballroom, though you had told Tara that they were all close friends or extended family by that point.
You had been whisked away by a cousin, which left Tara vulnerable to whomever decided to strike up a conversation. And, just as she watched Nate and Eddie begin to march toward her, her line of vision was blocked by your grandparents, who had finally emerged from the wine cellar.
“Hello, deary,” your grandmother said, smiling. “You must be our Y/N’s dear girlfriend.”
Your grandfather stood by his wife’s side silently, and Tara remembered you telling her that he was not too fond of people. She offered him a smile but kept her attention on your grandmother.
“Yes, hi! I’m Tara.” She stuck her hand out, slightly thankful that your grandma decided to shake it rather than pull her into a hug. As nice as they are, I think I’ve had enough hugs for one day.
“It’s lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Y/N has spoken so much about you.” Your grandmother winked. Tara felt herself blush up to her ears.
“She talks about you guys a lot, too! She holds both of you in very high esteem.”
Your grandmother chuckled, and Tara’s ears perked up, realizing that she was who you had gotten your laugh from. “I’m sure she speaks of her grandfather plenty.” She patted her husband on the forearm. “He is, after all, the writer of the two of us, and we all know how much Y/N loves literature.”
Tara turned to your grandfather. “Right, of course. She’s mentioned that you’re a poet.”
Your grandfather’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of his work. “Talks about her old man, does she? Yes, yes. In my day, I could write poem upon poem.” He looked at your grandmother. “Most of them were for Jane, of course.”
Tara smiled as your grandmother scoffed lightly. This will be us one day, she thought. I just know it. “I’ve read a few of them,” Tara said, and your grandfather grinned. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He stood a little taller and puffed his chest out a bit. “Makes an old man like me feel good, hearing a youngster like you say that.”
“Well, I’m just being honest--” Tara was interrupted by your appearance at her side. You took her hand in yours, beaming at your grandparents.
“Hope these two oldies aren’t boring you, Tar,” you giggled, and your grandmother reached out, swatting you on the shoulder.
“Go on, child,” your grandma said, her tone light. “Go play us a song. Make yourself useful while we speak to your dear girl.”
Play us a song? Tara wondered, her eyebrows furrowing.
You hummed and nodded. “Any requests, my lovely grandmother?”
“Play that one song she likes,” your grandpa answered. “You know…that one song.”
“Ah, yes. ‘That one song’,” you teased. You pulled away from Tara. “Just a moment.” She watched as you crossed the room, settling down on the bench in front of the grand piano that stood in the corner of the room.
Her eyes widened. No way. How many things is this woman hiding from me?
A somber melody filled the room, and all conversations quieted, everyone turning to watch you as you played, your fingers dancing along the keys of the piano like they belonged there.
Tara gulped, her heart beginning to race, a shiver running along her back. Jesus, I’m so in love with her, she thought.
The song began to pick up a bit, and her eyes glanced around the room, seeing your parents sway together and Nate and Eddie sitting still for once, entranced by the tune.
Your eyes closed, your fingers playing faster. You became one with the music, one with the piano, and Tara tried to bite back the smile that pulled at her lips. You looked at home there, on that bench--almost as much as you did when you were explaining literature.
“Oh, I know that look,” your grandfather whispered, and Tara glanced at him. He grinned, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. “Welcome to the family, dear girl.” Softly, he patted her on the back. “Welcome to the family.”
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#tara x reader#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#jenna x reader#museum tara#scream 5#scream 6
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grim uses crayola markers and highlighters to color in ghosts tattoos
Artist
————————————————————————————————————————
pairing: p!ghost x grim
warnings: none i believe
summary: grim loves coloring in ghosts tattoos
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it’s often that boredom consumes you. it hugs you tightly, and forces your mind to run free. in these times of boredom, you read or maybe write a dumb little poem about a bear.
it reads as so:
Little Bear
He’s somewhere out there,
The little bear.
He plays in the water,
And eats honey-
With a little bunny.
that being said, you were bored.
sighing, you stood from your uncomfortable plastic desk chair, and threw your door open.
“c’mon spoon! we have someone to bother.”
sock clad feet pulled little thumps on the hallway floor as you fidgeted with the highlighter lids that were stuffed in your pockets. spoon’s little paws padded down the hall right behind you.
subconsciously, you had a destination in mind. yellow light from the hallway poured down on your small frame, casting dark shadows on the walls as you made your way to your unsuspecting victim.
typically, if boredom struck you this late, you’d find yourself in price’s office. being thrown to the deep end of sleep from him droning on about whatever he was working on. he’d wake you a while later when he picks you up, and makes his way to your room.
tonight, you’d thought you’d give him a break. you knew gaz was passed out. he never stayed up too late, and soap was probably already bothering someone else.
ghost it was.
you stopped in front of his wooden door, hand submerged in your hoodie’s sleeve, and knocked on his door.
it took a second, but his masked face soon appeared in the doorway.
“yes, grim?”
“i’m bored.” you looked up at him from hooded eyes, a grin flooding your features.
in this light, ghost thought you looked at peace. the light shone perfectly on your eyes, the green looking brighter than usual. something only the sun could pull out of you, he’d come to notice over the years. he noted your hair was kind of messy, as if you’d run your fingers through it- curls pulling apart and becoming poofy.
“and i’m supposed to help with that, because why?” his tone was bored, but really he just wanted to see how far he could take it.
“well, i don’t really want to bother price right now- i’ve been doing that too much lately and i don’t really think i can listen to another report about god knows what right now. gaz is passed out in the commons watching some nature documentary? and, i have no idea where soap is. so, you!” you bounced on your heels lightly, spoon poking her head from behind your leg.
ghost stood still, as if weighing his options. he knew he’d say yes. no one can say no to you, but he liked fucking with you.
“alright, c’mon.” he sighed as he moved the door open and stepped out of your way.
“yes! let’s go little one.” you picked up spoon, and sat her on your shoulder as you made your way into ghost’s room.
it was dark save for a desk lamp being on, letting a yellow glow settle on the room.
“i have an idea- if you don’t mind, that is.” you sputtered as you sat on your pal’s bed.
“and that would be?”
“… can i color your tattoos?” your hair flitted in front of your face, eyes peeking from between curly strands.
“i- what.” his eyes widened a bit.
“never mind! let’s just watch a movie or something.” you smiled up at him.
he slowly moved to sit beside you on the bed, “you can color them if you’d like. i’ll put something on the tv.”
“okay!” you waited while he put something on, and scooted back to rest against the headboard.
once he was settled, you gently grabbed his left arm, holding it at the elbow and wrist. your hands softly tugged his sleeve up, just passed the edge of the tattoo. you brought his arm to settle on your lap, hunched over.
ghost peeked down to see his arm in your lap. he hadn’t been touched this delicately in so long. he found himself yearning for your soft touch once you’d let go to grab the markers from your pocket.
spoon still sat on your shoulder, like a little parrot watching over what you were doing.
“ghost?” your soft voice spoke over the background noise of the tv.
“what’s up?”
“can you grab spoon off my shoulder? i don’t want her to fall off.”
he reached over and grabbed the kitten, settling her into his lap as she purred loudly. his fingers delicately ran over her head as she settled.
you took the chance to grab a marker and start your graffiti on your lieutenant’s arm. the cold from the top of the marker made ghost’s arm tense, but soon he relaxed. your touch soothing the goosebumps that formed on his skin.
ghost sat and watched as your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. his once black and white tattoos soon were covered in pastel markings.
he’d peek down every once in a while to see how far you’d come. never making comment unless you asked him which color he thought you should use. he’d answer back in an almost whisper, not wanting to break the peaceful silence that had settled over you three.
sometimes, you would pause your task and watch the show when something caught your eye. your hand still on his forearm, marker clutched in the other.
as time passed, you subconsciously leaned into him more, using his shoulder as support as you gripped his arm and continued to color. the sheets below you ruffled with your movements to become more comfortable over time.
flipping his arm, you continued as he pet the purring bundle of fur in his lap.
small talk of the show playing drifted through the room. you often asking questions about what was happening, or asking him to explain something you didn’t quite understand. he never complained, he liked when you asked him questions. whether it was during something as domestic as this, or what you should do when you get pinned during a mission.
“okay. i think i’m done.” you lifted your head from his shoulder, legs pulled against him as you leaned on him.
his eyes snap down to his arm in your hands.
bright colors donned his arm, and he preferred it that way. because it was done by you. little grim.
“looks good, grim.” his eyes crinkled a bit.
“really?”
“oh, yeah. love it, kid.” his voice was soft.
“thanks!” you beamed up at him.
“do you want to hear the poem i wrote earlier while i was bored?”
a huff of air left his nose, arm still in your soft grip, “hit me with it.”
“it’s called ‘Little Bear’. it goes, ‘He’s somewhere out there, The little bear. He plays in the water, And eats honey- With a little bunny.’” your voice was soft as you recited your dumb little poem back to him.
“are you the little bear, or the bunny? because, i think you’re the little bear and everyone else is the bunny.”
“i never really thought about it. although, i guess me being the little bear makes a bit of sense.” you shrugged as you played with his fingers.
“little grim, the little bear.”
a giggle bubbles from your lips as you rested against him once more.
“ghost?”
“simon, kid. my name’s simon.” he cleared his throat, peering down at you from the corner of his eye.
your head snapped to meet his eyes, “simon?”
“hmm?”
“well i forgot what i was going to say, now. but i think simon suits you quite well, hmm?” simon noted a slight sparkle pass over your eyes as you looked at him.
“well, i would hope so. ‘s my name, innit?” he joked.
“yeah. don’t you dare think you’re getting my name out of me now.” you lightly shoved his shoulder with your own.
“never, kid.” he lightly chuckled.
“good, you’re not getting it.”
“didn’t think so.”
————————————————————————————————————————
a/n: thank you for reading!! that poem is a real one i wrote like two nights ago while i was stoned and bored 😭
#grim au#john price#kyle gaz garrick#soap cod#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghost#cod#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#kyle garrick#gaz mw2#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#captain john price x reader#captain john price#captain price#ghost cod#john soap mactavish x reader#soap mctavish#soap mw2#cod mw2 imagine#cod mw22#cod x reader#mw2#mw2 x reader#mw2022
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