#and brain goes “*shrug*” so i go back to being bored
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i LOVE procrastinating this is fun i KNOW i have assignments to do but i cannot bring myself to do them. i am actually bored out of my mind. i have assignments to do and im bored. i COULD do assignments but i can't be bothered to start
and then im stressed as i realize ive eaten my whole day up doing nothing. is this laziness? i heard being lazy meant relaxing but im doing everything but these assignments. and i feel awful
#posts#were my irl friends right in their joking manners?#do i have some form of adhd to match my autism or am i just lazymaxxing but with some 4th wall narrator in my mind that tells me#“you know its due right. you are WASTING TIME” and i say “i know but how to start doing”#and brain goes “*shrug*” so i go back to being bored#bored and stressed.#im senior year these grades define whether im keeping my school offers. i need to MAINTAIN THEM. bare minimum. that's ALL they want.#bare minimum is do assignment in meh quality so at least i dont get a 0#and i don't tank my grade by like 20% (turning my 80s into horrible 60s) and risk losing acceptances where minimums were 70 or 80s#i would rather do a shitty job than do no job. i need JOB i need PRODUCT to SUBMIT. ON TIME FOR THAT MATTER. if not on time than no grade.#writing this has inspired me to do the least best i can as long as i finish the assignment and i have it done. like not piss poor but like.#no perfectionism. fuck it all my assignments be due today and tommorow we threw out the concept of getting 90s#when we started getting 70s on stuff i DID put effort into#so as long as i pass and my overall grade looks the same ISH give or take 1-2% i should be fine#unis and colleges count the 2nd smemester too and if anything its more lax there#if i get better grades next sememster i can throw out piss poor clss (animation is looking to be the worst but not by big margin)#and replace it with a cooler grade to form my better GPA#because they only count 5 gr12 credits and mixed with my film dual credit i get 6 credits#anyways enough ranting i accidentally hyped myself up i will go find a tutorial for The Program#and try not to kill myself if the interfaces do not look 100% the same (the tutorials use a previous version of same app)
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16 please 👀
Congrats btw for your 2K milestone!! 🎉 WAHOO
number 16, coming right up! thank you for playing and for the congratulations, lovely <3 i hope this one makes you laugh!
(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)
16. "I WANT TO GO HOME TO MY WIFE." (0.7k)
it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.
“seriously, dude?”
bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.
at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”
a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.
“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”
the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”
“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”
sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.
thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.
for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.
biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.
while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.
the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.
reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.
much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.
(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?
the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.
oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.
he quickly types out his response.
(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.
“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”
bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.
pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”
“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.
bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.
“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.
“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”
at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.
before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.
“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.
“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.
at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.
kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”
while the menace snickers. “simp.”
#i love LOVE writing the bakusquad#missing mina here but hopefully she makes an appearance in my other drabbles for this event!#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou imagines#mha imagines#bnha imagines#mha scenarios#bnha scenarios#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou imagine#bakugou drabble#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bkg#2k milestone drabble
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Eddie's lagging behind his friends at comicon, lazily taking in a particularly cool d20 being sold in the artist alley when he spots her. Seated in a chair, looking bored as fuck while she scrolls on her phone, was the most beautiful Blossom he's ever laid his eyes on. She wasn't wearing the usual outfit. She'd switched it out for something preppy and modern- a pleated pink skirt swishing around her thighs, cute white socks, and a sweater vest that shows off how much she goes to the gym. She looks like she would've called him a freak in high school, but in a sexy way, which is a thought that he doesn't want to reflect on without his therapist present.
"You gonna shoot your shot?" Gareth asks.
Eddie feels like he's been caught.
"I don't know, maybe I will," he says with a shrug.
"She's out of your league, friend. She looks like she'd step on you."
"I know," Eddie sighs.
Gareth looks incredibly unimpressed . "Ugh. Go. Before I leave you standing here like an idiot and she notices you staring. Which you're doing a lot, by the way."
He finishes with a shove right between Eddie's shoulder blades, forcing him to stumble toward Ms. Blossom in a way that catches her attention. And then he has to walk up to her, because he's looking at her and she's looking at him, and neither of them are looking away and it's becoming a whole thing. He walks toward her slowly, because he can't think of what to say, and the way she's playing with her wig is really distracting and cute.
"Uh. Waiting for a Rowdy Ruff Boy?" he jokes awkwardly. Blossom's face morph into pure disgust and Eddie wants to melt into the floor.
"Seriously bro?" she asks with a shockingly deep voice.
Before Eddie can make his brain snap together a response, the other Power Puff Girls are running up to them.
"Steve! I hope you didn't wait long, Chris wanted to get one of those- oh. Hello," Buttercup says, when she notices him. Bubbles' blonde hair is very real, and very cute pulled into pigtails. Buttercup seems to have just dyed hers black for the occasion.
"Hi," Eddie says lamely. He waves at them, for some reason.
Buttercup gasps. "Are you hitting on him? We can leave and come back. Come on, babe," she says, grabbing Buttercup's hand.
"Don't fuck this up!" Bubbles says as she's pulled away.
"Oh my god, ignore them. What did you say?" Steve, apparently, asks. Eddie wants to crawl in a hole and die. He can just feel Gareth laughing behind him.
"It's was a joke. You know, the Rowdy Rough Boys?" Steve doesn't seem to know, so he adds, "the evil boy version of the Power Puff Girls?"
Steve looks down at his clothes as some kind of recognition dawns on his face. "Oh! Shit dude, I haven't seen the show. Rob and her girlfriend just really needed a Blossom."
This is usually the point Eddie would tease Steve about being a poser, but he looks so sincere (and his biceps are so distracting) that his game is totally out of shape. A guy who would don a skirt for his friends? A man after his own heart! He half wants to make up an excuse and leave to save himself from further shame, but he's too enticed by the cute moles on Steve's jaw that he lets himself suffer a little longer.
Steve looks him up and down and asks, "so what are you supposed to be?"
Eddie looks down at his ripped jeans and says, "...me."
He's internally kicking himself for leaving his own outfit in the hotel room.
Steve smiles up at him in a way that shows off his makeup. "Well it's working for you. You know when you first came up to me I thought you were asking me if I wanted to get rough with you."
Eddie laughs awkwardly, cheeks burning, because bombing an interaction this badly is exactly the kind of thing the universe would demand of him. Steve just stares at him. Eddie stares back awkwardly, wondering what he's supposed to even say. He can see Buttercup and Bubbles a few feet away, mouthing something at him combined with a collection of hand gestures he doesn't really understand. Steve sighs. Then he flicks the wig in a way that's kind of flirty and says, "that was an invitation, dude. You gonna take it or sit there and keep staring at my tits?"
And Eddie does take the invitation, thank you very much.
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"Would you love me if I was a crab?"
The responses are immediate and exactly what Ed should have expected: Stede's eyes go big, he offers a wide smile and his voice goes high and indulging as he says, "Of course! I would make a special little tank for you--"
Izzy, on his other side, rolls his eyes and says nothing at all.
There are a few crabs scuttling along this stretch of beach, washed ashore by a storm last night. They're still trying to get their bearings and make their way back to sea, presumably. Ed has counted four of them as they walk. He doesn't know if they're the kind of crabs you eat. He doesn't know if there's such a thing as crabs you can't eat.
Stede is still talking.
"Of course, we would have to make sure that the water is of the right salinity, and it might be hard to communicate, but perhaps we could invent some form of semaphore involving pincers--" Here he forms his hands into two approximations of claws and snaps his thumbs against his fingers repeatedly. "Snap snap. Something like that."
"No way to live," Izzy says then, and when Ed looks at him it seems like even he's surprised he spoke. He looks uneasy with it, like the thought had escaped rather than being released. He's been walking somewhat separate, his pace matching that of Ed and Stede but several feet further up the beach where the sand isn't so damp. Stede has had his arm looped through Ed's and they've been walking in lockstep, murmuring to each other about the lovely bright morning sun and the crisp smell of the ocean, and about Stede's newly-bought swim-cover he's wearing and about lunch. Come to think, this is the first time Ed has heard Izzy speak all morning.
"What's that, dear?" Stede asks, still distracted by his own hands. He mutters something to himself that sounds like And this could mean I'm hungry as he pokes his pinched hands towards his stomach.
"In a tank," says Izzy. His arms are folded against his body, he's turned towards Ed and Stede and the calm surf washing up the beach. The sun hits his eyes and makes them look brighter, green like seaglass. "If you were a...crab."
"Say I wanted to live in a tank?" Ed mutters, feeling weirdly defensive. "If Stede wanted to put me in a tank and keep me safe--"
"No way to live," Izzy says, shrugging. "Might be nice for a little while, but you'd get bored in a tank. You'd start trying to escape, try to wedge your pincers through the lid of--" He moves his hands for a moment, almost as though to pantomime like Stede, then scowls at himself at stops. Shrugs again. "We couldn't keep you."
"Would we know it was you?" Stede asks then, like this is crucial information. Ed doesn't know why the conversation has taken this turn, even though he was the one to ask, but he feels like his heart might break a little if they can't come to a consensus about what to do with Crab-Ed.
"Yeah," says Ed, "You'd know it was me because it would be like...a sea-witch curse or something."
"Oh! Well then we would just find a way to break the curse." Stede nods, smiling sagely and confident in his wisdom.
"You can't," Ed says, hurriedly and suddenly nervous. "It's permanent. Can't break it, I'm gonna be a crab forever."
"Would you still think like you?" Stede asks. Izzy, utterly quiet, stares towards the horizon like if he glares hard enough, the sun will descend from the sky and end the conversation.
"Yeah, yeah. Ed Teach brain, tiny crab body."
"Well that complicates it--"
"Why are we talking about this again?" Izzy mutters, still squinting towards the sun like it's personally insulted him. "If Edward were a crab, he'd have to do crab things. We'd do human things. End of."
Stede frowns. "Well the question wasn't about what we would do with our Ed-crab. It was would we love him."
Izzy snorts, and Ed feels a strange spike of dread right up until Izzy mutters, "Of course," in a way that says he thinks the answer is very obvious, and the question very redundant. When he realizes that Ed and Stede are both staring at him, he shifts his stance and cards a hand through his hair. Slowly, with obvious difficulty, he says, "I couldn't keep him in a tank. Wouldn't be fair. Of all people, I should know that." His eyes flick to Ed for a snap moment. Ed doesn't know what his face does, but whatever it is it's enough to relax the line between Izzy's eyebrows. "He'd have to go. But I'd remember him. I'd hope he was...happy. Doing crab things. I'd love him."
From somewhere next to Ed, the inelegant sound of Stede's sniffles breaks the moment they might have been about to have.
"That's such a sweet sentiment, Izzy," Stede says, wiping under an eye. "I was going to say that we could ask the sea-witch to turn us into crabs as well. That way we could all do crab things together."
"There's an idea," Ed says enthusiastically. "We could make a crab house and eat crab food and have crab se--"
"I'm not turning into a crab," Izzy says, and turns back to face the direction they'd come. "Are we done with this? I'm fucking starving."
He marches off, leaving Stede and Ed to walk in his now-determined wake. Obviously trying to escape the sentimentality of his own words. Ed exchanges a knowing, saccharine expression with Stede as they follow.
"Izzy?" Stede calls up to him, paces ahead and legs pumping. Izzy barks out a vague response. "Would you love me if I was a crab?"
Izzy stops and turns completely around. There is a smirk on his face and hidden laughter in his eyes.
"If you were a crab," Izzy says, "I would have a crab fucking boil, Stede Bonnet."
#OFMD#Edward Teach#Stede Bonnet#Izzy Hands#Steddyhands#Saw a post that said something about 'If soulmates are real then chances are your soulmate is a crab' and this burst out of me
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stanford pines x reader
I Believe in a Thing Called Love
summary: on the road trip to bring the kids back to california, you have to keep ford awake!
warnings: none!
word count: 749
After deciding to drive the kids back to California this year for a road trip, Ford was unlucky enough to be picked to drive overnight. Stan, Mabel, and Dipper are asleep in the backseat despite the music you were blaring to keep you awake so you can keep Ford awake.
After all, if you had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, it’d only make Ford more tired. So, you’re night driving buddies. He has a lot of catching up to do music-wise so you’ve been playing your favorite songs going up from each year.
He, to be honest, doesn’t give a shit about the music. He’s not a music person, it takes up too much time and can be distracting. He especially hates when songs are over three minutes because he thinks the singers are being selfish by taking so many minutes of his life.
But watching you while it plays? Singing and having such a great time? His heart could explode any minute now. This thing between you two hasn’t been spoken about yet. It’s only been stolen glances and a silent yearning. Neither of you believe that the other would be interested because of the slight age difference.
Nonetheless, you can flirt with him in very small ways through the songs you play.
“Can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feel. My heart's in overdrive and you're behind the steering wheel,” You place a hand on his arm that gets a smile out of him before you jokingly snake it up to his shoulder. “Touching you, touching me
Touching you, God, you're touching me.”
You sit up straighter for the chorus so happily and in shock that the people asleep in the back are still asleep.
“I believe in a thing called love. Just listen to the rhythm of my heart. There's a chance we could make it now. We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down. I believe in a thing called love, hoo, ooh-hoo.” You tap along the windows as you sing, the wind moving your hair perfectly.
“He’s not singing, he’s yelling.” Ford tells you through laughter, speaking over the music.
“You totally suck. You’re no fun.” You laugh with him as he slightly turns the volume down.
“You totally suck.” He jokingly mocks your voice and then realizes what just happened. He just acted childish for the first time in decades.
“And what do you listen to?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on. You’re not THAT boring.” You laugh and the sound is music to his ears as you slightly turn your body to face him even more. He desperately tries to keep his eyes on the road but it’s so hard when it comes to you.
“You really don’t listen to anything?” You ask, glancing over at him, curiosity in your eyes and he shrugs, trying to play it off.
“I…never made much time for it,” He admits, his voice soft. “Always had too much on my mind. Music felt like…well, like a distraction.”
“You’re allowed to be distracted every now and then, you know. Life isn’t just about… equations and discoveries and whatever else goes on in that brain of yours,” You shake your head, amused. “I’m distracted ninety percent of the time. Music is rarely the cause. It actually helps me focus sometimes. It drowns out the noises that drive me crazy like if I’m in a library, it feels like my senses are amplified. I hate hearing every push in and out of everyone’s chairs and pens writing, I need my headphones.”
“Maybe so. But I don’t think I’d ever be good at it the way you are.” He hums.
“Good at music?” You laugh, incredulous. “Ford, it’s not about being good at it. It’s about feeling it.”
Ford watches you, captivated. The way you let yourself be so free, so uninhibited—it’s something he envies, a part of life he’s never quite understood but longs to experience.
“I’m not the type of guy to ‘feel’ the sound of a bunch of different instruments.” He chuckles.
“Maybe you’re just lame then.” You gently nudge him.
“Lame? How many degrees do I need to get to not be lame?” He asks.
“Negative ten. You need to loosen up.” You tell him.
“And how do I do that?”
“I don’t know. Listen to some music.” You tell him with a small smile pulling at your lips as you lean on the window and look away.
#stanford pines x reader#gravity falls ford#gravity falls#ford pines#ford pines x reader#ford x reader#grunkle ford#stanford pines#stanford x reader#Spotify
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I keep thinking about Ascended Aldriin, how he built an empire then took it all. I am assuming he did it through poison and being dramatic, since he can and probably did orchestrate it all to appear as an accident.
*However*, my brain won't leave me alone about this. Astarion is still alive, he's just trapped in Aldriin's hair like the most whiny hair pin.
Keep your friends close and your enemies/former lovers closer lmaoooo
I've seen the "spawn tav poisons ascended astarion to free theirself" thing go around a couple times and I think people underestimate how hard it would be to take down a vampire ascendant at full power. BG3 doesn't show us this so I can't really blame folks who aren't familiar with the 5e vampire statblock. A full vampire regenerates 20HP per turn (ascendant likely more) and if you do drop it to 0, it turns to mist and goes back to its coffin to recover. Both of these are normally halted by sunlight or running water, but the ascendant doesn't have those weaknesses! You would want one of those "dies immediately at 0HP" spells like Immolate or Disintegrate, and you better make sure you've burnt through the vampire's Legendary Resistance first. Like there's good reason Ascended Astarion is so full of himself, he can brute force through most encounters.
There's also that if you Disintegrated Ascended Astarion, well there goes all the power of the Ascendant and all those 7000 souls were condemned for nothing. That's just wasteful, and Aldiirn doesn't like waste. Aldiirn's going to find out about the Rite of Perfect Slaughter, and use that to take the power Astarion's been misusing. And he's going to do it in front of everyone.
Astarion wants all the power and glory, debauchery and hedonism, not be bogged down with paperwork and boring drudgery it takes to run an empire. He's content to leave that to Aldiirn who does it so well. Astarion gets so complacent he doesn't realise he's become a figurehead while Aldiirn makes all the decisions. The soirees and galas are perfect for distracting Astarion and giving cover to the favours Aldiirn calls in. The only reaction Astarion's disappearance in the middle of the party gets is shrugs. The empire moves on without a hiccup. There's more relief that he's gone than anything.
One way I do think a poison would be handy is a paralytic, one of those ones that provokes multiple saves. Vampires don't have any condition immunities and it would burn through Legendary Resistance. I can definitely see Aldiirn using that to get Astarion in place for the Rite of Perfect Slaughter. He'd still call on help since being a spawn, under Astarion's control, makes him vulnerable there.
Honestly I love this AU and so want to do something with it but I don't want to lose momentum with canon comics. So many ideas only two hands…
How does the Rite of Perfect Slaughter work? I don't know but I have a few thoughts mulling around. I think a setup similar to the black mass would be fitting. Basically mug Astarion at the party and get him in the basement for the rite. Astarion became like Cazador, he deserves to go out like Cazador.
Aldiirn's inner circle would definitely know he usurped Astarion. To the rest he gives some statement about an untimely passing. People offer condolences and move on quick. Main point is that no one would care about Astarion being gone. There'd more likely be cheering. Ascended Astarion is like ol' musko - thinks he's hot shit but knows nothing and the only enterprises he has that thrive are the ones built on keeping him distracted like a toddler. Now that Ascended Aldiirn doesn't need to waste resources on distracting his former master, he can start amassing some real political and economical power. Treat all of Baldur's Gate like a puppet show.
He misses the Underdark.
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first meeting! - tabito karasu;
synopsis: karasu thinks ur really cute, but what do u mean u know all his teammates and not him?
wc: 1k
warnings: fem!reader, karasu is a little jealous, like miniscule. not proofread.
a/n: well well well.. my first blue lock drabble and it's karasu?! not kunigami or oliver? eh? anyways, i couldn't get this out of my head! i'm a lil nervous, but i just wanted to humble him rq. i love him loads tho and umm, if this is ooc.. oops.
the first time you meet tabito karasu, he’s sitting in a cafe, sipping on a cup of coffee, watching his best friend flirt with another group of girls. he swivels his cup, staring as he swishes the remnants of his drink before he sets it down.
“there he goes again,” he mumbles, leaning on one hand, staring at the cafe patio. karasu won’t lie, he’s a little bored, but otoya can’t help himself whenever there’s a girl around, even more so when there’s a pack. he does think it’s a little funny to see them swarm him though, asking for autographs or pictures together, as he hears snippets of “i saw your match vs the u-20!”
he wonders how otoya does it, thinking about draining it would be if he had to pretend to be nice to girls he didn’t particularly care about. he’s brought back to earth by the sound of your voice, “more coffee?”
“sure,” he says, eyes still trained on the crowd outside. it’s mostly quiet besides the sound of coffee being poured into his cup.
“oh! its that guy,” you exclaim and karasu finally peels his eyes off of them to look up at you. he blinks, caught off guard for a second. oh.. you’re cute. “otoya eita. he played in the recent blue lock vs u-20 match, right?”
“oh, uh, yep,” he says, but his heart jumps in his chest when you make eye contact with him. he straightens up a little, thinking it’s lame, but for the first time he can’t come up with much to say.
“man, he was so cool! ah, the way he moved down the field was kinda dreamy.” you ramble, setting the kettle down on the table, “oh and um, yo hiori? he was pretty cool too. i don’t really follow soccer but my friends do. did you watch it?”
he waits for you to make a comment about him too, but he’s stumped as you continue to ramble about otoya and the rest of his teammates. the question you ask is the final slap in the face and he wants to be rude, wants to ask if you have eyes, like working eyes, but he bites his tongue. maybe you'll remember if he helps you.
“er, actually, i played in it,” he responds, a nice, easy going smile on his face, “i was pretty important too.” confidence blooms in his chest as he says it. clearly, you’ll remember now, evident by the way your eyes go wide and your mouth hangs open slightly. but that grin is wiped clear off his face when you respond:
“really?” you shrug, “i didn’t notice you.”
karasu can’t find any words to say, his brain short-circuiting partly due to the fact that he thinks you’re the cutest person he’s ever seen and second, that you can remember hiori of all people. he’s slack jawed, with his brow furrowed, as you tilt your head with an audible, “hmm,” as you think.
you shake your head, your fist coming into contact with your open palm, “nope. i’d definitely recognize rin itoshi and yoichi isagi.” you blink, lashes fluttery as you ask, “were you on the bench?”
“nope.”
“were you subbed in?”
“played the entire match.” he says, trying to give another smile, but it’s strained now and there’s a definite vein on his face.
“jersey number?”
“six.”
you shake your head once again, chirping, “nope! doesn’t ring a bell at all.”
in a final act of desperation, he’s about to give you his name, but your manager calls for you before he can. you politely excuse yourself, shouting, “coming!” before you’re grabbing the kettle and scurrying off.
otoya comes back within a few minutes, sitting down, before leaning back and going through his phone. he glances at karasu, who sits there for the second time today, slack jawed and staring; he can’t believe that actually just happened. otoya’s eyes trail over to where he’s looking, it’s you, taking orders and making drinks.
“she’s cute,” he says, “think she’ll give me her number?”
taken out of his trance, karasu grits his teeth, annoyed that that’s the first thing out of otoya’s mouth and, that yeah, you would give him your number.
“didn’t ya just get a ton, outside?” he spits and otoya nods. “so then why’d ya need hers?”
“because she’s a girl.” he replies and karasu sighs.
“whatever, lets get outta here.” he signals for the check and to his dismay and slight delight, it’s you who brings it over.
“hi,” otoya says as you set it down, taking his phone out. “can i have your number?”
karasu rolls his eyes as you giggle out a “sure!”, but the sound gets his heart fluttering. he tries his best not to see you in his peripheral, trying to block out the way you lean down closer to otoya. as he grabs the checkbook, a slip of paper falls out and figuring it’s his copy of the check, he slips it into his pocket. he doesn’t notice the way your mouth curls up a little wider when he does that.
when they’re finished paying, the two walk out, the bell on the door chiming, followed by your “thanks for coming!” otoya wastes no time sending you a text. “jackpot,” he says, before sending some texts to the girls he met earlier.
karasu ignores him, opting to stick his hands in his pockets, feeling the slip of paper. he pulls it out, opening it up, trying to find something of interest, before he stops mid-step. it wasn’t his copy of the check. instead its your number, alongside a note that reads:
hehe. i know who you are, tabito karasu. you played defensive midfield. i wasn’t planning on teasing you like that, but then i would’ve had to admit you were my favorite player that match. btw, your accent is very cute.♡
he glances back at the cafe he was just in with a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his head. otoya tilts his head, asking, “you coming?” but karasu’s head is stuck in the clouds, broken out in full grin.
he’s completely smitten.
#blue lock#blue lock fluff#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#blue lock x reader#karasu tabito#karasu tabito x reader#pibby writing#i feel like u can tell i busted this out in under 6 hours but its ok.
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🔪 for Chris!
🔪 Awake surgery
CW: Referenced hand whump, blood, sadism, reluctant whumper, facility whump, BBU
"You have got to be joking." The doctor dried his hands off on the single-use towel he held, watching through the one-way window as the trainee inside sat, shaking his head at a nurse who was speaking to him in a low voice. He shook it less like he was saying no and more like he was simply denying that she was speaking at all. "Him again? What the fuck is Petrus doing to this kid? It's only been, what, four days since I got him out of the clinic in the first place!"
"I mean, you know what he does to him, he's one of the little sluts." The handler rolls his eyes. "Petrus fucks him stupid, not that any of them have brains to begin with. But this time 223499 dropped a glass during his Mixology class. Can't pin it this one on Petrus, it's all on 499 being a little bitch again. His Mixology instructor says he's a clumsy little shit."
"Great. Okay." Dr. Ross has a headache already. He hates this place, hates the crude, aggressive handlers and the way they talk about - and to - the trainees. He hates sewing the injured trainees up only to see them again, with new wounds needing dressed and new terror in their eyes. He hates everything about this job except the paycheck.
He can't wait to get another job and get the hell out of here.
The Facility gets to him - it works its way down under his skin, seeing the haunted, nervous way the trainees looked around all the time, trying to guess where pain would come from next. Trying to curry favor, to avoid the torture constantly forced on them anyway. He's been seeing their frightened faces and hearing them beg in his dreams far too often. "So he's here because..."
"It's a deep cut." The handler shrugs. "He needs stitches."
Dr. Ross looks back at the trainee. 223499 is holding perfectly still while the nurse turns his hand over. His palm is a mess of blood, darker than the new-penny shine of his hair. The trainee's stained fingers twitch nervously.
He's just a kid.
The same kid who'd automatically gone to his knees just a week ago, ready to do whatever he was commanded to, thoughtless obedience making the doctor's stomach turn.
He has to get out of here.
Dr. Ross swallows, feeling like there's a lump in his throat he just can't quite get rid of it. "Fine. I'll prep something to numb his hand, we'll give him a little bit of-"
"Nah." The handler shrugs, looking bored. "His primary's got a note on his file, didn't you see it? No painkillers for three weeks. Not even topical."
Dr. Ross watches 223499 flinch away from the nurse, who slaps him, making him cry out. The sound is muffled through the one-way window. As is the apology the boy provides immediately, stammering through it, only to be slapped again. This time, he doesn't cry out. He only cringes back, hunching into himself, and keeps his eyes down.
It makes Dr. Ross feel sick.
"... fine," He says, realizing the silence is drawing out too long. "I'll get him sewn up. He can go back to his room once it's done. Tell Petrus to leave him alone for one night, at least?"
The handler snorts with dry humor. "Yeah, good luck on that. But I'll tell him you said so. You want me to help you strap him down?"
Dr. Ross doesn't let himself look at the trainee again. "Yeah. Come in and strap him down while I prep."
"You got it, Doc." The handler gives him a lazy salute.
The kid doesn't fight being strapped down, but it doesn't matter. Once the work begins, the kid's back arches, he screams and thrashes wordlessly, then... even worse, he makes noises after like he's dying, low moaning sounds that seem barely human. He's shuddering, whispering apologies when all he'd done was drop a glass and try to clean it up too fast.
Dr. Ross goes home that night with the trainee's screaming in his ears. He hears the sounds the kid makes once the needle goes into his skin all weekend in his nightmares.
On Monday, he emails his resignation, effective immediately.
He's smart enough to have a one-way ticket booked for a country WRU isn't operating in before anyone reads it.
#chris the strawberry blond romantic#223499#facility whump#bbu#box boy#box boy whump#box boy universe#referenced hand whump#sadistic whumper#reluctant whumper
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How do you think Effie and haymitch met?
Hi anon! And thanks for asking! (mini-oneshot, under the cut) I always imagined Effie being Haymitch’s second escort when she was a young woman and he was a sorta young man. On the train to Twelve, new on the job, she’s very “first day of school! First day of school!” and eager to make a difference sort of like Sejanus Plinth. She’s ambitious and driven and also naive enough to think “with me on board we will have victors left and right!” Before the Reaping she decides on her own to visit the Victor’s Village and introduce herself personally to her now co-worker. She’s quite star-struck I think, on the way over there - what with the romanticized image the Capitol has of him. Obviously she doesn’t know the truth about Haymitch’s murdered family. No one really does in her city. She’s also super impressed that he won The Second Quarter Quell - one of the most difficult Games in Panem's history, and without a mentor at that! She’s probably a little smitten too (or at least she was as a young girl). Taken by those dark curls and intense gray eyes in a sort of “toughened by life but love will set him free” kind of way. But when she actually finally meet Mr. Haymitch Abernathy he effectively smashes all the illusions Effie ever had of him in less than five minutes. She goes from dazzled to disbelieving to annoyed and they end up having the first of many arguments. I imagine it went something like this:
Standing there in the middle of the kitchen Effie felt the mentor’s eyes travel up and down her body. He held a bottle of spirits in one hand, elbows on the unbelievably filthy table. And in the other, a knife - an actual KNIFE! “Who sent you?” he finally asked. “It ain’t m’birthday.” The shadow of a crease re-appeared between Effie’s eyebrows but then the smile was right back on. “Mr. Abernathy!” She stepped forward and extended a hand. “Euphemia. Euphemia Trinket, the new escort. My friends call me Effie. You can call me Effie if you want. Delighted to make your acquaintance and might I just add what an honor it is to finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you! I’m sure we’re going to make the most fabulous of teams!” Haymitch ignored the outstretched hand. Instead he brought the bottle to his lips, having a few good mouthfuls. “What happened to Dandruff?" he asked in a bored voice. "Ol’ bat finally bit the dust?" “Mrs Dandridge decided to retire. I’m here in her place. Arrived just a few days ago, and my, am I already in LOVE with your … your … quaint district.” “I know right,” he mimicked her voice, dripping with sarcasm. He poured a good amount of the clear liquid into a cracked glass full of sticky fingerprints and extended it to her. “Well, this calls for a toast, don't ya think? Bottom’s up, lil’ lady." “Um, tempting but no thank you,” she said. “I don’t make it a habit of drinking when I'm at work. Especially not this early. Got to keep a level head," she thrilled. "A big big big day today!” Haymitch tsked, eyes on the ceiling. "I'd say." And he downed the drink for her. “Guess this is my lucky day, huh? They finally got rid of ol’ Ice Crotch and now a squeaky lil’ duckling fresh out of the egg’s gonna help me out.” “W-wha … excuse me? Duckling? Squeaky?! I think you’ll find me more than qualified for the job. I graduated from the Academy at the top of my class!” “Yeah, takes a lot o’ brains to send kids off for slaughter.” Effie stared at him. “B-being chosen to participate in The Hunger Games - the biggest event of the year, is a great honor and …” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he snarled. “Save it for the cameras, why don’t ya?” At a loss for words Effie watched the man finish his bottle, down to the last drop, only to reach for the next. “The Reaping is in an hour,” she said. “So?" “So maybe you ought to slow down? And I trust it you’ll freshen up before then? Take a shower and find an outfit that’s a little more, um, suitable for the … special occasion.” “Meh,” Haymitch shrugged. “Haven’t decided if I’m gonna go.” “You have to go!” The words burst from her lips before she could stop them. “You’re expected! I’ll look like a fool!” In reply, Haymitch snapped the seal on the bottle. With one expert twist. “Don’t need me for something you already accomplished, sweetheart.” He tipped the liquor into his mouth. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”
#anon ask reply#hayffie#some headcanons and a lil' ficlet#haymitch x effie#the hunger games renaissance
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Star baby when you have time could we please have more of the title screen fic? I’m so invested in what you’re going to do with eddie being the streamer Steve has been watching, will eddie say something on his streams that lets Steve know it’s eddie? Will steve keep coming back to the game store to play/ hang out with eddie? This is a cute one you could do a million parts and I would be on board for every one 💜
Darling! I’m SO sorry to keep you waiting!! Hopefully this meets your expectations. ❤️
Title Screen - Part 2
Steve doesn’t come back in just for Eddie, he swears.
It doesn’t hurt, of course, that Eddie lights up when the little bell above the door jingles. “Steve!” He grins. “Hey, what’re you here for?”
Steve flushes down to his toes, it feels like. “Feel free to tell me if I’m abusing some policy or whatever-”
Eddie waves him off and over to the console. “It’s still set up for you! Any plans for today?”
“I’d like to fish,” Steve admits. “Maybe trade with someone.”
Eddie hums. “Your first step in world domination?”
Steve snorts. “Exactly.”
They talk as Steve plays, and Eddie is even able to help him some.
Steve adamantly does not think about the thump in his chest every time he makes Eddie laugh.
He goes back home later and gets back on YouTube. His traitorous brain is deciding to take Eddie’s knowledge as a challenge, so he finds HFClub again and clicks on the next video he hasn’t seen.
“Oh, Dingus,” Robin sings, appearing in his doorway. She grins, a self-satisfied smirk of a thing, when she hears the audio. “Caesar salad sound good for dinner?”
Steve hums, pauses the video, lets his phone drop onto his chest. “D’you want me to help chop things?”
Robin smiles at him. “If you cut the chicken I’ll love you forever.”
Steve snorts, rolls his eyes. “You just don’t like touching raw chicken.”
“It’s slimy!” Robin defends herself. She flaps her hand at him as she turns to head to the kitchen. “Bring your phone, I wanna see what you’re watching, too.”
Steve snorts again, but does as she asks. The video plays, then the next one, and at one point the narrator laughs, and something about it sounds familiar. He wonders if he’s thinking of Robin’s laugh, but hers is rather nasally and giggly, and while the narrator’s is definitely a giggle, it’s got a little snort at the end that Robin doesn’t have.
He wonders if it sounds like one of his kids, but nothing’s ringing a bell, so he finally lets it go in favor of letting Robin’s rambling wash over him.
He restrains himself the next day—the next week, really—but eventually he does have to go back.
Eddie’s there again, grinning at him through the window. “Hey, Steve!” He bounces over and leans against a shelf. “And what brings you in today? More world domination?”
Steve laughs. “Maybe,” he allows. “I’m actually here for Dustin’s birthday present, and I’m hoping you can help, even if you don’t have it. He was talking about some kind of figurine, the last time we talked? Something based on one of your campaigns, I think.”
“Oh!” Eddie grins and scampers further into the shop. “The Hellrider Badge!” He digs through a bin and holds something up. “Not a figurine, it’s for his costume. And may I suggest…” he digs through another bin and unearths a pouch, opening it and pouring coins into his hand. “Barovian coins!”
Steve blinks and holds out his hand, looking at the badge and coins before smiling up at Eddie. “I’m gonna admit, I have no idea what any of this is for, but I’m willing to trust you.” He hands the items back to Eddie, who grins and takes them behind the counter.
“High praise, I’ll try my best to live up to it. You wanna pay now and go? Or I can hold these for later… maybe after a certain game?”
Steve chuckles. “How bored do you get here?”
Eddie shrugs. “It’s usually pretty empty. It definitely has its moments, though.”
Steve snorts. “I don’t doubt it.” He wanders over to the counter. “What’s your craziest story?”
Eddie hums in thought. “Probably the time that one guy threatened arson because we didn’t have what he wanted.”
Steve’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I believe his exact words were I’ll burn this place to the ground. And he wasn’t kidding, either, we had to get the police involved. Thankfully this was back when my uncle still worked here, so it wasn’t just one of us here with Psycho, y’know?”
“Your uncle used to work here? That’s cool.”
“I- yeah? He- I- um.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, blush rising on his cheeks. “He owned it? And then I took over when he retired.”
Steve laughs. “So that’s why you’re always here!”
Eddie chuckles. “Was that question plaguing you? You could’ve asked.”
Steve just shrugs, smirking as he says, “it added to the mystery.”
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#eventual steddie#titlescreen#asks#my asks#writing#starambles
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Wicked Sensation
part fifteen // billy hargrove x f!reader
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen
masterlist (i accept requests)
a/n: thanks for reading!! i plan on this being about 20 chapters so we’re nearing the end, my loves.
word count: 5.1k
warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, choking, name calling, angst, pregnancy, abortion mention, more smut
taglist: @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh @likeanimagepassingby2
The surfing goes much better week two. Every morning, 5 AM sharp for six days straight. You get a better idea of how to plant your feet and you actually manage to catch two waves, squealing when you do it as Billy cheers you on. He praises you for it the whole morning while you two sit at a picnic table, enjoying breakfast burritos.
“That was awesome, you totally killed it out there,” he exclaims, beaming up at you.
You shrug, “I just have a great teacher.”
“Oh, wow, I’d love to meet him, maybe he can give him some pointers,” Billy chides, trying to mask the smirk threatening his lips.
“I’ll introduce you. He’s super hot, too. I was thinking about asking him for some other kinds of lessons,” you tease with a wiggle of your eyebrows.
Billy snorts, “You think he’s skilled in those other ways?”
“Oh yeah,” you bellow, “most definitely.”
The smirk finally breaks through, his eyes twinkle with it as he asks, “And how do you know?”
With a shrug, you bite your lip and say, “I can just tell, ya know? Can see it in his eyes.”
Billy lets out a smug laugh, fishing his keys out of his pocket and dangling them in front of your face, “Let’s go find out.”
“Yes, sir,” you purr, following behind to the car.
He’s on you in an instant when you’re back at the room, thrusting you against the door and boring his eyes into your own. The two of you are sticky from salt water and sweat but you don’t care, tasting it on Billy’s skin as you lick and suck his neck. His hands fumbling while he rips off your swimsuit top, like his brain is working too quickly and they’re struggling to keep up. You let out a giggle and Billy glares at you under his thick lashes, moving his thumb and forefinger to viciously pinch your nipple and pull it.
“Ouch!” you yelp, smacking his shoulder, “Asshole.”
“Bitch,” Billy spits through a playful smirk.
You melt at the insult, not really ready to analyze why. Nevertheless, you squeeze your thighs together as you fail to suppress a whimper.
Billy grins wide at that, his hand circling your throat and forcing you to tilt your head back. “You like when I call you names?” he inquires with that low and sultry voice of his.
You bite your lip, unwilling to admit it out loud. Unsure if it was in general or just Billy that made you like it. He squeezes your throat a little bit, enough to make you gasp but not enough to truly inhabit your airways.
“Of course you do,” he grovels, “You’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you?”
Groaning, your eyes roll back as you feel your wetness surge out and coat the skimpy swimsuit bottoms you have on. He lets out a sadistic cackle, shoving his fingers in your mouth and forcing his knee between your thighs. You loved that sickly laugh. It was so mean yet so thrilled. You show him your appreciation by sucking on the digits resting on your tongue, making sure you’re sloppy with it, wanting Billy to see the spit leaking from the corners of your lips.
“Jesus,” he exhales, in awe of the pornographic display. “That’s a good girl,” he coos, shoving his fingers in deeper and you gag on them, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Uh-uh,” he scolds, “Open. Look at me.”
You obey, a slave to his commands. The wicked grin on his face makes you squirm, rutting your core against the bottom of his thigh. The friction is marvelous so you involuntarily repeat the motion, desperately humping his thigh. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop, placing his hands on his hip to observe your movements.
“Look at you,” he exclaims, aghast. “I haven’t even fucking done anything and you’re absolutely fiending for it.”
“Billy,” you whimper, wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand. “Gimme.”
He raises an eyebrow, looking from your eyes to where you’re grinding against his thigh, “I bet I don’t even need to do anything. Bet you could cum from this.”
“But I want—“ you grunt, hitting your clit in just the right way to distract yourself from the sentence, the words dissolving before they can make it out.
“Want my cock?” Billy teases, his tone annoyingly condescending, “I don’t think you need it.”
You gasp, glaring up at him but not relenting in your movements against his thigh. “Gimme,” you repeat and he gives you the same dumbfounded look as before as he remains unmoving.
“No,” he says, nonchalantly and crosses his arms.
You give a frustrated whine, furrowing your eyebrows up at him.
“What? If you can act like a brat then so can I,” he retorts.
“M’not a brat,” you pout, reaching for his arms so you can pull him close, but Billy’s stronger than you and he doesn’t budge.
“Are too,” he smirks.
You glance down to his red shorts, seeing the tent pitched in them before looking back up into his eyes, “You want it just as bad as I do.”
Your voice is shaky though you meant that to come off firm and proud. He chuckles, uncrossing his arms to place a hand next to your head on the door, jerking his knee back and dropping his foot. You whimper as a complaint from the abandonment of pressure.
“You need to learn a lesson about patience,” he mutters against your lips, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers while his eyes lock onto yours.
“And I’ll teach you that lesson. Just not today,” he grabs you by your ass, lifting you up and your legs wrap around his waist instinctively.
He walks you over to the dresser, pushing your makeup and hair products to the floor before setting your bum on top it. His fingers make quick work of your bottoms, sending them to land next to the beauty products and stepping back to rid himself of his swim trunks, his cock confidently bouncing free from them. You eye him hungrily, the curves of his muscles leading down to his member are gorgeous and you selfishly feel like you don’t get to ogle him quite enough. Admiring the slight right curve to his cock, you realize maybe that’s why he hits your spot in the most incredible way. You believe there’s no one sculpted quite as beautiful as him. He spits into his hand before fisting his cock with long and slow strokes, eyes feasting on your heat determinedly.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he breaths, taking his fingers to spread your lips apart so he can gaze at the glistening folds and the eager hole awaiting him.
You whine out, fingers gripping on the edge of the dresser fiercely, knuckles turning white. He slowly drags his tip through your slit, coating it with your slick. His throbbing head circles your entrance and he goes to push it inside but pulls back instead, making you cry out in frustration. His lips spread into a mischievous grin and his teasing only makes you wetter, your thighs shaking in anticipation. He repeats the motion a few times and when you’re about ready to slap him, groaning angrily, he slams inside of you with a guttural grunt.
You yelp, feeling the mound of blonde curls tickling your bare skin as you’re completely filled to the brim with his thick cock. His tip presses against your cervix as he jerks his hips forward, as if trying to get deeper in there and you yelp again, squeezing your eyes shut at the stinging yet hot pain. You expect him to ease up but instead he grabs your hips and angles them up as he thrusts again.
“Billy!” you cry out, your right hand moving to his stomach to try and push him back.
“What?” he asks, feigning concern but it’s lost in the patronization, “Am I too big for you?”
God, he’s such a dick and fuck, it’s so hot.
You can’t respond, the steady rhythm of his hips sends moans tumbling from your lips instead. Your fingers graze down to your clit, aching for release but Billy slaps them away, giving you a disappointed look. He wants you to know he’s got complete and utter control of you and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Alternatively, you focus on the feeling of his dragging against your walls and how wonderful his breath smells as it hits your face, minty and something so particularly specific to him.
He grunts, grabbing onto the back of your knee and spreading your legs further. You’re able to ignore the dull ache of your muscles by occupying your mind with how his girth stretches you out delightfully. You grab onto his shoulder to steady you, feeling like you might turn to jello and fall to the floor beneath him.
He lowers his lips to your ear, “You take my cock so good, baby. Your pussy is so tight, feels so good.”
You have no clue how his voice can be so solid during this, though his words aren’t the most original. If you spoke, you know your voice would break. You moan softly in response, toes trying to grasp on the drawers of the dresser, working to keep your legs up. Billy brushes his cheek against yours, causing you to clench around him. His thrusts falter then, chuckling exasperatedly as he tries to correct his flow. You smile proudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and turning your face to kiss him.
He picks up his pace, drilling into you so hard the dresser slams into the wall over and over. You moan out incessantly, the tempo exactly where you want it to be as he hits your g-spot rhythmically. Your toes struggle to grip on the drawers and your knee buckles, your leg dropping but Billy catches it, lifting it so your thigh presses against his waist. Deciding to make this easier, you wrap your legs around him and lean back so your elbows rest on the top of the dresser and your shoulders are pressed against the wall.
Billy grins, looking down to see your tits bouncing with every thrust. As if he decides you’ve earned it, he licks the pad of his thumb and presses it against your clit, working it in quick circles.
“Fuck!” you moan out breathlessly, bringing your hand up to fondle your breast and stroking your nipple with a finger. The blonde watches you in fascination, his mouth agape and eyes glassy. Seeing him totally captivated by you rushes the intense pressure in the pit of your stomach to fruition, your orgasm exploding from you in an astronomical eruption.
“Ah, Billy, yes!” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut as you see waves and bursts of colors.
You clench around him tightly, your body jolting up and seizing.
Billy whimpers out your name, grabbing you and pulling your body against his. You feel as he empties into you, hot and thick. Your eyes cross at the added pleasure, clinging onto his back and squeezing your thighs around his waist. He pulls out, looking between your bodies and then pushes his cum back into you when it dares to leak out. You jerk at the sensation, moaning softly and Billy kisses your sweaty forehead, then the tip of your nose and finally, your lips. You hum, kissing him back gratefully.
He lifts you up and you hold on tightly as he walks you to the shower and you do it all over again.
-
You and Billy are lounging on the bed, watching Unsolved Mysteries with take-out containers scattered around. You loved moments like these, carefree and just living with each other. Doing something you’d do alone but with your favorite person. It’s easy and you think about what Billy said about Neil kicking him out. You think obviously you’ll find a place together and live in perfect harmony.
“Introducing Ultra Pampers new boxes in 48 and 32. The diaper with the ultra thin lock away core,” the commercial sounds out, “So dry you can pour on the wetness but you can’t squeeze it out. Ultra Pampers! Now in boxes of 48 and 32!”
You chew on the orange chicken, watching as the blue liquid is poured onto the diaper and then it hits you. You can see the image of your birth control container forgotten on your nightstand at home. Your stomach rises into your throat and you drop your fork. How the hell could you forget? You hadn’t missed a day since Junior year.
“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, trying to remember if your period was already late. When you do the math, you should’ve gotten it five days ago. You can’t even count the amount of times Billy’s cum inside you since the trip started.
“I know,” Billy groans, “Like it’s clearly not pee but do they really gotta ring out the diaper like that?”
You turn to him, a bewildered look on your face. You feel sick to your stomach, scared to even admit to him that you haven’t taken your birth control in two weeks. You just stand up and excuse yourself to the bathroom to splash water in your face. Your dad and Mary will kill you. And fuck, with the way Mary is, you’re sure she’s gone into your room and seen that you forgot the contraceptive. You will yourself not to cry. You don’t even know if you’ve got a reason to yet.
Opening the door, you lean against its frame, “Is there a pharmacy near by?”
You recall seeing one down the block but want to make sure,
Billy shovels noodles into his mouth and turns to you, talking with his mouthful, “Yeah, there’s an Osco.”
“Chew your food first,” you say, smiling at him. You were panicked but Billy was still adorable.
He covers his mouth as he laughs, then chews and swallows. “There’s an Osco a block down,” he says, “Lemme finish eating and I’ll take you.”
You shake your head, “No, I’ll walk. I think I need some fresh air.”
Billy tilts his head at you, “You sure? I don’t mind, babe. What do you need?”
You rush to think of an excuse, “Uh, girl stuff. I’ll walk. It’s okay, really.”
Your boyfriend settles back on the bed, shoving another forkful of chowmein into his mouth. You slip on your Reebok’s and grab your purse, walking back to Billy to give him a kiss on his stuffed cheek. He slaps your ass and mumbles a “Be safe” when you walk towards the door.
You light a cigarette once you get outside, heading in the direction you remembered seeing the pharmacy in. It’s a quick walk, lasting just as long as your Marlboro. It’s busy but the town is so foreign to you that you don’t feel embarrassed to pick up the test, looking over the box and reading over the script. You sigh, standing and when you turn, you’re face to face with Veronica. You’re not quick enough to hide the pregnancy test behind your back and she sees it, looking at you incredulously while you stare back at her wide eyed.
“Where’s Billy?” she asks, sickly sweet.
You roll your eyes, pushing past her as you’re not willing to give her the time of day. She reaches out and grabs your wrist.
“I asked you a question,” she states.
“In our room. What’s it to you?” you turn back to you.
She shrugs, “Wanted to see him. Clearly it’s not a good time,” she gestures to the test.
“Yeah, like it’s ever a good time for you to see him,” you snort and make your way to the counter.
She follows you, “Let me guess, not an excited or planned purchase?”
“What the fuck is your deal?” you turn to her, exasperated, “You don’t even know me and you and Billy haven’t seen each other in like ten months. Is he not supposed to move on with his life?”
“Like he could ever move on from me,” she laughs, “You have no idea.”
You raise the pregnancy test up to her face, “Clearly he’s moved on.”
Veronica smiles smugly, “What do you think he’s gonna do if you’re pregnant? Run. That’s the only thing he’s good at doing.”
You roll your eyes, “It’s not my problem you’re still in love with him. Now, back off.”
Turning your heels, you walk over to the line of fridges with drinks in them, grabbing a bottle of water and taking it to the counter. Veronica doesn’t let up, a step behind you, “You think you know him so well? That boy has dark secrets that would make you cringe at the thought of having his offspring.”
“You’re just mad he found someone who actually gives a shit about him,” you place the test and bottle on the counter. You know she’s a cruel, sad person because she’s pestering you when you’re clearly not having a great time. You decide if she wants to play mind games, you can too, “He wants me to have his baby, he tells me all the time.”
She just chuckles, “Yeah, he said shit like that to me too. Have fun being a single mother.”
And while the words sting, at least she walks away after them. You pay for your items and grab the bottle, downing the entire thing as quick as you can before asking the cashier, “Where’s the bathroom?”
-
Positive. You stare down at the vial with the blue liquid. You sit on the toilet and let the sob break out from your chest. You’d been sitting in here for twenty minutes, screaming impatiently when someone knocked on the door. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid and you worry that deep down a part of you wanted this to happen, as some way to try to fix the mess you and Billy were before the trip. It wasn’t a conscious decision but you hadn’t ever been so careless with your birth control before.
“Fuck,” you cry, grabbing the vial and shoving it into your purse before standing to look at yourself in the mirror.
Another knock on the door and you close your eyes and sigh, moving towards it and opening it. You snake past the woman staring down at you with an angry look on her face before making your way down the feminine hygiene aisle. You weren’t ready to tell Billy, Veronica’s words hanging over you as you grab the Tampax box and walk back over the counter, knowing full well they’d have no use for nine months.
As you step outside, you light another cigarette and look out as the sun is beginning to set against the shore. You fully expect Billy to be watching it from the lawn chairs outside the room. You do know him well, seeing him from the short distance away as the motel makes its way in your view. You toss the cigarette in the street, shoes crumbling the gravel beneath you as you stalk across the parking lot. You put on a fake smile for Billy, not mentioning the run in with his ex or the positive pregnancy test hiding in your purse.
Once you’re locked away in the bathroom, you turn on the shower to mask your sobs as you sit on the floor and cry into the steamy room. You couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not during this trip, you can’t ruin it.
When you finally emerge, he’s still outside even though the sun has set and you turn all the lights off and crawl into bed, willing for this day to be over already.
-
You manage to hide your emotions through the next two days, but when Billy drags you to the bar he can tell something is up. You ask for a Coke, telling him you don’t feel like drinking.
He shrugs, “Suit yourself, weirdo.”
If he only knew, you think as you sip the coke while he downs his shot. The place is too loud and crowded, making you feel uncomfortably hot. It’s the last place you want to be at the moment. You feel sick to your stomach, shoving your purse in his hands and excusing yourself to the bathroom.
You puke your guts out but it’s not out of place, there’s a girl in the stall over doing the same thing.
Back at the bar, Billy digs through your purse for your box of smokes and pulls out the vial. He lifts it up to the light and looks at it curiously. Jennifer gasps when she sees it and Billy looks at her bewildered, “What?”
She shoots him a worried look, “You don’t know what that is?”
Billy shakes his head, tilting it and watching the blue liquid slide to the opposite side.
“Now her not wanting to drink makes a lot of sense,” Jennifer hints but the blonde is clueless, looking at her confused.
“Come on, Billy, you’re not that dense,” she replies.
“What is it?” he inquires, genuinely wondering.
She sighs, “It’s a pregnancy test.”
Billy snaps his head towards her, remembering a commercial he’d seen; When it’s positive, it turns blue!
“Oh, fuck,” he heaves, shoving it back in your purse like it’s diseased. “Oh, god,” he panics, “Whiskey. I need whiskey.”
Jennifer obliges and he takes it quickly, “More.”
She gives him a look and he pleads with his eyes, earning him another shot.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” he wonders, looking at Jennifer with fear in his eyes.
She gestures to him, “Well who wants a reaction like that?”
Then you’re walking up, and Billy straightens up when he sees how sick you look.
“Billy, can we go? I don’t feel well,” you plead, grabbing onto his arm.
“Yeah, babe…” he reaches for his wallet and Jennifer holds a hand up.
“No need. Get her home,” she says and Billy guides you to the car with his hand on your back.
You lock yourself in the bathroom once you’re back at the room and Billy digs through your purse and grabs the vial again and places it on the nightstand. When you open the door, you see it and him sitting on the bed with a look of worry. You feel your stomach churn again and you scramble back for solace in the porcelain bowl. Billy sits next to you, gathering your hair in one hand as he rubs your back with the other. He lets you get it out, helping you stand when you want to rinse your mouth out. He guides you to the bed and helps peel your clothes off, discarding them in a heap on the floor. He lays beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck. It’s so sweet, you feel bad for not telling him the second you suspect you might be pregnant.
“I’m sorry,” you sob out, “I don’t know how I could be so careless.”
Billy shushes you and rubs your belly, “Don’t apologize.”
You hiccup, “What are we gonna do?”
He sighs, kissing your jaw and squeezing you gently, “I don’t know… we’ll figure it out. We have some time.”
“Billy,” you whimper, turning into him and crying against his chest. He pulls you close and kisses your head, rubbing your back. “I’m so sorry… I don’t know how it happened but I just totally forgot my birth control at home and I,” you sob, “I… I didn’t even realize until we saw that stupid diaper commercial.”
He squeezes you tighter, “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” you cry, “Mary’s gonna kill me… and your dad… what’s your dad gonna do?”
Billy hadn’t even thought about that, he feels panic rising in his chest and he blurts it out, “Well, are we keeping it?”
You pull back, looking up at him, “I don’t think we can afford to get a…” you can’t even say it, “I mean, this trip has kind of wiped me out financially.”
“Yeah, me too,” he grumbles and pushes your hair back. He wants to lighten the mood so bad, hates to see you crying in this context. “I bet you’re gonna look so cute with a big ol’ pregnant belly.”
His words make you giggle, blushing as you picture it and a part of you gets excited, thrilled that you have his baby inside of you right now.
“It’s also kind of… hot,” he admits, sheepishly, “Knowing my lil swimmers got in there and succeeded.”
“Billy,” you warn, cheeks flushed for a different reason.
He kisses your jaw up to your ear and whispers, “Can’t say I didn’t think about it when I saw my cum dripping out of you.”
The familiar heat creeps up your thighs and only Billy can arouse you with such filthy words.
“It sure was fun,” he muses, biting your earlobe and you moan softly, gripping on his shirt with your fingers.
“Fuck,” you whine when he smoothes his hand over your ass, pulling your core against his erection, straining in his jeans.
“Wasn’t it?” he quizzes before placing a wet kiss on your neck, squeezing your ass.
You’re surprised you didn’t think that he would take the opportunity to turn this into sex. But that’s part of why you’re so attracted to him, part of why you can’t get enough of him. You hook your leg over his hip and writhe against him, eyes fluttering shut at the friction against your clit.
“So fun,” you pant, turning to capture his lips in an open mouthed kiss. He eagerly licks into your mouth, rutting his hips against you. He is so intoxicating, the way he sounds, feels and is has your head swimming and heart pounding. You feel you absolutely cannot go back to a time without him. You won’t have it. This is how love is supposed to feel, pure and all consuming.
You fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down just enough to get his cock out, stroking him determinedly. He gifts you with a high pitched moan, a hair away from a whine. You breath against his mouth, your arousal engulfing you and controlling your actions. Everything feels so deliciously heavy. The air in the room stuffy in a pleasant away. He grabs a hold of his member and shoves your panties aside, entering you easily and it’s apparent you two have no control. You both need this closeness more than anything in the world.
“Fuck, Billy,” you pant out, “I love you!”
He laughs against your lips, you can feel the smoothness of his teeth on them but he recites angelically, “I love you, baby.”
He earns a moan from you, fingernails scratching down his back while he thrusts into your heat. If you could form thoughts at the moment, you’d be feeling silly for thinking he didn’t like romanticism in the bedroom. Perhaps the whole pregnancy thing awoken something in him but this whole thing is so beautiful. This is what you imagined when people said making love.
His hands scale all over your body, like he can’t touch enough of it at once. It makes you feel beautiful, surging more wetness from you. You decide then, that maybe you don’t praise Billy for his beauty enough and what better time than when he’s buried deep inside you.
“You’re so gorgeous,” you pant out, “the most beautiful man…” you gasp and plant your hand on his cheek, eyes scanning over his breathtaking face. You admire his thick eyelashes, his perfectly arched brows, the subtle, short hairs that make up his mustache, his plump and pink lips. He shoots you a smile, his tongue peeking through his teeth and you melt, that’s you’re favorite part of Billy. His absolutely stunning smile. The way it reaches his eyes, crinkling the skin there and swells his cheeks. “So pretty,” you say, dazed by him.
He burrows his face in your neck but you can still feel his smile. You giggle softly, “Come on… look at me.”
He brings his face back up to meet yours, you swear you see hearts in his eyes and you jerk your hips against his, grabbing his hand from your waist and linking your fingers. You want nothing more than to make this man feel on top of the world, give him absolutely everything you have and ask him what else he needs. The two of you gaze at each other, jaws dropped while harmonizing moans slip out.
Billy flips onto his back, pulling you on top of him but keeping your bodies flush. He has better leverage from this position, hands gripping your waist as he fucks up into you, dark eyes intense on your own. His hair falls back on the mattress and mimics a halo framing his head. He looks downright angelic which is exactly what you needed to edge you closer to your climax, using your knees to aid you in matching his thrusts. The sounds escaping Billy are captivating, spurring your motions languid, tiny moans and whines gracing your ears. You ride him, slowly, dragging so his tip nearly pops out before you slide back down, engulfing him in your clenching walls. Each time, you earn a soft sigh from him.
“I’m close,” he whimpers, eyes squeezing shuts.
“Cum for me, Billy,” you plead, quickening your pace.
“You first,” he chokes out, his neck straining as he tries to hold himself off.
It’s sweet, that he’s concerned and wants you to satiated. You giggle, straightening your body so you can rub your clit without restraint. “Look at me,” you order.
“I’ll definitely bust if I do,” he breathes.
“And I won’t until I see your eyes,” you gasp out, the passive compliment sending a jolt to your clit.
He reluctantly lifts his eyelids, gracing you with his icy blue eyes. You work quick circles on your clit, grasping onto your fleeting orgasm at the opportune moment and a shrill, cry of his name erupts from your chest. Your hips jerk relentlessly, riding out the earth shattering high.
Billy grunts, grabbing onto your hips as he thrusts up into you erratically, freezing when his culmination forefronts. You feel him fill you up, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You two lazily thrust through the waves of your orgasms, panting almost in sync.
#billy hargove x reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove angst#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove x you#billy hargove smut#billy hargrove x f!reader
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Nothing
Pro!Bakugo (23) x Fem!Reader (23 plus sized, I can’t help it)
I recently rediscovered nothing by Bruno major and my brain went buurrrrrr so I had to write this fluffy bullshit I’m sorry I’m sorry.
warnings: slight body dysmorphia??? this is really just pure fluff and it’s honestly kinda trash but if I didn’t write it I was going to lose my natural alignment.
“Come on, babe we’re gonna be late!” Katsuki calls up the stairs of our shared home. It was just one of those days…one of those god awful days where I just feel…bad. None of my clothes are fitting how I want them to, no matter how I style my hair my face still looks too round in my opinion, just..everything was wrong; of course this had to happen on date night. I come downstairs still in my pajamas, Katsuki was already dressed, wearing a white button down with the sleeves half rolled, black dress pants and dress shoes, along with a look of pure confusion and slight anger. “You look so handsome, kats” I say sadly, trying to ignore his confused gaze. “Is there a reason you’re not dressed? I already pushed the reservation back twice…we’re gonna lose our table.” He says running a stressed hand through his mess of blond hair.
I couldn’t hold it back any longer, the tears fall before I can even process the fact that I’m crying. “I-I’m sorry, Katsuki…I j-just..” he rushes to my side, knowing what’s going on without the need for an explanation. “I see, you don’t need to explain anything to me, baby. I can tell what’s wrong…we’ll have a lazy night in then, huh? Sound good to you?” I nod happily, wiping my face clean of the tear trails. I take my place on the couch while Katsuki goes upstairs to change into comfortable clothes himself.
I make us some popcorn and gather as many snacks as I can find, chocolate, chips, the whole shebang, once I get back into the living room I see him man spreading on the couch, wearing grey sweats and a black tank top. “God damn…you’re so sexy, Kats” he lets out a low chuckle as his crimson eyes rake over my body. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, doll. We’re supposed to be being lazy and like…boring tonight, right?” I laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, a pink blush dusting my cheeks. “Sorry, sorry…I’ll behave.” I promise before happily sitting next to him on the couch, sprawling all the snacks on the table before pulling the blanket over us. He grabs the switch controllers and hands me one with a smirk. “Mario Kart?”
I take the controller from him and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as he starts the game up. He chooses bowser which is oh so fitting and I pick daisy of course, to which he snickers and mumbles something along the lines of “fuckin’ princess..” I roll my eyes but ultimately ignore him, as the first race begins. I anxiously chew on my bottom lip as I try my best, I can’t help but notice that he’s doing really badly and I let out a small laugh. “Babe are you even trying?” I look over to see him staring at me, his gaze is so soft and loving, yet intense. I feel my face heat up as I shrink away from his crimson stare. “Hellllooooo earth to Katsuki..” he just smiles and sets the controller down. “There aren’t many people I’d honestly say I don’t mind losing to…you just look so damn cute when you get all excited about winning.” I smile softly and shove his shoulder. “Cheese ball…when did you get so sappy?” He sucks his teeth and shrugs, leaning back against the couch. “Dunno, you bring out the bitch in me, babe.” I roll my eyes and get up from the couch, turning off the switch and putting Netflix on.
“Wanna watch a movie?” I say grabbing the remote and sitting back down next to him. “Yeah, I’m okay with that.” I scroll through the movies and smile at his annoyed groan when I pick “the notebook”. “Come onnn we’ve watched this stupid shit like 16 times!” I smirk and press play anyways. “Well, now it’s time to watch it for the 17th time!” I cuddle into his side and rest my head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as he draws gentle shapes with his fingers on my thigh. Nearing the iconic bittersweet ending of the movie I hear soft sniffles coming from Katsuki and I look up. “pussy.” He immediately wipes his face and shoots me a glare. “Shut up! It’s so goddamn sad!” I laugh loudly and poke his pouty bottom lip. “I’m jokin’ im jokin’. it’s cute how soft you get over this movie.” He lifts my chin and stares into my eyes, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. We’ve been together for 2 years and this man still manages to make me feel weak in the knees as if we just met.
The corners of his mouth turn up into the smallest smile before he leans in, capturing my lips in the sweetest kiss I’ve ever experienced from him. He’s never been a bad kisser by any means but this kiss feels different. It’s so soft, and gentle, it’s as if he’s afraid he’ll break me if he kisses me any harder. I feel his hands sneak down my sides and he pulls me into his lap causing me to gasp, he of course uses that opening to explore my mouth with his tongue. I run my fingers through his hair and tug slightly to deepen the kiss, feeling my body heat up. Before things can go any further he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. “I know we’re not making out on a boat in the rain or uh, in a house I painted blue…” I smile softly, waiting for him to continue. “but?” He laughs at my impatience. “but there’s nothin’ like doin’ nothin’ with you.” I’m smiling like a damn fool at this point. I don’t know if he meant to rhyme but I don’t care. My heart is so full of love for this man that nothing else matters. “there’s nothing like doing nothing with you..”
this is actual garbage and I hate everything about it but I had to create it. I simply had to. nobody talk to me for several years. bye.
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If Amy (My OC) had a 'Stupid Deaths' segment
Death: Next!
*Nobody enters*
Death: *Nervously leans over the desk looking in each direction*...Hello? Is no one there?... *Sits back in his seat* Well, that can't be everyone, can it? People die every day, it's not like the world's just ran out of people.
Death: *Picks up his clipboard* It says here that there's still more people to- *Lowers the clipboard to see a short female figure standing before the desk. Pale skin, large blue eyes, black hair down to her shoulderblades. She has a pair of wireless rose gold headphones on her head, and black spiked choker around her neck. She is wearing an oversized black hoodie with electric blue stars on the shoulders, a black and white tartan skirt atop some ripped black tights and white leg warmers. On her feet are a pair of boots that look like cinder blocks*
Death: *Jumps* Oh crumbs! Didn't hear you come in, when did you come in?
Amy: Legit just now...
Death: *Rolls his eyes, muttering* Oh, it's one of the youths, is it? Alright... Well, you certainly look- different to many that come through.
Amy: *Flourishes her hands to her outfit* Do I scare you?
Death: Ye- No! Who said scared? Who said anything about being scared? You're scared!
Amy: ...Can we get on with it?
Death: Hmph. Fine, Name?
Amy: Amy
Death: Okay let's get down to the nitty gritty, tell me about your stupid death.
Amy: Choked to death on an energy drink.
Death: *Stifles a laugh* I see. But, umm- how did you choke on it?
Amy: *Sighs* Want the full story or just the bullshit?
Death: ... Full story would be nice...
Amy: Fine. My mum forced me to come with her to this old ass house so she could 'recover' from her alcoholism.
Death: ... That's a direction I wasn't prepared for.
Amy: Anyway, a week in and she got me to come outside in the baking hot sun for a while but then I got thirsty. Wearing all black in the heat fucked me over.
Death: Oh, I know. *tugs at his collar* I'm an avid wearer of black too. Continue.
Amy: Well, I went back inside, went up to the room we were staying in and cracked open a can of my favourite drink. Mango Loco Monster, it's so good, you should try it by the way.
Death: I prefer Pink Lemonade
Amy: *under her breath* Fuckin' boring. Anyway, I was so thirsty and boiling hot, so I guzzled that shit like there was no tomorrow. And you know when you're drinking and a tiny little bit of it goes down the wrong way but you're still drinking? And you can kinda feel the urge to cough?
Death: Yyyyesss?
Amy: My mind must've drawn a blank for a second 'cause I didn't know whether to swallow, cough or spit it out... *points at him* Don't laugh at that, by the way
Death: *Holds his hands up* I wasn't going to...
Amy: And my stupid fucking brain decided to do all three in that order. I kept coughing and gasping and accidentally forcing more of the drink down my throat...
Death: *Giggling* Yes?
Amy: Then I- fell over and died *shrugs*
Death: *Laughs* All because you got hot and needed a drink?
Amy: Yep...
Death: Ahhaha! That is quite funny actually.
Amy: Yeah, wasn't funny at the time though, asswipe...
Death: I know, I know, by now you must need time to FIZZle out?! *Laughs*
Amy: *Fake smile* Okay, funny c**t
Death: No, but seriously, *leans onto the desk looking morose* it must've been a real sticky situation! *Laughs*
Amy: ...
Death: Okay then, Amy, you're through to the afterlife
Amy: *Flips him off and heads for the exit*
Death: Died choking on an energy drink, that's going in the album. I love this job sometimes...
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Hello, me again!!
I was just busy doing homework when I started thinking about epithet characters (who am I kidding, I think about them all the time LMAO). And then Sheriff Gorou just popped up in my head and then WOAH BIG BRAIN MOMENT!! What if he was friends with a prisoner reader? They can eat donuts and drink pinecones together :)
Hope you all have a great day/evening!!
-Ryan
HANGING OUT
synopsis… hanging out with sheriff gorou
ft. sheriff gorou
tags… platonic, fluff, nothing much happens you just hang out
word count… 662
a/n… I LIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FOR A LITTLE BIT. BEEN INCREDIBLY BUSY WITH ASSIGNMENTS BUT IPAD IS OUT OF BATTERY RIGHT NOW SO I'M WRITING THIS WHILE IT RECHARGES. ENJOY THE GOOFY ✧ 🦇
“So, how do you drink these?”
“I don’t know! But it’s the only drink we have here in Redwood Run!”
“... And the well?”
“Oh! It’s completely dry!”
Sheriff Gorou’s hearty laugh echoed in the small cabin he had made his headquarters in the city in the middle of the woods. You stood behind some not-very-sturdy metal bars with a pinecone in your hands, a straw had been jammed in the thing. Gorou had brought it for you from the tavern when you had asked him to bring you a drink to share. He had a pinecone of his own, and he was unsuccessfully trying to try from the straw stuck in it.
You watched him with an amused smile from your spot in the cabin, jumping slightly when he handed you a donut from the box that rested on his desk.
“Here!” He stated with an enthusiastic tone, “Can’t have a drink without a snack!” He smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, amused giggle as you took the sweet treat from his hands, “Why thank you.”
Somehow, Gorou managed to have a box of fresh donuts on his desk every morning. You weren’t quite sure where they came from, as the old man from the tavern didn’t seem like someone who’d take interest in baking, and Redwood Run didn’t quite have a bakery. You wondered if he had lied to you about his epithet (that, of course, he had told you about straight away), and it was actually “Donut” instead of “Bluster”, and it let him have a fresh box of the things every morning. They were incredibly tasty and somehow still a bit warm- but this wasn’t surprising, despite being in the middle of the woods, the clearing Redwood Run found itself in was often subject to the light of the high sun, making everything in the small city and its houses warm. It was like the city was stuck at the high noon of a western movie.
And if that was the aesthetic it was going for, Sheriff Gorou stuck out like a sore thumb, with his bright ginger hair and beard, the latter adorned with all sorts of sprinkles, and his happy go lucky attitude; everyone in the city was a criminal, after all! Even you! Why do you think you were hanging out in the sheriff’s cabin, behind the bars of the only cell in the entire town? He didn’t even catch you himself- you turned yourself in! You just felt a little bad that he never seemed to be able to do his job right.
But life in that single cell ended up not being so bad.
Gorou was a nice guy to be around, and you never got bored hearing his repeated stories or watching him gift guns to whoever stepped inside the cabin, even if they did so by accident.
“That guy over there seems new,” You commented after taking a bite of your donut and gesturing to someone outside with a nod. Gorou turned in the direction you pointed to, and he noticed a Banzai Blaster that seemed to be quite lost.
“He does!” He commented,
“Do you think I should go give him a gun? As a welcome gift?”
“Nah, I wanna see how long he goes without one. Also, he didn’t come in here.”
“Hmm… You’re right!”
Gorou shrugged and smiled as he leaned back in his chair, trying to prop his feet up on the desk, but failing and almost falling backwards. You couldn’t help but snicker as he regained his balance and composure, his cheeks red from embarrassment for almost falling like that in front of you.
“Aw, come on,” You cooed with a smile “You’ll be able to do it someday. I believe in ya, sheriff.”
Gorou gained his big smile again, his round cheeks peeking from under his beard.
“Why thank ya! You’re the nicest inmate I’ve ever had! And the only one!”
#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request !#epithet erased imagines#epithet erased#epithet erased x reader#🦇's writings#sheriff gorou ee#epithet erased gorou
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schumilton + ferrari
listen . ok. i love you?
Lewis is knitting when he gets back. It's something he's picked up from Valtteri - to keep his hands and brain busy. He never was good at being bored. Charles hasn't taken off his, only slightly misshapen, red bobble hat since Lewis gave it to him a few months ago. It's his only non sponsored clothing that he wears to races.
Roscoe doesn't even twitch when Mick closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. He hangs up his coat on the rack, running the back of his hand along Lewis’s fake fur coat. Lewis is barefoot, curled up on the couch, Roscoe leaning into him.
Lewis’s head tilts back easy, Mick’s hand curling into the hinge of his jaw. His mouth falls open under his. He tastes of tea and that vegan chocolate he likes and toothpaste, wet and warm and soft. He feels desperate with it all, something alive and shivering in his fingers.
Lewis is looking at him when he opens his eyes. He does not ask Mick to sit down but he’s got that look on his face, very deliberately not frowning, where he’s waiting for Mick to bolt. Mick, forever his father’s son and Sebastian’s student, had never been able to meet a challenge he can not spit at. He sits down, Roscoe between them.
The corner of Lewis’s mouth quirks up but he doesn’t say anything.
“I saw Yuki today,” Mick says, ruffling his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, pushing the hair back and forth. “Said to say hi and to remind you about some design thing you said you’d look at.”
“Right, yeah, thanks. It’s in my calender.” Lewis goes back to his knitting, needles click clacking together. There have been many nights that Mick has fallen asleep to that sound. He is happier than he has been in a very long time. I need this. Please, don’t take it away. I need you. I can have this. I can. I can.
Lewis is good at being wanted, he can conceptualise that, but being needed? No, that he won’t believe. Him and Sebastian are more alike than they will ever know.
“Pierre put another dead fish in Esteban’s driver room.” Mick laughs as Lewis’s nose wrinkles. “Yeah, Este wasn’t that happy either. Apart from that though, there’s nothing else new. Same old, same old.”
He knows he’s rambling. Lewis’s toe nails are painted lilac purple. A few of them are beginning to chip. Mick will have to redo them for him soon.
“Mick.”
When Mick looks up at Lewis, he is watching him, eyebrows raised. Mick’s fingers tingle, toes curling in his socks, like he’s taking a corner in the rain, trying to find the apex on muscle memory alone, trying not to back out, swallowing the urge to blink.
“Are you going to mention Ferrari at some point or will I wait for the Instagram post like everyone else?”
Mick swallows. Click. Clack. Click. Click. “I signed with them a week ago. It’s being announced tonight.”
He doesn’t say I meant to tell you but it hangs in the air between them. Lewis’s face does something that Mick isn’t able to read before he nods, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Lewis shrugs. Mick suppresses the urge to hit him.
"You'll find someone else," Mick says and Lewis half laughs. "Of course, we will, that's not the point.”
Mick's stomach goes cold. He licks his lips, mouth dry.
"You already have someone."
Lewis sighs, putting down his needles, long fingers folding over themselves on top of the wool. There's more grey in his beard now then when Mick first joined the sport, the lines around his eyes deeper. He announced his upcoming retirement five races ago, after Silverstone.
There is a very big chance that he will retire a champion — even with Charles and George snapping at his heels, the title already feels like Lewis’s. There’s something to how he is driving this year, how he’s walking around and talking, it’s not just Mick who has noticed. Winning that eighth — winning it in Brazil — settled something in him, gave something back to him.
(Sebastian laughed so hard he nearly cried when Lewis won. Fernando had threatened to slash his tires if Seb wouldn’t stop following him around saying that Lewis now has four times as many titles as him and god, Fernando, aren’t you embarrassed. Mick doesn’t know who taught Sebastian the phrase “rip but couldn’t be me” but whoever it was, they are a genius.)
"It's being announced tomorrow, I think."
Mick doesn't have the right to be angry or hurt. He does not. He's the one leaving Mercedes. He’s the one that’s been in talks with Ferrari for weeks.
"Who?"
"Mick —“
"Who?” Mick looks away from Lewis. The sun is setting outside the wall length glass windows, melting red and orange and shimmering into the sea.
"Arthur," Lewis says, like he says everything else, as clear and solid as a punch. There are very few people Lewis lets himself lie to, with whom Lewis softens his words, and Mick has never been one of them. That alone could've made Mick fall in love with him.
"Leclerc," Mick replies, even though he doesn't need to - what other Arthur could Lewis possibly be taking about. Lewis hums in agreement, leaning his head back on the couch, cheek smushed into the cushion.
He remembers Charles’ face when Mick signed the contract, the circles under his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks.
“He turned down Ferrari,” Mick says and knows it is the truth.
Lewis shrugs. “Well, from what I understand it’s more like he didn’t give them the opportunity to offer it in the first place.”
“Right.”
Lewis doesn’t say anything. Mick feels like coughing, like throwing up, whatever he can do to get all this shit in his chest out. It’s taken him a long time to learn how to talk, to talk to Lewis. He hates to think that he has forgotten.
“Are you mad at me?”
He sounds like a child, which he hates, but Lewis doesn’t laugh. “No, of course not. It’s your life, Mick. It’s your choice.”
“Then—“ Then why does it feel like you are? Why does it feel like I’ve disappointed you? How dare you —
“But you don’t want me to go to Ferrari.” It’s not a question for all that Mick wants Lewis to disagree.
Lewis frowns, forehead folding in on itself, crease over crease. “That’s not — Okay. Look.” He glances down at his lap, the fingertips of his right hand pressing into the divots of the knuckles on his left. “This isn’t about what I want. It’s about you.”
“Yeah.”
Lewis told Mick that he was retiring a week before he announced it to the world, over apple pancakes and orange juice, the sweat from his run still clinging to the collar of his tank. Mick hadn’t said anything, only pulled Lewis in for a kiss when he passed by as he went for his shower.
They talked about it afterwards, in between zoom calls and workouts and sim sessions, but still, even then, Mick hadn’t asked him when he decided, when he knew he wasn’t coming back. Mick hadn’t asked him why he didn’t talk to Mick about it first. Mick hadn’t asked him if he was the first to know, he knows he wasn’t, is pretty sure that he knows who was.
(I don’t want what you have with him, Mick had thought, years before, watching Lewis knock knees with Sebastian, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. Sebastian hadn’t been able to stop looking at Lewis that night, not after George told him, tipsy and laughing, that Lewis was the one who organised it all. I don’t want it but I want something. I will not be the second choice. Not for you. Not in this.)
“Yeah,” Mick says. “It’s not about what you want.”
How can it be when I don’t know what you fucking want?
Lewis reaches over, running a hand down Roscoe’s neck, fingers stopping just short of touching Mick’s. “I want you to be happy. If Ferrari will do that, then I want Ferrari for you. That’s it. That’s all.”
Mick stares at the small tattoos etched into the back of his hand, dark and thin and careful. Is this a conversation you have already had before, he doesn’t ask. He is trying to be fair. He is. He thinks he might be going insane.
“Okay.” He covers Lewis’s hand with his, dry and warm. The skin around his wrist bunches up between his fingers. “And, and if they don’t?”
Lewis turns his hand over, thumb tucking up into the centre of Mick’s palm. “Then we figure it out.”
#smth smth what happens when you get what you’ve wanted for so long and you’re so happy and you’ve got all you’ve been fighting for but youre#not done fighting. what happens then. how do you trust that smth smth#and how do you trust someone that you can’t talk to. that you can’t tell them what you’re thinking so how can you know what they want when#they don’t know what you want and and and . and#self destruction at its finest and softest#mick/lewis#schumilton#little fic#kyle tag#niamh.asks
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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: not the spoiled kind of rich
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: y/n did something on accident, getting landos attention
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lando norris x fem!reader
𝐀𝐔: formula one
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :)
"Did you see that Y/n went viral and is trending again?" the text to speech robot said. Lando was currently streaming, not even knowing that Y/n went viral again. "Nooo, what did she do now?" he frowned, wondering what she said that made her go viral. Y/n mostly went viral for saying out of pocket shit that just falls out of her mouth before she even thinks. As she always says,'Mouth goes faster than your brain', and that is her motto for saying those things. Before anyone cound answer, he got a notification from Twitter(i can't call it X). The caption said AIN'T NO WAY Y/N JUST BOUGHT A FUCKING CAR BY ACCIDENT, and he immediately looked up at the camera "No she didn't.". He knew that she played around on the websites where you can build your own car. Well, she did go on those sites, only making the cars, but not actually ordering them. He looked back at his phone, continuing to read the tweet. At the end of the tweet, there was a video of Y/ns stream. He clicked on it.
"So I do really like how this one turned out,this one is deffo my new fave one." Y/n said as she just randomly moved her mouse on the screen. "What's this button do?" she said before, well, a tragic incident happened. She looked confused, staring blankly at the screen while her chat flooded with people saying no or laughing that she managed to do that. "Ain't no way," she whispered, "that I ordered a car," she stopped, "BY ACCIDENT," she yelled. She looked like she was debating on whether or not she would cancel the order. "Anyways, I'ma just leave it like that. Guess I just bought my 9th car." she shrugged as if it was nothing.
And with that, the video ended, he laughed while searching her up on Twitch. As he found her he noticed that she switched the caption that went from Making a car, again, to even I am amazed by my wealth. He quickly went to donate her 10 dollars, typing in the message, How in the hell did you not see what the button meant you dipshit? before sending the dono. Smiling as he watched her reaction. "Oh Lando, hello and no I didn't see what that shit was, i just pressed it" she replied, defending herself but also smiling at his donation. He closed her stream before chatting with his fans for a bit. After a few minutes, he ended his stream, rading some smaller streamer.
Later that evening, he texted her, asking if she was free tomorrow. She didn't reply. Instead, she called him on FaceTime. "Aye wassup, I'm lazy to text," she immediately said. "Nothing, was just bored and wanted to talk with you. Are you free?" he asked. She smiled, looking at him through the screen, "For you? I'm always free, I'm free right now if ya wanna go somewhere. " He blushed, thinking about what he should say, "Wanna go drive around and eat at McDonald's? Nothing special." he tilted his head. "Send me your address. I'll pick you up in 30 mins," she said before ending the call. He pumped his fists in the air, doing a small dance to celebrate that she said yes. He typed in his address, sending it to her. He quickly got up from the couch, going straight to his bathroom for a shower. He wouldn't dream of smelling bad even tho if it's a regular ride to McDonald's. He felt as if he always needed to smell good around her, being a gentleman for her. They spent the night laughing at each other, sharing shitty jokes that made them laugh to tears. It was 2 am when Y/n parked outside of Landos hotel, she got out of the car, confusing him. Just as he was about to ask her why, she hugged him, "Thank you Lando, I really enjoyed this night," pulling away from him, he smiled before going to the hotel. She got in her car and drove off, making sure to be loud in the middle of the night. He entered his room, closing the door and sliding down it, a smile creeping on his face. He got up and went to his bedroom, taking off his clothes and laying in his bed, falling to sleep immediately. When Y/n got to her house, she did the same, fell asleep as soon as her body hit the bed. When she woke up, she smiled, remembering the previous night.
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 grid x reader#f1 imagines#f1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris
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