#and everyone is competitive about Everything. any beating you can take i can take it better. like ok!!!!!! its not a contest!!!!!

[kingtankgirl]

another reason why i refuse to get personally involved in my local kink scene is because everyone ive met from this.. honestly really insular community (small college city moment) is so. competitive. im going to a kink show at a bar after hours and everyone ive mentioned it to Also goes to the biggest sex club which is the most famous one in the area. and their reaction is always like "oh.. ya its fun but its not much.. nothing like [x]" and its like ok well. im not ready to go to [x]. i don't want to go to a sex club in a huge barn that gets populated with hundreds of kinksters playing and fucking. i want to go to a show. but it gets brought up Every Single Time i mention this other, supposedly "tamer" event like its lesser cuz it isnt so big. just a really weird way to treat your community! and other independent venues!

[rafayelxsylusho]

the jealous fic series is sooo good! can’t wait for the sylus one

I almost forgot about my man. Thanks for reminding me!

Hope you like it!!

How the LADS men fu€k jealousy out of you.

TW: SMUT

***There is a quote from a book that some of you have probably read before, I just really wanted to use it in one of sylus fics😊😊***

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

You had been looking forward to surprising Sylus at home, craving some much needed alone time with him after recent missions that kept you apart. However, once you got to his place you found the house quiet and empty. No sign of Sylus anywhere. A flicker of concern began to rise in your chest as you wandered the halls, calling out his name, but only the echo of your own voice greeted you.

You found Luke and Kieran in the study, engaged in their usual antics, lounging on the plush leather sofas, having a lively discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed you.

"Look Kieran, our favorite hunter came to visit," Luke drawled. "Here to see the boss man, y/n?"

Kieran sat up and offered you a genuine smile. "Boss isn't here at the moment," he explained "He's been called away to attend a rather important auction tonight."

"Auction?" you asked, frowning. "What auction?"

Luke leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The big one. The one everyone's talking about. The one boss has been prepping for all week."

You try to recall any mention of an important auction Sylus had spoken of, but as much as you rack your brain you come up empty. It's not like him to keep something like this a secret from you. A flicker of concern crosses your face as you wonder why he wouldn't have mentioned it to you directly.

"So, when will he be back?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as you felt a flutter of disappointment at his absence.

Kieran shrugged. "Hard to say. These things can go on for hours. Days even. Depends on how stubborn the other bidders are."

Luke snorted. "And how determined Sylus is to win."

You find yourself waiting for Sylus to return home from the mysterious auction. The hours tick by, and to pass the time, you decide to engage in some friendly competition with Luke and Kieran. The three of you spend the next couple of hours engrossed in a highspeed, adrenaline pumping videogame.

In between races, you raid the well stocked kitchen, returning with an array of tasty treats and Sylus' prized collection of gourmet chocolates.

As the night wears on you can't help but glance at the clock more frequently, wondering what's keeping Sylus. A regular auction should have ended by now, and while he is known for his meticulous attention to business dealings, this delay is starting to feel a bit longer than usual.

You decide to reach out to Sylus. You pull out your phone and dial his his private number, the one reserved for emergencies and urgent matters. After a few rings, his deep, smooth voice fills your ear.

"Y/n, what is it?" his tone unusually distracted. It's clear that he's in the midst of something important, his words clipped and hurried. The sound of muffled voices and distant commotion can be heard in the background, hinting at a crowded and chaotic environment.

"Hey, I'm at your place with Luke and Kieran," you explain, trying to keep your own voice casual despite the unease you feel. "I've been waiting for you to come home. Is everything alright?"

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Sylus' mind as he considers his response. "Yes, everything's fine," he says at last "This auction... it's taking longer than expected. Complications arose with a few of the other attendees." He sighs, and you can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his exasperation and stress. "I'm doing what I can to wrap things up, but it may be a while."

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a woman's voice, a stranger's melodic tone. The woman's words are muffled, but her term of endearment "Sylus darling" rings out crystal clear through the phone speaker.

You stiffen, gripping the phone tighter as a flurry of unwelcome thoughts and emotions wash over you. A cold, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly feel like an intruder in the intimate moment.

"I apologize, kitten, but I must go," Sylus says abruptly, his voice tight and strained. "I'll deal with this and be home as soon as I can. Wait for me" With that, he ends the call, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned disbelief.

"Shit, was that Ira?" Luke asks looking at Kieran.

Your head snaps up as Luke's question hangs in the air, a sense of confusion etched on your face. Kieran, noticing your expression, quickly elbows Luke to silence him, shooting him a warning glare.

"Shh, don't be an idiot," Kieran hisses under his breath, though not quiet enough that you don't hear him. "You shouldn't go around throwing around names like that without knowing for sure."

Kieran clears his throat, his expression turning somber as he sees the confusion and hurt in your eyes. "Ira is just an old business partner of Sylus," he explains carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "They have a history together, but it's all about work. Nothing more.

Unable to shake the sense of unease in your gut, you eventually make your way upstairs to Sylus' bedroom, hoping to find some sense of comfort and familiarity in the space that has become so closely associated with the man you've come to love so deeply. You curl up on the plush, king-sized bed, inhaling the faint scent of Sylus' cologne that still lingers on the silken sheets. As exhaustion finally overtakes you, you drift off to a fitful sleep, your dreams fragmented images of Sylus and the unknown woman, their figures intertwined in ways that make your heart ache with a painful, jealous fervor.

When you awaken sometime later, the first light of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains, you reach out instinctively for Sylus, only to find the space beside you cold and empty. You check your phone, hoping for a message or a call, but there is nothing.

You know you can't stay here, not like this, not with the way your mind is racing. The feelings inside you threaten to consume you, jealousy, anger, and a deep, abiding fear of losing the man you love.

As you zip up your backpack, the weight of your decision to leave Sylus' place feels both heavy and necessary. You take a deep breath and make your way back to your apartment.

Once inside the familiar confines of your own space the memory of Tara's camping invitation surfaces, and you realize that the solitude of the city may be more than you can bear in your current state of mind. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone and dial Tara's number, praying that she hasn't already made other plans or filled the available spots on her trip. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Tara," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I know I already declined the camping trip, but... I've changed my mind. If the offer still stands, I'd love to join you and the team this weekend."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise and delight in Tara's voice as she responds. "Of course, y/n! You're more than welcome to join us. I'm so glad you changed your mind," she says warmly, her words a balm to your battered soul. You thank Tara profusely, already feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at the prospect of escaping the city and the thoughts on your mind.

During the trip Tara and the rest of the team were wonderful hosts, ensuring that you were kept busy and distracted with hikes, campfire stories, and hearty meals. As the night of the trip wears on you lose yourself in the simple joys of the outdoors, the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke, the distant hooting of an owl, the warmth of your friends gathered around the flickering fire. Slowly but surely, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the painful thoughts of Sylus and the mysterious woman start to recede.

By the time the weekend draws to a close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the fresh air and company of your friends having done wonders to clear your head. The feelings of jealousy are still there, lingering in the back of your mind, but they no longer threaten to consume you as they once did.

As you step into your apartment in the late afternoon, the familiar scent of home envelops you, offering a sense of comfort and security that you desperately crave. The weight of the weekend's emotions and the long journey back to the city have left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Without hesitation, you make your way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime and weariness of the past couple of days. As the hot water cascades over your skin, you let out a sigh, allowing the steam to fill your lungs and cleanse your mind.

You linger in the shower for longer than necessary, the heat of the water soothing your aching muscles and helping to melt away the lingering tension that has taken up residence in your body. By the time you step out, your skin is pink and tingling, and a sense of renewed energy courses through your veins.

As you towel yourself dry, you remember the need to charge your phone, which had died during the camping trip due to the lack of a reliable power source. You pad out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the hardwood floor as you make your way to your backpack. Fishing out your phone from the depths of the bag, you plug it in and watch as the screen flickers to life, the dim glow illuminating your face, the phone chimes and you take a deep breath before unlocking the screen. The anticipation of seeing Sylus' name among the list of notifications makes your heart race in your chest, a mix of hope and dread swirling within you.

As the messages load, you scan the list of senders, your eyes widening as you realize that there is not a single one from Sylus among them. You set your phone down on the kitchen counter, the glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room as you rummage through the cabinets for a glass. The house feels strangely quiet, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the campsite just hours before. As you fill your glass with cool, refreshing water and take a long sip, you can't help but let your mind wander back to the memory of Sylus' curt goodbye and the sound of that woman's voice, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that even the cold water can't wash away.

You set the glass down with a heavy sigh, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened window above the sink. In the dim light, you can see the weariness etched into the lines of your face, the shadows beneath your eyes a testament to the restless nights, and just as you're about to turn away from the window, a sudden movement outside catches your eye. You lean closer, peering out into the darkness, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see a tall, familiar figure standing beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

It's Sylus.

He stands motionless, his dark silhouette unmistakable even at this distance. He seems to be looking directly at your window, though you're not sure if he can actually see you through the darkness and the reflection on the glass. You take a tentative step back from the window, lots of questions race through your mind. What is Sylus doing here? How long has he been waiting? You freeze at the sound of a knock, your heart leaping into your throat as a wave of panic and adrenaline surges through your body. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, the sound of Sylus' fist against the wood unmistakable.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart as you make your way towards the door. You pause for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, and take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open.

"Sylus," you say, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Even in the dim light of the hallway, you can see the intensity of his gaze, the crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you, seeing straight into your very soul. He's dressed in a dark shirt and pants, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in agitation.

"Hello kitten" Sylus murmurs, "how was your trip?"

"It was fine," you say shortly. "How did you know I went on a trip?"

Your mind races as you wonder how Sylus could possibly know about your last-minute decision to join Tara and the others for the weekend. You didn't mention it to anyone. So how did he find out?

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He looks tired, you notice, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But there's a intensity to his gaze, a fierce focus that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I have my ways," he says, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips "The real question is, why did you leave without telling me?" His voice is low and smooth, but there's an hint of frustration beneath the calm exterior. 

"Come in," you say softly, stepping back to allow him entry. As Sylus steps into your apartment, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he moves past you.

Sylus turns to face you, his crimson eyes searching yours in the dim light cast by the single lamp you left on before your trip. He looks different in the low light, softer somehow, the harsh angles of his face gentled by the shadows. But there's still a intensity to his gaze, a fierce determination that makes your heart race in your chest.

You stand there, clutching the towel tightly around your body. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the emotions that have been building for days.

"Well? Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we going to stand here all night?" There's a undercurrent of impatience in his voice, a frustration that belies the casual tone.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and gesture towards the couch. "Of course, please, make yourself comfortable," you say, the words sound too formal to your own ears.

You turn to head to your bedroom, suddenly feeling the chill of the air on your damp skin beneath the thin towel "I'm going to change," you say over your shoulder, not looking back at him as you make your way to your bedroom.

You gasp as you feel Sylus' strong hand grab the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the damp skin and pulling you gently but firmly towards him. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your heart stuttering in your chest as you find your back pressed against the firm wall of his chest.

"Sylus," you breathe out "what are you doing?"

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his long fingers splaying across the curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the towel, the warmth seeping into your flesh and making your pulse race.

Sylus leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur. "I couldn't let you walk away without getting an answer first," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me, kitten, why did you leave without telling me? His grip on your neck tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make it clear that he has no intention of letting you go until he gets the answers he wants. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy of a man on the brink of losing control. It both frightens and exhilarates you, the power he holds in his hands, the way he can make you feel with a single touch.

"Sylus, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away from him. "Not like this. I can't think straight when you touch me like this."

Sylus chuckles darkly, a low, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through his chest pressed against your back. His fingers tighten briefly on your hip before releasing you, only to trail slowly up the curve of your side, his touch feather light and teasing. "Like what, kitten?" he murmurs in your ear. "I haven't even touched you yet, not the way I want to. Not the way you need me to."

His hand reaches the side of your breast, his fingers grazing the swell of it through the damp towel. You can feel your nipple tightening in response, betraying your body's desire for his touch.

"Tell me why you left, y/n," Sylus demands, his voice hardening with impatience. "And don't lie to me."

You take a shaky breath, Sylus' proximity and touch making it hard to focus on anything else. "I...I needed some time to myself," you admit "To clear my head and think things through."

Sylus' hand stills on your breast, his fingers curling possessively around the soft mound. "Think things through about what?" he asks, there is something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the smooth surface of his voice.

You swallow hard, knowing you can't avoid the conversation any longer. "About us," you confess, the words falling from your lips "About what this...thing is between us. I didn't know how to handle it, so I left."

His lips brush against your shoulder, the ghost of a kiss that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the heat of his breath, the dampness of his tongue as he traces the curve of your collarbone. "Tell me, kitten," he breathes against your skin, "is this what you needed to escape from? Me, touching you like this? Wanting you like this?"

His hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Because if it is, I can make it so much worse. Or so much better," Sylus promises darkly "All you have to do is say the word, sweetie."

"Who is she, sy?" You whisper, words barely audible but you know he heard you. Sylus' teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips curling into a smirk against your flesh. He knows exactly what you're asking, but he's in no hurry to answer, not when he has you like this bare, breathless, and at his mercy.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, the dampness of the water that clings to you. "You know, for someone who needed to clear their head, you seem awfully focused on her." Sylus' hand slides down to your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your backside as he holds you close.

"Ira is someone I knew from my past. We were discussing a mutual investment opportunity. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about."

"Is that so?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He nips at your neck again, a little harder this time, sending a jolt of sensation straight down your spine.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But I must admit, it's...intriguing. Seeing this side of you, the side that wants to claw and scratch and mark what's hers."

He spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. With a sharp tug, he yanks the towel down, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. Your nipples pebble instantly, peaks tightening under the sudden exposure and the intensity of Sylus' gaze. His hands slide up your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, teasing the sensitive skin. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the evidence of his power and strength, the way he could take you and claim you and make you his. His hands still on your breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, his eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath away. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, filled with raw emotion.

"What makes you think I could ever look at another woman the way I look at you?" Sylus asks "Do you have any idea what it's like, y/n, to be consumed by someone, to have them under your skin, in your blood, in every fucking beat of your heart?"

He leans in closer, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and the hunger that he keeps leashed, barely contained. His eyes flash with a mix of anger and pain, his grip on your breasts tightening almost uncomfortably. His voice drops to a low, fervent whisper "I've waited lifetimes for you, kitten, dreaming of the day I could hold you again, touch you again, make you mine again."

His thumb brushes over your nipple roughly "And this is what I get in return? You, running from me, doubting me?" Sylus' voice rises, the anger and the hurt bleeding through every word. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam, a smirk spreading across his face as he sees the fear and excitement in your eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Go ahead, kitten. Run. See how far you get before I catch you." Sylus' hand slides down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. "Run, If I catch you, I fuck you"

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill of fear and anticipation down your spine. Acting on instinct, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and turn to run, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you race up the stairs to your bedroom. You can hear Sylus' footsteps behind you, his long strides eating up the distance between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you reach the top of the stairs. You don't look back, you don't dare to see if he's close.

Just as you think you're about to reach the safety of your bedroom, you feel Sylus' Evol envelop you. An unseen force lifts you off your feet, strong and unyielding, pulling you back towards him. You let out a startled yelp, your hands grasping at the empty air as you're lifted higher, your bare breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

"Sylus!" you cry out, a mix of fear and excitement lacing your voice. You're suspended in mid-air, towel no longer wrapped over the lower half of your body, your legs kicking futilely as you try to find purchase on the carpeted stairs.

"Did I say you could run that far, kitten?" Sylus' voice comes from behind you. You feel his presence looming over you, the heat of his body, the power radiating off him in waves. "I told you, I'd catch you. And now, I'm going to claim my prize."

His hands grip your bare thighs, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he hoists you over his shoulder. He carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, his steps never faltering as he walks towards your bedroom. You find yourself staring at his back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches taut over the muscles beneath.

When he reaches your room, he kicks the door open, the wood slamming against the wall with a bang. He carries you inside and with a few more strides, he reaches the bed and tosses you onto it, your naked body bouncing on the mattress. You land on your back, your breasts heaving as you catch your breath. Sylus looms over you, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, a smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and bare before him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your heart pounding as you watch Sylus remove his clothing. He starts with his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly to the side. His fingers move to his shirt buttons next, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness, as if he's savoring the anticipation of revealing what lies beneath. As he shrugs off his shirt, your breath catches in your throat. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the defined muscles, the sculpted abs, the V that disappears into his pants. You remember how his skin feels beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and your core clenches with sudden, desperate need. His hands move to his belt next, undoing the buckle with a sharp tug. The leather slips from his pants, falling to the floor with a soft thud. He undoes his fly slowly, inch by inch, until finally, he's shoving his pants and boxers down his long legs. He kicks them off to the side.

Sylus stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You've seen me like this before," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "But I don't think you've ever really seen me. Not like I want you to see me." He crawls over you, his large frame covering your smaller one as he settles his hips between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your core. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"You should know very well that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, his voice low with emotion. "There is no love purer than mine" His eyes search yours, the intensity burning into your very soul. "But right now," he continues, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and dangerous. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His grip on your face tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

Before you can process it he's thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside you. A scream tears from his throat as he hilts himself fully, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. "FUCK!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls of your bedroom. At the same time, a scream of pleasure and surprise rips from your own throat, your back arching off the bed, "SYLUS!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as he stretches you, fills you, completes you in a way that feels so right and so perfect.

For a moment, he stays still, buried deep inside you, his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Then he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust. "Oh god, Sylus!" you cry out, your voice hitching and breaking as he drives into you again and again. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

He feels your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back. With an approving growl, he sits back on his knees, bringing you up with him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he changes the angle of his thrusts, now driving up into you from below. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his voice filled with lust. "Hold onto me, kitten. Wrap those pretty legs around me tighter." His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, meeting his upward thrusts with a force that steals your breath away

You can feel every thick, hard inch of him as he fills and stretches you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length. The new position allows him to go even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust. You throw your head back, a silent scream of ecstasy on your lips as the pleasure builds and builds inside you. Sylus knows your body intimately, understands what buttons to push, what touches will send you flying. And right now, he's determined to draw this out, to make this last as long as possible. He wants to feel you come undone around him again and again, wants to hear you scream his name until your voice is hoarse and raw. So he restrains himself, ignoring the desperate pleas of your body as your hips buck and writhe against his, seeking more friction, more stimulation.

He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hands avoid your throbbing clit, his lips and teeth avoid your aching nipples, even as they map your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin behind your ears.

"Please, Sylus," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. "Please, I need..." You can't even finish the sentence, too lost in sensation, too desperate for release.

"I know," Sylus murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly what you need, kitten. But I'm not going to give it to you. Not yet." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, a twist of his hips that has you seeing stars. "You're going to come on my cock when I say you can come on my cock," he commands "And not a moment before."

Sylus uses all his strength to drag your hips down his length with brutal force. Your body is no longer your own as he manhandles you, using you for his pleasure. Each powerful thrust drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, your tits bouncing wildly with every slam of his hips against yours.

"Fuck, your cunt feels incredible," Sylus growls, his eyes wild and fevered as he watches your body jolt and quake with his relentless pounding. "So fucking tight and wet and perfect. Made to take my cock". Your mind starts to go hazy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as he fucks you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your voice raw and broken as he rails into you. "Sylus, please, I can't...I can't..." But your protests only seem to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more demanding.

Sylus leans in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh at the top of your breast, marking you. He bites down hard enough to make you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure short circuiting your brain for a moment. As he releases your skin, he laves the reddened mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

"Do you want some help, kitten?" Sylus murmurs, his voice a low against your skin. He rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, giving you a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. He waits for your response, his eyes glinting with a dark, knowing amusement. "Yes? No? Maybe so?" His tone is playful, taunting, as if he knows exactly what your answer will be. He reaches in between your bodies, his fingers find and circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, pushing you to the very edge of ecstasy. Your hips buck wildly against his hand, seeking more, craving more.

"Yes, Sylus," you manage to gasp out" Please..please..please.." Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin.

 "That's my good girl," he purrs, rewarding your submission with a hard thrust. "Now, come for me, kitten. Come all over my cock. Let go, y/n . Give yourself to me completely."

With that command, Sylus leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over your nipple, the wet heat sending a shock of pleasure through your body. At the same time, his fingers pinch your sensitive clit, rolling it, tugging on it, giving you the direct stimulation you've been aching for. The dual sensation is too much for you to withstand. Your body seizes up, back arching in a semicircle, as a intense orgasm crashes over you. "SYLUS!" you scream, your voice echoing off the walls, as wave after wave of ecstasy radiates out from your core, consuming you entirely. Sylus buries himself deep inside you once again, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he also finds his release. "Fuck, y/n , fuuuuuck!" his hot seed erupting from his cock and painting your insides. You can feel every twitch, every spurt of his thick come as he fills you up. Sylus' hips jerk and stutter, grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, pushing his seed deeper with every movement.

He collapses on top of you, his muscular frame blanketing your smaller one, pinning you to the mattress. He's still buried deep inside your fluttering, over sensitive heat, his softening cock plugging you up, trapping his seed inside you. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he comes down from his intense high. He takes a moment to marvel at the utterly debauched picture you make, hair mussed, skin flushed and slick with sweat, your bodies still joined intimately.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as I'm willing" Sylus murmurs, his voice low and intimate "but now I have a condition" His eyes bore into yours, the crimson depths swirling with unreadable emotions. "If you are not there then I'm not interested. "This," he gestures vaguely at the bedroom, but you know he means more than just the physical space, "means nothing without you in it."

Sylus' hand slides down to rest over your racing heart, feeling it beat against his palm. "You are my home, my haven. The one constant I crave." His voice drops to a fervent whisper, heavy with unspoken emotion. "So that condition is you must be there. Always. Or I will not settle for anything less."

[grogumaximus]

Getting here was his lifelong dream. Is it how he imagined it?

"When you're a kid, you dream of just driving. Instead, I realized that F1 isn't just about getting in a car and racing, but there's also a lot more outside to learn to manage."

Did you also have to adapt your character, which has always been very friendly and open?

"I've changed a lot in the last year, to protect myself. I've realized that private things should remain private and I try to be careful."

Your debut in the rain surprised everyone. What do you like about racing in the wet?

"To be honest, I don't know. It's always come naturally to me in single-seaters. And to think that I didn't like it at all in karts."

In the rain in 2020 he had a bad accident in which he broke his leg. How do you get back into wearing a helmet after an episode like that?

"Maybe that's also why I didn't like the rain in karts. When I returned to the track the year after the accident I really struggled in the rain. I kept going thanks to passion and experience but initially it was a shock."

Was it difficult to overcome?

"Yes, because when something like this has never happened to you, you don't think it could happen to you. It takes time to accept it and to understand how to move forward, how to run without fear again."

This weekend he will be racing his first home race in F1. How exciting will it be?

"I'm so happy. On Friday I'll arrive directly from my house in Bologna and sleep in my own bed before going to the track. It's also my little sister's birthday, so I can celebrate with her."

Will there be someone special by his side?

"My whole family, my best friends and even my classmates. Since I can't go on school trips, I thought I'd take them to the track with me over the weekend."

His father is following him in all the races of the season. How does he help him?

"We analyze each session together to see where I can improve. And then dad is my rock, he is the one I can always count on and having his support in this very important year for me is fundamental."

Among the challenges of this year there will also be the Maturity exam to take. Are you ready?

"I'm a little nervous. Unfortunately I won't be able to take the exams with my classmates because I have competitions in that period, but I want to get there, also to make my mother proud, she means a lot to me."

He has an extraordinary memory: He can remember all the times he has achieved on the track over the years. Is this talent a help in F1?

"I'm not sure where this ability comes from. When I want to beat a time it sticks in my head and remembering the ones from previous years allows me to understand the conditions of the track. Let's say that in general it helps me to arrive prepared, but I don't do it on purpose, it just happens."

We often see you with Verstappen. Do you get along?

"I think people can get the wrong idea about Max: on the track he's an animal but off it he's a very nice guy. We really like GT and simulator racing, we have a lot in common."

You took Hamilton's place at Mercedes. Does the comparison weigh on you?

"No, because I know I'm not his replacement. I simply feel like the new Mercedes driver and I'm grateful for the opportunity that has been given to me."

His girlfriend Eliska was a go-kart racer. Is it important for her to know the environment?

"A lot. She doesn't compete anymore, she's chosen to focus on her studies, but the fact that she understands everything that goes into it helps me. And then when she comes with me to the paddock she knows how to move, I know that if I leave her alone she won't have any problems".

How is the relationship with Peter Bonnington, your race engineer?

"Very nice. At the beginning I saw him a bit tense because I'm a very physical guy, I like to hug people, touch them, and "Bono" wasn't used to it, he's more "British". Now that he's opening up I'm very happy when he comes to hug me".

Are the goals you set before the start of the season the same ones you have today?

"No, now they've got up. We have a competitive car and we've achieved some great results. Now I want the first podium, that's the next goal. And then we'll think about the first win."

Is there anything you miss about having a normal life?

"Since I was little I've gotten used to living a life different from my peers. But running is what I love, what I've always wanted to do and what I'll want to do for the rest of my life. Nothing really weighs me down."

[inspector-m3]

Thomas shelby x male reader drabble thingy idk

I've started watching peaky blinders and Im ill which made me think of this and it wont go away so now it's everyone else's problem too.

I've only watched one season so far so might bot be accurate to his character but im trying ;-;

warnings?: mentions of war, scars (not SH), possible PTSD stuff?? violence, alcohol, swearing...im really bad at warnings but i think that's everything unless you need a warning for the french too (jk)

Thinking about Thomas Shelby who owes you a favour. You own your own little group of miscreants but you dont deal with guns or betting, you grew a hate for guns after the war and made a rule to anyone who entered your pub that no guns were allowed. And you didn't do betting because there was too mich competition and dick measuring going on.

What you did deal in and make a living off of, was information, connections, you knew how to get things and what people had done behind closed doors, you were the eyes and ears in the walls. So of course Thomas had come to you for information, but he knew you wouldn't give it for free which is why he offered you a favour.

"anythin you want...any time, just for the information on the blokes I wrote down on that paper"

He says to you, and you take the offer, having the favour of a peaky blinder was valuable.

But what you weren't prepared for was how you'd use this favour.

It's late at night, your group had gotten into some trouble, a fight with another group that you'd prodded the bear with too much. You loose a few of your men, and that bothered you but what shook you the most out of your calm composure was the use of guns in that fight, the ringing was still in your ears as you stood outside Thomas Shelby's door.

When he opens the door you dont even greet him, just blurt out.

"im cashing in that favour. "

To which he raises an eyebrow but lets you in anyways, waiting silently as he tries to neaten his hair, messed up by a rough sleepless night.

"fuck......can i stay?...just for the night?"

You quickly realise how that sounds and sigh before trying to fix it.

"shit, not like that...i just...i just need to hear a heartbeat that isn't my own"

And somehow you got the great Thomas Shelby to agree on your favour, he convinces himself that it's just a favour, that it doesn't mean anything. But the fact you came to him instead of anyone else almost warmed his cold heart. He knew how it felt when the war wouldn't leave, when it made a home in your head and buried itself deep into your bones so that when they creak all you remember are the cries of your comrades.

So there you are, settled on his bed with your head on his chest, listening to the soft thuds of his heart. Your arms are tucked closely to yourself, trying to have the only contact being your head on his chest because this was humiliating enough as it was.

Your eyes close as you focus on the sound of his heart, it drowns out the sound of guns from both today's fight and the war, the sound of your own heart beating too fast because your body seems to still think there's a frenchman nearby and waiting with another gun.

You don't even realise you fell asleep until you wake up to the unfortunate reality that people tend to move in their sleep, finding your arms entwined around Thomas, your legs tangled with his.

Thomas himself was just as surprised when he hadn't heard any shovels that night and then awoke to see his hand ever so gently cradling your head to his chest, almost as a reflex he brushes his thumb across your shortly cropped hair. His eyes trail down, only now noticing the scars from war across your back and arms, he almost touched them and would've if he didn't know that it would probably wake you up.

You both untangled yourselves and lay apart and in silence when you were more awake.

"....this never happened."

You both agree in silence, knowing what would happen if anyone found out as well as the risk of getting attached which was never even thought about by either of you.

It was never spoken of again, both of you going back to just business, you almost forgot about it too.

Until you were sat in your pub, drinking peacefully with the chatter of the men, only to be disturbed when Thomas Shelby walks in, looking more unnaproachable than usual, he makes a beeline for you and murmurs something you weren't expecting.

"i need a heartbeat"

and it clicked, it was like an accidental secret code because no-one else knew what happened that night.

[fanaticsnail]

Every day I wake up and think "Why is there no Childhood Friends Doflamingo x Reader fics?" and every day one of my Discord friends tell me "because Kid Doffy would literally treat Kid Reader like someone beneath him cus everything is still fresh for him" but I bring you counterarguments for the Childhood Friends Doflamingo x Reader story:

1. He meets Reader after his house gets burned down. Reader is Rosinante's age, so eight years old. It's when DQ brothers are being beaten by the thugs; kid Reader gets a bat and protects him and Rosinante from the thugs who were beating on them over bread

2. she brings them food from the restaurant her parents own - home cooked - and meets Homing & Mrs Donquixote, who encourage Doffy & Rosi to befriend her but Doffy remains careful

3. Doffy has confused feelings about Reader but she's only ever treated his injuries (the first human not to hurt him) so he decides Reader is "his human to protect" not "human to enslave" yep he has groups in his mind, little crazy baby flamingo boy

4. Reader teaches Doffy & Rosinante to climb trees. Doffy comments that's what monkeys do, but Reader teases him that whether it is what monkeys do, he still can't reach her if he doesn't climb. Doffy accepts the challenge. He doesn't take long to get the hang of it. Right when he is nearly at the top, he nearly falls but Reader grabs his hand and pulls him onto the branch. I think this is where Doffy starts having a little crush on Reader. He doesn't realise that's what it is.

5. I don't know Ace, Sabo, Luffy I know Doffy, Rosi & Reader. Sure they would not be as wild as ASL since the thugs in North Blue are probably much more deadlier than in East Blue, but they'd be good thieves.

6. Reader is so gentle with Rosi and Doffy gets jealous and says his brother is a crybaby and Reader shouldn't help him, he needs to learn on his own. Reader just blows Doffy a raspberry which makes Rosinante giggle - the first time Rosinante has laughed since their house burned down

I just think if we just put in some thought, it can be plausible for Kid Doffy to have Kid Reader as a friend in his childhood days. He'd feel challenged by a "human", someone younger than him, and want to prove his heavenly status, why he's better. Reader just nods along with it and is kind to them both. They don't do any sort of competitions, they just co-exist.

Kid Doffy is like a street cat. He bites and scratches, and tries to claw your face off, but it's cause he's been through terrible shit and he doesn't trust strangers. He needs patience and kindness.

The fic would require just some patience and kindness I think, for the childhood part of their story, so Doflamingo by the end of it considers Reader precious to him to the point he thinks he is the best person to protect her. That it's his duty. He'd probably call himself her heavenly guardian or sth in his mind when he reaches that point.

Of course, that then can turn into him becoming very possessive of Reader as they grow up (Doffy even when becoming the young 10-11 year old leader seems to stick to one headquarters in that timeframe) and his crush from childhood evolving through time from protectiveness into a wish for a romantic relationship.

Anyway, kid Doffy & kid Rosinante deserve to have a friend during that terrible time, and they both latch onto that little amount of kindness, they appreciate it a lot. Doflamingo only realises it later down the line how much it meant for him Reader supported him.

They show appreciation for that differently later. Doffy comes into the restaurant Reader inherited from her parents all the time and makes sure everyone in the North Blue knows that's his territory, and the place where his crew gathers to celebrate things. He always sends Reader gifts such as jewelry, and kisses her on both cheeks whenever he sees her, using the excuse of it being a custom in Dressrosa to his advantage. Rosinante shows his love with hugs. When he sees Reader when he's Corazon he just hugs her. He doesn't give a shit.

Also, Reader & Kid Law & Baby 5... Reader would feed them all the food and pamper them.

Doffy can't go without Reader's home cooked meals. Food is very important to him, I think, after experiencing starvation. He probably invites her to join the crew as their chef cook when they head for the Grand Line. If not...

Well, kidnapping you is always an option 🤣

(he would lie about what happened to Rosinante. either that or get completely drunk and cry in your lap, confessing everything. You know what, I like the latter. Let the big man cry. I love pathetic drunk Doffy.)

- Yandere Doffy Anon

Okay okay okay okay okay. This was gorgeous. I am in love, and all of the relationships with all of the kids, and the coddling of Rosi. Yes. Please. I love their relationship, the silent confusion in the "what is this feeling" -> it's addictive, and I love it. "My human to protect" WHERE DO I SIGN UP????

Here is my interpretation of what childhood friendship would look like with Doflamingo.

What about a young son of a celestial dragon having regular interactions with a contractually bound daughter of another celestial dragon? And then he's taken away from you by his father? Doflamingo x f!reader image.

Your parents schedule regular playdates with one another so your faces do not grow lost on you both over time. From toddlerhood, to childhood, your friendship grew with your betrothed spouse as you both read with one another, and made puzzles and sculptures together. He pulled your hair, you brushed off his glasses, he bit you on the hand, and you cried to your maid.

You are a bit stuffy and spoilt, but what child of the pinacle of society isn't? Similar to Doflamingo, it is your birthright to be treated with the utmost respect and worshipful adoration.

But your heart becomes kind.

When becoming lost in a crowd of unfamiliar faces, the kindness of a stranger who knew nothing of your face changes you from a prissy young miss to a girl spun in webs of charity and compassion.

It makes the young Doflamingo disgusted seeing you interact and thank his servants when they fix you and him lunch. Conversing so freely with the chaperone, asking questions about his children, it makes the eight year old sick. He'd rather trick them into being scolded and thrashed.

When Donquixote Homing defects, the ties that strung you together lay severed and desolate. The friendship between you forbidden, but your mind often wanders into what had become of him. You both had this unspoken hatred and the closest friendship with one another any two children could have.

Inseperable.

Until you were separated.

It took four adults to restrain you from running to him in the council chambers. Hearing Doflamingo had returned with Homing's head, you had nearly lost yours with glee at his return. When he was denied a rise in reinstating his former title, you were overwhelmed with a grief beyond your years in capacity.

Over the decades, you wondered what had become of him. Your heart had been broken when your father renounced your coupling. Each time a potential spouse was presented to you, you would shut it down with haste. Although you were only young, you spoke with such indignation regarding your disdain for such an alliance. What if this one was taken from you too? Nothing would ever match up to him.

They would never be Doflamingo, and you refused to be the spouse of anyone who didn't meet his equal. His insanity mirrored a darkness in your heart that you had since clothed in kindness. He was your absolute, the stop at the end of the line. He was yours, and you were his completely.

When Tsuru had invited you to the first gathering of seven warlords of the sea, you had no idea what to expect. No matter what you prepared yourself with, your readiness mattered not for the sight that was to welcome you in. Charity was your character, and your humility is what made you the chosen celestial dragon the world government asked to converse with the most.

Pink feathers, rosy glasses, blonde hair, and a sinister grin you had long since burried, had your chest swell and eyes flood with every emotion. Silence was all you offered in your shock, your face shrouded behind a veiled cloth you often travelled with.

You knew exactly who you were looking at, and he had no idea it was you. The way his presence demanded attention, his sinister playfulness with Sir Crocodile and Tsuru, the way he openly taunted the former Marine Hunter Mihawk: each motion captured your soul and held you hostage.

It was only when Tsuru had asked you to speak did you stifle the warmth in your chest. You knew Doflamingo would likely hold disgust for the Celestial Dragons due to their lack of restoration, and you chose to ignore him - just as he ignored you.

When your attendants removed the veil from your extravagant headpiece, the first sound to travel through the realm was a collective gasp. You were young, a woman, and incredibly beautiful. Nothing any of the seven warlords were expecting was anything amounting to a single scrap of you. And you chose to play coy to the slack-jawed blonde in the corner.

After speaking your well rehearsed speech, Tsuru thanked you with her head bowing low, encouraging the other marines to pay their respects in kind. Sir Crocodile offered you a polite bow alongside Kuma and Jinbe. Mihawk tipped his hat to you, which you nodded in kind.

Immediately rising to his feet, Doflamingo's arms hung limp as his lips lay parted and almost quivering. His hands shook, his shoes feeling like lead in lieu of leather, and he finally stood before you. Your attendants sprung up to your side, your guardians guiding their hands to the hilts of their weapons: only ceasing when you hold up your own hand to stop them.

With that same hand, you hover it in front of Doflamingo's face, guiding it in an intimate expression without ever colliding with his skin. He rises his own, mirroring your motions and causing your eyes to flutter shut. An inaudible movement of your name courses through his lips, no sounds to voice them other than a single breath.

"Time has not been kind to you, mi amor," you whisper, Doflamingo's knees buckling at the tone your voice had grown into. It was the greatest symphony he had ever heard, the voice of his childhood friend blossoming into the bloom of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Time saved all it's kindness for you, mi querida," he managed string together beneath his petrification.

The room was silent, all watching in awe as the most detestable inhabitant in the council chambers was brought to his knees with a single look from a powerful woman. The familiarity had Tsuru's stomach tighten, wondering if extending an invitation to you was in her best interest. Although, seeing Doflamingo behave with his absolute best manners had her lip twitch up at the corner.

He was yours again. A man who was once everything, became nothing, and built himself up to something again. And he was yours.

And he couldn't be happier to be in your presence once more. Why else would he have fought so hard to rise to the top? For mere power alone?

No. That is far too simple. He is far from simple. It was for the chance to be once again worthy to stand in your presence and kneel at your feet as an equal in potential matrimony. But would you still have him after all the time that had passed between you?

Only you held that answer.

Edit to add, I got distracted by the roast chicken and forgot to add the tag list. I'm sorry everyone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[hemi-demi]

Not my usual post but something I've been thinking about lately.

I think a part of what bothers me the most about the AI generated images/writing/etc debate is folks claiming that they need it because of a lack of talent and skill. Even going so far as to call it an accessibility device.

Which, as a disabled person, boils my blood. Because I think where this comes from is not in the same way as like a curb-cut levels things out for everyone. It's based on impossible standards in literally every piece of media we consume, and I think that's something we can change, rather than forcing people to use a bland device to meet the rest of the world at their level.

Folks are telling themselves they need AI images because becoming an artist takes time, and money, and effort. Some disabled folks don't have the dexterity to hold a pen, or can't sit upright at a computer for hours (me), or can't process visual information in the same way as others. Those are all true statements.

Same with writing. Dyslexia and other learning disorders can make writing intimidating. People receive harsh judgement for things like having poor sentence structure or spelling, even if you as a reader still know exactly what they mean.

The solution to these issues is not "pay an AI company to steal from other creators so everything washes into the same, boring grey blob of creativity". It's make bad art.

I want to see people's art where they don't have a full grasp of anatomy, but try their best anyway. I want to see stories where someone might struggle with visualizing a scene, but they do their best to convey the meaning in whatever way they can. I want to see more people comfortable with posting less than perfect work, and being proud of it because they made it. Or not even feel the need to post at all, because at the end of the day, the little numbers on your screen will never be the most satisfying part of creating. (Telling myself this as well, tbh. It's hard, I get that.)

If everyone is equally good at creating work, then there's never any variety. You can learn just as much, if not more so, from bad art than good. You can find beauty in it, unique ideas or habits that others have dropped because they were told it wasn't proper. You can see pure creative expression, without being chained to traditional conventions taught in school that beat all the fun out of you to make your work marketable.

We're taught in school that other artists are our competition, so of course people are turning to these tools to try and get a leg up. They never learned what a collaborative art or writing community can look like, and how that actually helps you grow as an artist more than AI or self isolation ever could.

If someone is drawing their entire lives, and never gets any more skilled at it for one reason or another, there's nothing wrong with that. That art is just as valid, and just as beautiful.

I understand that people feel this pressure to stand out in a sea of artists who worked their asses off to get where they are, but turning all art and writing into this regurgitation of what has worked before will never bring new ideas into the world in the same way a bored kid with a pencil and notebook paper can. It just won't.

[icycoldninja]

hey ive been wanting to request you for so long but i was too scared lol.. i like your dmc stuff and i want to request a vergil x reader enemies to lovers story please. i dont lmow what else to ask for you can just do whatever as long as its really juicy and they really hate but desire each other. you can make it spicy too if you want. 💙

Aww, don't be scared! Ninjas only bite when they're completely out of options anyway. I chose to keep things clean because I felt it would suit the situation more. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for requesting! 💜 💜

Blood boil (Vergil x Reader enemies to lovers)

Ooh, that damn Vergil Sparda, how he made your blood boil.

Every time you guys went on a mission together, he always made it a point to show you up by actively getting in the way and stealing your kill. Then, he'd gloat at you.

He'd never say anything outright, but you could see it in his eyes, the was he sneered with his eyebrows while simultaneously glaring down the bridge of his stupid nose at you. It was infuriating, but you couldn't say anything because that would just give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin, which made you even more angrier than you would have been if you just stayed silent, which you did.

But GODDAMMIT, why did Vergil always have to be so damn perfect at everything?! Why was he always trying to show he was better than you in front of everyone you knew, and worse yet, why was he succeeding? Sure, he might be half demon or something like that, but that doesn't make him an instant genius capable of any task! He hunted devils faster and more efficiently than you, always beat you when you were training, was the first at the door when deliveries came, was the first one to the car and also the first one inside, he even called shotgun before you even thought about it—whenever a competition arose, no matter what you did, Vergil always came out on top. And he always rubbed it in your face with that nasty sneer. Fuck him.

But then there were those times when Vergil didn't seem like a complete jackass, such as when you sustained a particularly painful injury during a fight. He would be there, swift as the wind itself, already working on patching you up and getting you to a safe place. He'd never say anything, and you could never put aside your pride long enough to thank him, but his actions spoke louder than his lack of words, and yours (you would later make/buy him lunch or dinner as a thank you) made up for your lack of spoken gratitude.

Ok, so maybe you don't hate Vergil as much as you would like to believe, but surely he hates you! Just look at how he treats you, always opening doors before you can reach them, grabbing things he knows you want right off the shelves, only to decide he doesn't want them anymore and toss them into your arms later. He always makes you switch seats with Dante whenever you're watching movies together because he knows you hate sitting next to him, and he's always following you around—borderline psycho behavior—and always happens to be there whenever shady figures show up at your door.

Hmm.

Maybe he doesn't hate you as much as you think he does either.

Or, maybe he does, and you're just delusional.

Damn it all! Damn him!

Your train of thought was cut short when you rounded the corner (you had been taking a walk to clear your head and inadvertently got more worked up in the process) and almost bumped into Vergil, who was no doubt shadowing you again.

"Oh hey," You said, more sulkily than you intended. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just strolling," Vergil answered stiffly. "And you?"

"The same, more or less," You admitted, with a sigh. Somehow, you both wordlessly concluded that it would be safe to continue your stroll together.

And so, you walked together, not making eye contact, nor small talk, nor any kind of physical contact in the slightest, for about ten minutes. As a large bird of unidentifiable breed sailed overhead, screeching rather irritatingly, you turned and mumbled,

"Nice weather, huh?"

"Indeed," Vergil agreed, shifting his gaze from you, to the trees ahead of him, to the group of people crossing the street, to what looked like a stray cat pawing at someone's mailbox, then back to you.

"How's Nero?" You asked half heartedly, since you didn't know what else to say.

"Doing well," Said Vergil in a voice you could barely hear.

"Ah," Was all you could say after that.

The two of you kept walking, looking at everything around you except each other, but after a few minutes, you found your eyes drifting towards Vergil's hand, which swung back and forth slightly as he walked. It looked rough and war-torn, but despite that, you kind of wanted to hold it. It looked meaty, and firm, and generally seemed fun to squeeze. Tentatively, you reached out and tried to wrap your fingers around his, expecting him to recoil in terror at your touch. To your great surprise, he didn't; once your hand closed around his, he clamped his fingers down on yours like a vice and refused to let go, even after you pulled.

"Vergil...?" You began, confused and slightly afraid. Vergil did not answer. Instead, he glanced down the bridge of his nose at you, but not in that prideful manner you were accustomed to receiving. Instead, there was warmth in his eyes; a gentle smile on his face, a smile that sent jolts of electricity through your entwined hands, up your arm, and into your brain, instantaneously causing you to realize this might be love.

Oh God.

You were in love.

With him, that rat bastard.

Well, ok, maybe he wasn't that much of a bastard...but still.

"Vergil...?" You repeated, this time shakier in tone. Once again, Vergil answered you with another electrifying smile, but this time, he also gave your arm a good tug, pulling you closer to him, coincidentally causing your head to bump against his chest, where it stayed. Truth be told, it wasn't so bad. You honestly wouldn't mind staying like this for a little while longer.

You hadn't changed your mind, though, Vergil still made your blood boil, just...in a...different context.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

TGCF couples at the beach

Because i want to go to the beach so bad rn

HuaLian:

Hua Cheng isnt too fond of the sun or the water but gege said he'd like to go so they're going.

Everything is fancy and luxurious, only the best for gege.

A large beach bed with a canopy, drinks and snacks served at all times, the whole nine yards.

He wears those fancy sunscreen lotions with foreign names cause he may be dead but he also burns easily and turns into a big baby about it.

Xie Lian insists they dont need to do all that and can just chill in the sand with a towel, which Hua Cheng finds preposterous.

They have a big ass umbrella over the canopy bed too cause the sun is a deadly laser.

So much affection - cuddling, kissing, being all sweet and lovey, feeding each other watermelon and gathering seashells

Theyre sickeningly sweet

Hua Cheng is able to keep his hands to himself for about 5 seconds max

If there are any noisy kids or families around, Hua Cheng sends Yin Yu to scare them off

(They take Yin Yu with for this express purpise but hey free all inclusive vacation, a win is a win)

Xie Lian never burns ever and refuses to wear sunscreen. Hua Cheng pouts about it because 1) dont want gege to get a sunburn and 2) cant teasingly rub lotion over him smh

Hua Cheng builds one of those fancy sand statues of Xie Lian and he thinks its the most romantic thing ever

It is

So many kisses in the water and swimming together all lovey

Hua Cheng is never seen not drinking a margarita

"You do not need to keep your swim trunks that low, San Lang." "Gege, tan lines are terrible."

BeefLeaf

SQX cant get He Xuan out of the water once they arrive to the beach. Nope. That is his habitat now. He belongs to the fishes.

SQX rents out beach chairs by the bar because how can one tan without a drink in hand?

Skimpy swimsuits because SQX also abides by the tan lines are the devil mentality

Manages to get He Xuan out of the water with the promise of ice cream

Talking shit about everyone around while eating ice cream and drinking martinis

So many seashells. He Xuan gives them to SQX as an offering aw

"XuanXuan you cant drown people that say indecent things about me!" "Who says" "the law??"

He Xuan brings SQX little fish he catches if they look colorful or pretty

"XuanXuan, put some tanning oil on my back!" And He Xuan spends like 10 mins trying to find the correct bottle because SQX brought like 50 and the tanning oil SQX wants looks like literally every other bottle there

So many selfies

He Xuan digs tunnels in the sand whenever he isnt in the water. SQX has to talk him into not using the Earth Master shovel

Theyre checking out hot people together

He Xuan puts on sunglasses to pretend he isnt staring at SQX

"XuanXuan you cant throw jellyfish at children!!"

SQX flirts their way into free drinks and He Xuan broods about it but also he is deeply in debt so he can't turn down free shit lmao

FengQing

Arguing, so much arguing, but hey thats their love language

"Thats a shit spot for a towel" "okay find a better one then" "here!" "Thats like a foot away whats the difference??"

Feng Xin refuses to put on sunscreen cause he thinks its not manly

"You cant beat the fucking sun, Feng Xin!"

Mu Qing refuses to get his hair wet. Feng Xin makes it a point to dunk him in the water at least once

Feng Xin falls asleep in the sun like an old man and Mu Qing draws dicks on him with sunscreen lmfao

They argue about who goes to get drinks and snacks and just end up going together

Feng Xin insists to exclusively drink beer until he tries one of Mu Qing's deadly cocktail combinations and hes hooked. He insists they add a little umbrella to his drink now so he and Mu Qing match

Sand castles competition turned chasing into the waves turned underwater kisses

Mu Qing judges everyone and Feng Xin cant help adding in to the commentary because its surprisingly entertaining

Beach sports! Theyre so competitive too so its extra fun and they make bets over everything

[cherryswisherz]

WILSHIRE

♱ CONTAINS: semi happy ending, kissing

♱ NIYAHSPEAKS: this is long as hell and most of it is written as flashbacks but here we areeeeee s/o my tyler fans CHROMOKOPIA 10-28 !!!! i'm finna do yall requests over the weekend because i have nothing else to do so... be prepared!

♱♱♱♱

it's the 2024 wnba draft. azzi's my plus one. nika and aaliyah are getting drafted tonight and i'm trying to keep my cool. because tonight is about them, not about me, not about azzi, not about our summer of utter fucking confusion.

lights from cameras flash. i smile, i mog, i pose. reporters are shoving mics in my face asking stupid questions as i guide azzi off the red carpet with my hand in a respectful position on her back. we have to find the girls before the draft starts. azzi wants to meet them before so it's not awkward at the after party. i'm trying to tune everything out but 6 words take me back to june and i freeze in my tracks.

"what's going on between you two?"

met you on a saturday knew it was somethin' soon as you spoke it eye fucking across the table, don't think anybody noticed you asked me if I was coming to the city you from maybe we should kick it, i was interested that would be dumb, if i denied

"paige..." that was the only thing she'd said directly to me all night. the rest of the time she'd spoke to everyone, answering their questions about how she met ethan, what her major was, etc. 

i'd been staring at her as she did this. studying the way she spoke with her hands, the flutter of her lashes, the bounce of her curls. her voice was so sweet and she always smiled when she wasn't talking so i could see her perfect fucking teeth. 

"where you from?" someone, i couldn't remember who, asked and she threw a glance my way, looking me dead in my eyes for a split second. 

i knew where she was from. we played against each other every year in high school. i was a year ahead of her. we never really paid attention to each other off the court, but i knew she was a killer player and an acl injury during her junior year took her out of the game for good

"uh- i'm from virginia. arlington county." she smiled as she cut her chicken. "me and paige played each other before i had to quit." she looked at me again, longer this time, and i damn near melted into the chair before she put her attention back on the conversation. 

"yeah she gave me a run for my money." i laughed, and that made her look at me again. she seemed confused, probably because i hadn't spoken this entire time. 

"my schools giving you a run for your money." she giggled and it was the most perfect sound i'd ever heard. "they say you're gonna be back when you guys play us next month. any truth to that?"

the competitive side of me took over when i answered her. "yeah i'll be back to tap dance on yalls ass in your own arena." 

"i guess we're in trouble then, huh?" she asked, her big brown eyes boring into mine.

you and i make sense, you stayed back at my telly we was chattin' 'til morning, vibration was heavy i wasn't drowning or yawning that's when i told you my feelings you told me you felt the same but you got homie you dealin' with damn, i didn't know, that's a bit unexpected but i get it, it's whatever, least i can do is respect it

after that dinner, azzi and i hadn't stopped texting and facetiming. it felt wrong because she was my friends girl, but i couldn't leave her alone. i wanted to be near her even if i couldn't see her in person until my team played hers. 

as predicted, we beat their ass and i made sure to remind azzi of that the whole ride back to her apartment. and when we got there, i took off my hoodie and plopped onto the couch. 

"so what we doing tonight? you wanna go out or stay in?" i asked her, praying she said stay in because i was dead tired. 

"definitely stay in." she said, sitting beside me on the couch. "lets put on a movie or something." 

and we did. we put a movie on. now did we watch the movie? no. 

we started talking, just yapping about any and everything. i was totally wrapped up in what she had to say, whether it was about school, or music, or anything really. i wasn't even tired anymore, she had my full attention. 

but then the conversation shifted to basketball and azzi's mood shifted with it. 

"sometimes i try and run 1v1 with ethan and for a second, i forget that my leg is fucked. for those 45 minutes i feel like everything is how i planned it to be." she looks at her knee poking out of her ripped jeans, then she rubs her scar. "and then i stand on it the wrong way and i remember that i'm not a player anymore. just a fan." the crack her voice forces me to grab her and pull her into me, letting her sob into my chest.

"az, you'll always be a baller. that shit's in your spirit ma." i almost wanna cry with her. "and even though you can't play anymore, you're one of the most beautiful people on the planet. and you're smart and you could do anything you wanted to do, basketball be damned."

a few minutes passed and she sniffled, looking up at me, and i got lost her red eyes and wet lashes. our faces were so close together, i could feel her breath on my nose. 

"i really like you azzi." 

fuck.  i shouldn't have said that.  she has a boyfriend.  her boyfriend is my fucking friend she's probably stra-

"i really like you too p." 

oh?

"but i'm with ethan. and he's good for me."

oh.

anyway, convince him to bring you to me so we can kick it right in front of his lenses, since nothing here is malicious you sat by me in that movie we went outside for them doobies we walkin' off when we talk man, that nigga not fucking stupid

"you should bring azzi to storrs with you." i suggested to ethan. "does she like horror movies?"

"uhhh yeah i think so..." he trailed off then scard the hsit out of m. "AZ! YOU WANNA COME WATCH A MOVIE WITH US?" i guess she asked who all was coming. "JUST ME AND PAIGE!" and then i guess she said yes. "okay paige, we'll be there in like 30." 

at the movies, in the five minutes i was waiting for them, i checked my hair 4 times, rearranged my jewelry twice and made sure my breath didn't smell like lunch. and when they got there i choked on my spit because azzi was wearing a sundress that hugged her in every right way. 

i honestly dont think there could be a wrong way. 

when she hugged me she whispered "i missed you." in my ear and dropped a light kiss on my neck that left me flushed. 

in the theater, i sat between her and ethan but we didn't really pay him any attention

"you look really good paige." azzi whispered to me. 

i looked down at my basic ass outfit (wifebeater and sweats), that i spiced up with jewelry and some fire shoes. "girl, this is lightweight." i whispered back.

"yeah well you look good in anything." 

"you look good too az," 

"you think so?" she's fishing.

"if your boyfriend wasn't next to me we wouldn't just be talking right now." i laughed, taking her bait. 

i got a laugh out of her and then she moved to hit me on the leg, but i caught her hand and tangled out fingers together, looking forward at the screen. she didn't move her hand. just set both of ours in my lap. and we stayed that way for like 15 minutes until she leaned into me and whispered again. 

"i hate horror movies, and he's snoring." she laughed pointing over me at her boyfriend who was knocked the fuck out. "can we leave?"

"yeah i got you." i thumped ethan on the head, causing him to jerk out of his sleep.  "yo. wake up, you're loud as hell. ya'll go home."

when we left the theater we walked out in silence but when we stared to say goodbye, azzi cleared her throat.

"actually, i wanna get something to eat really quick so, e, you can go home." she placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezing a little. "paige can you take me home after?"

my heart sped a little at the thought of being alone with her but i kept it P because her literal boyfriend was right next to me. 

"uh yeah if that cool with you?" i asked, not because i needed his permission, but because he's my friend and i wanted it. 

"yeah of course." he nodded then dapped me up "goodnight p."

"night." as soon as he was gone, i rubbed my hands together and looked down at azzi, catching those brown eyes in a way that made me think i never wanted to lose them. "so... where we boutta eat because im hungry as hell." 

"im not actually hungry, i just wanted to spend time with you." she said, putting her hands behind her back. "but you live here, so you pick."

"oh word?" i raised my eyebrows and put an arm around her shoulder, turning so we were side by side as we started walking towards my car. "imma take you to my spot."

"take me anywhere you like." she said, opening the passenger door, leaving me looking over the roof of my car, trying to keep it together until i got in the driver seat and began to queue a few songs. 

then i got a text. 

ethan: tell az to bring me a to-go plate

ethan. FUCK.

said you can't fully be into me 'cause you with him then why the fuck when we link it's like he doesn't exist? they all know that we're friends but we both aware that it's more everything i got, if you say the word, then it's yours

the party was loud as shit. i was drunk as shit. azzi was drunk as shit. ethan was nowhere to be found. 

"paige i have to peeeee." azzi whined into my ear. 

"okay come on." i shouted, guiding her to the bathroom, which was empty. 

while she was in the stall, i drank some water from the faucet, because i was so fucked up and i think that's why i haven't been able to stop thinking about her.

about how fucking hot she looked in her outfit. about how long her natural lashes were. about how soft her lips looked. about the heat radiating from her body as she danced with me. 

shes so fucking pretty.

"oh my god i feel so much better!" she shouted into the universe as she came out of the stall and started washing her hands. 

i think i just wanted to be close to her again because i moved behind her and hugged her from behind. with my head in her neck, i kissed her softly moaning quietly, "you smell so good, az." 

she turned around in my arms, facing me and i kept kissing her neck, moving to her collarbones, then i pulled away and we just stared at each other for a second. 

it was like a silent conversation, asking each other "are we really gonna do this?"

and i guess the answer was yes, because azzi leaned in and place a single peck on my lips, then pulled away with the speed of light. 

but one wasn't enough. so i leaned back in and enveloped her lips with mine. our mouths moved in perfect harmony, giving me everything i'd wanted since that dinner so long ago. she moaned into my mouth, and i picked her up, placing her on the sink behind her. 

we just kept kissing, caressing each others tongues, rolling our bodies into each others, both of us enjoying the way the other person felt. 

....until she pulled away, pushing me back when i chased her lips. 

"paige we can't." she said, trying to catch her breath. 

"azzi..."

"i have a boyfriend, paige." she sounded kind of sad as she said it. 

"i know az." i said, walking back up to her. "but tell me there's nothing here." i grabbed her hands. "tell me, that these past 3 months, you haven't felt what i feel."

"you know i do paige. i wouldn't have kissed you if i didn't." she looked at me with tears in her eyes. 

you told me when you're with me it's like heroin told me that your confidence went up since we befriended

"when im with you, i feel like i'm floating. like it's just us and that's all i'll ever need. you're-" she sniffled. "you're the only person who gets how much not being able to play fucking sucks. and you made me feel better about it. you make me feel like so much more than a fan, or just a person in the stands. and no one's ever made me feel that way."

and told me that you didn't wanna hurt him

"but ethan, p. ethan is my boyfriend. hes your friend. and he's so good to me. he loves me. and i can't do that to him."

why we doing this?

"so why kiss me then azzi?" i asked. "why the fuck would you let me touch you, or say the things we say, or let me buy you shit? why did you fucking kiss me?!" 

it was harsh, i know but she fucking played me and i was pissed. 

told me this a awkward situation and you just wanna be through with it

"i don't know paige. and i'm sorry." she kept crying. i assume she felt guilty, and i couldn't give less of a fuck. "this isn't easy for either of us. but i think we should just be friends. i don't wanna lose ethan, but i don't wanna lose you as a friend either. 

i snatched my hands out of hers and back away from her so fast, you would have though she had the plague. 

"friend? azzi. you were never 'a friend' to me. i liked you as soon as i saw you in that fucking restaurant. and i tried to be respectful. i tried to respect your relationship but you were the one who made me think you wanted me. you were the one lying to your fucking boyfriend to spend time with me. sneaking into the bathroom to facetime me at 11 at night. you were the one who kissed me. you. it was all fucking you. and now... now youre asking me to be friends? fuck outta here bro." i said, then walked out of the stall and out of the bar.

i know you could be it and everyone around me that care about me can see it i could fuck a trillion bitches every country i done been in men or women, it don't matter if i seen 'em, then i had 'em but with you, it's a feeling

i was still plastered, so i had nothing but time to think about the situation. 

i knew azzi and i could be great, if she just gave it- gave us- a chance. i knew she wanted to. i knew she felt what i was feeling. i'd have known even if she didn't say it. i also knew she didn't feel for ethan, what she felt for me. but she felt an obligation to him. why? i have no idea. but i just wish she would have made up her fucking mind before sticking her tongue down my throat. 

and i know what you're thinking. 

she just wanted to smash.

and that's not true. me and azzi aren't a quick fuck. 

i mean i'm not opposed to a quick fuck. it wasn't a secret that i was bit of a slut. i mean can you blame me? 

d1 athlete, making bank off NIL money. and every girl in every city i went to, wanted a piece of me. who was i to deny them? 

so yeah i guess you can say i got around, but none of that mattered when it came to azzi. she wasn't just a groupie looking for a quick fuck, or to be a basketball wife. she was a baller. if anything she wanted to live vicariously through me and compete again. and i was willing to let her do just that. 

azzi was the object of my affection for three fucking months. i knew everything about her. i fucking craved her. i knew it was wrong. i knew she was my friends girlfriend. but i couldn't quit her. 

my teammates could tell that i had feelings for her too. anytime i was on the phone for more than 10 minutes, they knew it was hr. they picked on my for it, calling me a simp. kk nicknamed me 'sidepiece' which was a nice change from 'community strap' but it stung worse. 

whatever. 

fuck her. 

you said you told him the truth and you never lied now he lookin' at you with them eyes we never crossed the line but he got every right to be a little pissed off he you picked up, y'all got in argument he got his shit off

two weeks after the bar incident, i'd somewhat gotten myself together. figured out how to sleep without her goodnight text. found new favorite spot to eat. slept with someone without seeing azzis face. i'd found a new routine. 

and then it all went to shit. 

"azzi? its 9:30 at night, why are you calling me?" she answered my question with a sob. "azzi baby what's wrong?

"paige... he- he knows.." she cried into the phone. 

"who knows what, az?"

"ethan!" more crying. "he-he-he asked me out no where if you and i had something going on."

"shit." 

"and i couldn't lie to him paige. i told him we never had sex, but-but i told him how i felt about you, and that i kissed you and he just went off." she was crying so hard, i could narely understand her. "he said he should have known not to trust me around you when i told him i was bi, and that you couldn't let him have one thing, and that he couldn't look at me and- and- and-" she started hyperventilating. 

"azzi baby i need you to calm down for me. breathe babe." i mimicked the way she should breathe and got her to calm down enough to listen to me. "azzi. i'm gonna come get you. send me your location and just stay there and stay calm."

"okay..."

i never drove so fast in my fucking life.

i picked you up, your energy off your lips really dry, something is off you asked if i gotta, i asked if you gotta we tripping on our words nobody is lying, hakuna matata we sat in the car and cried for an hour

as soon as i got to the starbucks azzi was at, i looked at her through the window and my heart broke for her. she was in pajamas and a bonnet. those beautiful brown eyes i'd grown so fond d were red and swollen, lashes wet with tears. her soft lips weren't soft anymore. they looked dehydrated, that's how much she'd cried. 

when she got in the car, she didn't say anything. just played with the sleeves of ethans hoodie. 

"do you-" "i'm so-"

we spoke at the same time, then waited for the other to say what they were gonna say. 

"i'm really sorry paige." she whimpered. "i never meant for any of this to happen. i never meant to hurt you or him. and i shouldn't have called you after what happened." she broke down again. "god i'm so fucking sorry." she cried with her head in her hands. 

"hey..." i rubbed her shoulder, "it's fine. you made a mistake and it's okay. "

"i'm so sorry." she just kept sobbing. she was too upset to hear anything i was saying. "i love you too much to have done that to you paige. im so sorry."

and time stopped. 

she WHAT?!

she said she loved me. she said-  no. she's hysterical right now she doesn't realize what she's saying.

ignoring the pit in my chest, i bring her closer to me, making us both lean over the center console. her head fell perfectly into my chest and she let everything she had out. 

as i held her, and felt her whole body shake as she cried, my heart shattered with hers and shed a few tears with her.

on god, i love that girl i'm a sh-, i'm a bad person like, i'm in the wrong, i'm a bad person i had no ill intentions, though shit, everybody got hurt i got hurt

i never meant for any of this to happen. i pride myself on being a good friend, and being loyal to those who are loyal to me. 

and the one time it really mattered, i had to fall for my friends girlfriend. and he really like her too. i think if i hadn't fucked it up, they could have been great. but i did. and it's ruined. 

and all this for what?

for ethan to be hurt? for me to lose a friend? for azzi to feel like shit? for me to have to act like i'm not hopelessly in love with azzi?

and i'm mad private with this side of my life cause people are weirdos, and i just try to keep anyone i care about in the shadows safe from the commentary and spotlight and thoughts cause it's just a story for the people outside of it but i guess you're just another chapter in a book

and here we are, at the 2024 wnba draft in support of my teammates. 3 days ago, i would have been here alone. 

but azzi needed a pick me up and i would rather her be her friend than nothing at all. 

so instead of breaking down about what could have been on a red carpet, i smile, lean into th mic and say, 

"azzi is one of my closes friends. she was supposed to be one of the greats and if she hadn't gotten hurt, she would have been drafted next year. so i just wanted her to see it in real life because she's so much more than a fan. she deserves to be here with us."

i looked at her and smiled, pulling her to the back rooms of the building where nika and aaliyah were getting ready. 

but between the two of us....

i would shoot someone in the face if it meant azzi would light up like that again.

♱ TAGLIST: @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @1onescu

@mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @authentic-girl03

[landossnorriss]

i see you - a series | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: a little post race comfort for our favourite papapya boy. lando norris we love you. part 2 here. Word Count: 1.1k A.N: just a little comfort fic, lando being lando

he'd had a bad race. there was no denying that. there were strategies that could have been cleaner and places that pace could have been picked up sure, but at the end of the day lando had had a bad race. everyone at the team knew that and there was going to be no one else that knew it more than lando. she was already waiting for the comments that came on social media and the flood of criticism for the man that she loved. it would be worth removing the apps from her phone for the next couple of weeks and she would encourage lando to do the same as soon as she got a hold of him too.

kicking about a bottle she had dropped she paced back and forth across the tiny space that lando called a driver room as she waited for him, her mind racing through each possibility over how his interviews would go and what state the press would send him back to her in. if he got through them fine he would have to get through debriefs where oscar was once again was celebrated more than he was and she could only pray that he didn't beat himself too much over the fact he was below oscar again.

hearing the door her head flew to the entrance way, her heart sinking as she caught sight of the sad smile that covered her loves face. this fucking sport, she knew that he loved it and he wouldn't give up racing till someone pried that car from his dead cold hands if he could help it but every day she was ready to whisk him away from it all and never let any of them near him again. grown man or not, she was sick of the toll each result took on him.

moving without saying anything lando didn't even have the energy to be pissed at himself as he wrapped his arms around her and tumbled them both onto the small excuse for a bed that they had shared on more than one occasion. right here, this was his happy place. this right here, made the rest of it seem like it was all nonsense.

"i drove like shit." he spoke into the quiet after a while, fingers tracing slowly up and down her spine as he finally looked down at her face, dreading seeing any signs of disappointment from her. he could take it from a lot of people, but not from her. she wasn't sure what he was looking for on her face, all she had to offer him was unfiltered adoration. "you didn't drive your best, that doesn't mean it was shit." she confirmed because she wouldn't lie to him. they both knew that he'd had a rough weekend and for all the smiles he had managed to muster this morning, he hadn't felt right since the hungary grand prix and she knew that he needed the summer break to shake it off. "it doesn't matter, i let him take another two points in the lead and i just....wins mean everything now and what if they're right, what if i'm a fraud and miami was nothing?"

"lan." she sighed into the room wondering if it was well poised questions or his own self deprecation habit that had gotten to him this time. "you've had a competitive car since miami, that's it, you're learning more and more each time you go out you know you are and you're human, shitty weekends happen they're going to happen again and you're going to deal with them. you're 24, you've got seasons ahead of you."

"oscar was ahead of me again. he's on his second season and he's already as good as me, what next year they're gunna make me driver two?"

"oscar was ahead for the last two races, he's a good driver but that doesn't take away from the fact you're an amazing driver, you're fighting with the greatest drivers. you can't control what's coming my love, all you can do is control how you react to what you have in the moment and make sure you're in the strongest position you can be in driving wise."

"i'm just...i'm tired of having to have excuses now, what if we come back and i'm still shit?"

"it's summer break now, let's worry about that when we're back, we will talk to zak and we'll no doubt have a million back and forths with jon." she hummed as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "the next two weeks though? we're going to be lounging on the beaches and eating all the good food...i might even try some sushi, a little salmon." she smirked as she looked up at him, her boyfriends face immediately pulling into a grimace that made her laugh. "baby, that's disgusting! if you don't want to spend summer break with me just say it." lando groaned as he buried his face in the crook of her next with a small groan as he rolled on top of her fully. she would have complained about the smell currently rolling from him and his suit if she didn't know how much he needed this.

"oh please, you know i can't wait to spend two weeks with you and your boyfriend." she was all too happy to continue to taunt him, earning a scoff from lando despite the fact they would be spending a great amount of time with martin but she didn't mind that either, he was another person in landos life that made him happy and she would follow them around and keep them out of whatever trouble they got into if it meant she'd have her love back to himself some what. that was life with lando, she wasn't just going to stick around and deal with the fun parts and the glamour, she was here for all the anxiety and the self doubt that crept in too.

with the silence around them again she looked down to find lando's eyes closed where he still rested on her and she let her fingers find their way into his curls that were far more unruly than when he'd put his helmet on today. typical lando, leave him in one spot for more than thirty seconds and he was going to fall asleep. her need to pee and regain feeling in her left leg would wait till he'd had a decent amount or rest or someone came to interrupt them, whichever came first. if someone dared to interrupt them she might not be so nice about it. with her own stiffed yawn she let her own eyes fall closed as lando nuzzled himself in even further and she could hear the deep breaths that meant he was out for the count. "i love you lando norris, so damn much."

[echantedtoon]

Turbo/King Candy x Jessica Rabbit Like S/o Headcannons

This was a request a friend really wanted from me so here it is for anyone else to enjoy.

TURBO:

-You're a flag girl for a racing game similar to Outrun or Pole Position (both 80s racing games) although the big difference was that your game wasn't as popular as Turbotime so there wasn't really any reason for the guy to be jealous of the competition. At least not until Road Blasters but that's jumping the gun a little bit.  

-You don't exactly meet each other until you finally decided to leave your game one day to go join others at Tapper's for the anniversary of Litwak's arcade opening or some similar celebration that many other games were celebrating. Of course your taller than the average video game women height and body type would turn some heads and the smaller racer was no exception. 

-Dude literally has to strain his neck for a double take just to be sure he was seeing things from the amount of surgery root beer he's consumed by now. But once he confirms that you actually exist- MAN. IS. SMITTEN. ON. SIGHT!! I'm talking about the guy chokes on his drink as you gorgeously smile his way even if you weren't smiling at him, just his general direction, but it gives him enough confidence to make his move. 

-He starts by buying you a drink, Tapper setting it right in front of you, before this tiny man gracefully struggled to climb onto the stool next to you slicking his helmet back like it was hair, and giving you a sly smile. "Hey, Baby.~ Are you a parking ticket?~ Cuz you got FINE written all over you?~"

-If it doesn't work out the first time be prepared for MANY 80s pick up lines including- "If I had to rate you from one to ten I'd give you a nine because I'm the one you need." "Hey. I'm writing a phone book. Can I have your number to put in it?" "Hey, Doll face. Wanna get physical?~" And other similar ones not considered cringey quite yet.

-He's pretty egotistical in personality so expect him to brag about everything involving him to you. His trophies, his winning streak, how his game's the most popular in the arcade, how he totally beats the Turbotime Twins in everything- Did he mention that he's also the greatest racer ever? He's trying to prove how much you should be smitten too often inviting you to come view him race.

-He secretly daydreams about you being the one that waves the checkered flag upon him crossing the finish line and plastering him in affection with him showing off to the world. Gold trophy in one hand while holding a beautiful woman in the other. Everyone knows his deep crush on you. 

-Remember when Felix and Calhoun kissed and little hearts appeared? Yeah. That happens every time he thinks about you or he happens to see you in Grand Central Station or Tapper's. Other's make fun of him for that a lot and he absolutely hates it and denied it every time but everyone and their programmers know about his crush. It's super obvious by this point.

-If by some reason you do happen to date him expect him to brag about having the most beautiful girlfriend in the entire arcade. "Hey, Pac-Man. How's Mrs. Pac-Man? Guess what?! My girlfriend's hotter than that yellow beachball reject!!" You're going to have to stop him from opening his mouth before Pac-Man tries to eat him again and he was very close to Mario just goomba stomping him after he insulted Princess Peach/Toadstool. Please stop this idiot from insulting everyone's wife before someone punts him back to Turbotime.

-He's not picky about personality and would genuinely love you but he'd be very happy if you were able to knock him down a peg(he thinks it's hot his girl can kick his behind-) or two. If you pick him up he'll also fight against it and complain the entire time you hold him, but ngl he's actually very into it. He has a thing for taller women after all...Even if he hates it when you tease him or hold things out of his reach.

-However one of the downsides of you deciding to pursue the relationship with him is his jealousy. Doesn't matter who's approaching you, if Turbo's around he always gives them a death glare that can put Bowser's fire breath to shame. So some game characters might avoid you because of that temper. And if someone were to flirt with you- Overprotective guard dog with rabies he is. Don't underestimate him because of his height. More than once he's started a bar fight at Tapper's over someone getting too close or attempting to make unwanted advances especially if you had already said no. 

-Don't underestimate him because of his height. More than one person has had a personal experience with Turbo turning into an angry honey badger infested with rabies as he was provoked.  People have learnt quickly to not make fun of his height, and to not try any funny business around you. More than once you'd have to pry him off someone and walk away with him tucked under your arm screaming profanities like a crazy Chihuahua.

KING CANDY:

-IK he's just Turbo in disguise but his personality shift in his KC disguise is notable enough to be different from how OG Turbo would go about it. However like OG Turbo once he sees you he's absolutely smitten by you. Unlike OG Turbo however his approach to you is much more normal if by normal having a guy with Tinkerbell shoes shuffle up to you and tell you how much your eyes remind him of sparkling rock candy.

-Honestly this pairing gives more of the Jessica and Rodger Rabbit vibes. Goofy little man with a gorgeous knockout GF. His goofball charms and shyer attempts at courting you are probably what got you falling for this man in the beginning.

-Instead of eyeing your form like many others, this man instead decides to court you in the most cheesy ways possible. Bringing you chocolates and other candy from his game(it's not like there's a limited amount of  it). Flowers (specifically either chocolate roses or edible flowers arrangements). Love notes, those really cheesy ones that don't even rhythm but they're so sweet you don't mind. 

-Mans loves you endlessly and will spend hours just gazing at you with literal heart eyes with hearts popping around his head. Very sweet alongside being goofy. Surprisingly a romantic too. Offers to drive you around on the back of his car. Plans at least one date that has you both sharing two straws in one milkshake. If he's feeling really romantic then he gets you those Valentine's hard candies shaped like hearts or those red lollipops also shaped like hearts. He even dedicates his wins to you in an attempt to impress you.

-Speaking of- He's very much the Rodger Rabbit of your relationship. Always gazing goofily at you with a love struck grin to the point Sour Bill has caught him daydreaming of you all lovestruck with a dopey grin. He's a king so anything you want in Sugar Rush is at your disposal. Want a glass of chocolate milk? How about a front row seat to watch the races? Would you like Sour Bill as a personal servant? Sour Bill completely disagrees with that last gesture.

-You once agreed to be a flag girl for one of the Random Roster Races, ironically one HE won, and when you gave him a winner's kiss he's been begging you to wave the checkered flag at other races too.

-Very sweet and energetic. If his goofy antics aren't making you giggle or smile, he's always flirting with you with cheesy puns since he's a guy who loves a play on words. "Are you a piece of cake? Custh you're the scheetest.~" "What's sweet and curvy? A candy cane of courseth but you're better.~" "Your voice is more beautiful than golden honey.~" "Did you sit in sugar? C-Cuzth that's -...Gumdrops! Forget what I said." He tried being more bold but ended up becoming too flustered and couldn't finish that last bit.

-You're going to get lots of cute candy nicknames. Honey. Sugar. Honeypie. Gumdrop. Angel cake. Cupcake. Sweetheart. Sweet cheeks. Tootsie pop. When he's feeling more romantic or sentimental he'll call you more special names like My Dear, Darling, My Queen, etc. 

-When you pick him up and kiss him he just melts in your arms. Giving a loud 'HOHO!' as you press kisses to his cheeks and forehead leaving him a bright cherry red and kiss marks all over his face. The first time that happened it left him just staring off into space blue screened but now he just blushes all over and this just might be his new favorite thing ever!

-If he ever proposes to you it's either going to be with one of those ring pops or with a gem made of the shiniest rock candy he can find.

[psychostxr]

𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐢 | emotions

PAIRING. jordan li x gn! reader

WORD COUNT. 0.7k

WARNINGS. cursing, mentions of death, marie bashing (i'm sorry)

NOTES. i have also hopped on the jordan li train, and my god, i've never had a character chokehold me so tightly

Since Marie Moreau joined Godolkin University, everything has gone downhill. After the death of your friend Luke and the murder of your favorite professor, your life has gone through a ball of shit. You didn't want to blame Marie. The poor girl got caught up in Luke's drama — drama you didn't even know existed — she's just as traumatized as you are.

That's what you would've said before news spread around school that Marie and Andre were the ones that stopped Luke, not Jordan. Your partner who actually fought Luke while Marie ran at the first sign of danger. The thought of Marie frustrates you to no end, but you have other things to worry about, such as Jordan locking themself in their room since classes ended.

For as long as you've known Jordan, they've always been competitive. They climbed up the school's student ranks at Godolkin, beating almost anyone and everyone who tried to get in their way. They were one stop away from being first-ranked. But because of Marie and Andre's 'courageous act' of stopping Luke, they've been pushed up the ladder, while Jordan has to settle for fifth. It hurts to see Jordan so angry at the world and themself.

You knock gently on Jordan's door, hearing the muffled sounds of what you presume to be Marie's interview with Hailey Miller. The room goes quiet, and you wait a few moments for Jordan to open the door. But they don't.

"I know you're in there, Jordan." You turn the doorknob, rattling the door in your unsuccessful attempt to get in. You sigh and lean your head against the door. "Please open up, baby. I'm worried about you."

There's a moment of silence until the door cracks open. You take a step back, seeing Jordan's somber expression.

"Hey," you say, smiling softly. "Can I come in?"

Jordan hesitantly returns your smile. "Sure."

They open the door wider, allowing you to enter their dimly lit room. Their room is nothing from the usual, with clothes strewn over their couch and textbooks scattered on their desk. You pull your bag off your back, setting it down on Jordan's bed to retrieve your laptop and the takeout you bought from Vought A Burger.

"I was thinking we could maybe watch Property Brothers and have dinner together?" you suggest. "Or any other show if you want?"

Jordan shakes their head, their lips quirking upwards. "That sounds really nice, actually."

You pass Jordan the takeout, unsure if they've eaten anything since having lunch with you earlier today. You quickly set up the laptop on the coffee table before sitting on Jordan's bed.

Leaning against the headboard, you open your arms wide. "Come here."

Jordan doesn't hesitate, settling themselves in your waiting embrace. Their arms wrap around your torso, pulling them closer until their head finds a comfortable spot nestled against your stomach.

Feeling the weight of Jordan's emotions, you hold your partner close, your arms enveloping Jordan's shoulders. You softly kiss the crown of Jordan's head, your lips brushing against their ink-black hair.

"I'm sorry you're having a shitty day," you whisper, threading your fingers through their silky strands. "It's not fair."

"It's not your fault," Jordan says, sighing. "Shit happens."

"This school is shit," you explain, your anger spiking. "You've worked your fucking ass off to become second-ranked at Godolkin, but because of Marie and our asshole of a principal, you've lost your spot."

Jordan lifts their head to look at you. "It sounds like you're more upset than me."

"I'm sorry, it's just..." You shake your head before staring lovingly at Jordan. "I love you so much, Jordan. So much that I feel everything you feel. When you feel angry, I feel angry. When you're sad, I'm sad. So when you go through these obstacles in life, you aren't alone. I will always be there for you, baby."

Jordan crumbles at your words, and a small smile plays on their lips. They lift themself and lean towards you. Their lips press against yours gently before pulling away, leaving you no time to savour the kiss.

"I'm lucky to have you," they admit.

As you grin, you pull Jordan closer into another kiss. But this time, you can feel the intense emotions radiating off them, and you soak in the passion and love from Jordan's kiss. The rest of the night is spent in each other's arms, binge-watching Property Brothers and devouring greasy takeout.

© psychostxr — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[ouiouibaguettt]

Hiya!! Can you write for dvd, maybe about the semi final and that she in the match she was in a bit of discomfort because of her ankle, and reader notice immediately?

Injury Time

YN YLN -> your name & your last name

2,4k of words!! Hope you will like it!!

masterlist (1) - (2) - (3) - (4)

The tension in the Groupama Stadium was electric. The semi-final of the UEFA Women's Champions League was in full swing, with Arsenal and Lyon battling it out for a spot in the final. It was the match everyone had been waiting for, a clash of two powerhouses, and the crowd was at the edge of their seats.

But there was one thing that caught your eye as soon as the game began.

Daphne van Domselaar.

You’d been on the sideline for the entire match, keeping an eye on your players, as any good physiotherapist would. You were there to ensure they were in peak condition, that their bodies were ready to go, and that no injuries would derail their dreams of Champions League glory.

But Daphne — your beautiful, strong, and usually unstoppable goalkeeper — was showing signs that something wasn’t quite right.

It wasn’t in the way she moved initially; it was more subtle than that. She was still putting on a solid performance, diving to make key saves and calling out instructions to her teammates. But there was something in the way her left foot planted on the ground that had you immediately on alert.

You were used to reading your players’ bodies, their movements. You knew Daphne too well. You saw the way she slightly favored her right side as she moved. A split second of hesitation after she landed from a save. The small, almost imperceptible limp when she jogged back into position.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, watching her closely. Your instinct was to run out onto the field, to stop the game and check on her, but you knew the stakes of the game. It was the Champions League. They couldn’t afford to stop for a break now.

But you were worried. More worried than you should have been, especially with everything on the line.

It was halfway through the first half when you couldn’t take it anymore. The game was tense, with Lyon relentlessly attacking, but Daphne was holding her ground — at least, you hoped she was. Every time she landed awkwardly after a jump, your heart skipped a beat.

Your pulse quickened as you caught her wincing after one of her signature saves. She had landed heavily on her left ankle, and you could see it right away — the way she shifted her weight, trying to mask the discomfort.

You didn’t need a second more. You immediately called over to Renee Slagers, the head coach, who nodded his approval for you to go out onto the field. He’d noticed it too.

The whistle blew, and the game momentarily halted as you jogged across the pitch toward her.

Daphne caught your eye as you approached. Her face was flushed from the intensity of the match, but there was an almost imperceptible shift in her expression. Concern. Worry. Something she didn’t want to show anyone, but that you knew all too well.

You stopped a few feet away, just out of her line of sight of the referee, and crouched slightly to meet her eye. “Daphne,” you said, your voice quiet but firm, “how’s your ankle?”

She hesitated, a flash of annoyance crossing her features, but she quickly masked it. “It’s fine,” she replied, her voice carrying the confidence of a seasoned pro.

But you knew better. You’d seen her struggle with injuries before, and this wasn’t the usual kind of pain she’d brush off.

“No, it’s not,” you said softly but urgently. “You’re limping. And I can see the way you’re favoring it when you land.” You paused for a moment, stepping closer, lowering your voice. “If you need to come off, tell me now. You’re more important than any game.”

Daphne’s jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you could see her wrestling with herself. The competitive fire in her burned so bright, it almost hurt to see. She wanted to keep going, to push through the pain.

But she didn’t answer right away. Instead, her eyes flickered to the goal, to the players waiting for the game to restart, and then back to you. You could tell she was weighing her options. She didn’t want to leave her teammates short, especially not in a game this important. But she trusted you.

“I’ll keep going,” she finally said, her voice low. “Just… keep an eye on it. I’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, but nodded. You had no choice. As much as you wanted to take her off the field and treat the injury immediately, you knew this was a decision only she could make.

“I’ll be right here,” you promised her. “But if it gets worse, don’t hesitate.”

You watched her for the rest of the half, heart in your throat with every dive she made. But as the final whistle blew and the teams jogged off for halftime, you were already on the field, making your way toward her.

Daphne was limping slightly now — more than before — but she was still trying to hide it, still trying to act as if everything was normal.

You met her just outside the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. Without a word, you reached for her ankle, your fingers gently tracing the side of it.

She winced, and you immediately saw the redness and swelling around her left foot. It wasn’t just a sprain anymore; it was something more serious.

"Daphne," you said gently, looking up at her, your fingers still pressing lightly against the injury. "We need to treat this. I can’t let you keep playing with this kind of pain."

She sighed, frustration lining her features. "I know you’re right, but—"

"You’re not risking this," you interrupted softly, your hands already wrapping her ankle in a compression bandage to prevent further injury.

Daphne stared at you for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But you better be there when we win," she said with a teasing smirk.

You chuckled softly, squeezing her shoulder. "You’ve got this. Just rest for now. We’ll get you back in top form after this."

As you helped her into the treatment room, you knew the battle wasn’t just about the game anymore. It was about getting her back to full health. Because you couldn’t afford to lose someone as incredible as Daphne. Not in a match this big.

And even if she was frustrated now, you knew she’d fight like hell to come back stronger.

You were in it together — all the way to the final whistle.

The treatment room was dimly lit, and the hustle and bustle of the match outside seemed distant as you guided Daphne van Domselaar inside. The adrenaline of the semi-final still buzzed in the air, but inside this quiet space, all that mattered was her well-being.

You closed the door softly behind you and motioned for her to sit on the bench. You noticed the way her movements were slower now, her face tinged with frustration. She was a fierce competitor, but the pain in her ankle was undeniable.

“Sit down. Let me take a look,” you said, keeping your voice calm and reassuring, the way you always did with her.

Daphne hesitated for a moment, still stubbornly trying to act like nothing was wrong. But when she finally eased onto the bench, she winced slightly as she shifted her weight off her injured foot.

You knelt down in front of her, taking her left ankle in your hands with the care you reserved only for the people who mattered most. “Let’s get this wrapped up properly,” you murmured.

Her eyes softened as she looked at you. For a moment, the competitive edge seemed to fade, and all that was left was vulnerability. She bit her lip, clearly frustrated at having to leave the game, but also grateful for the safety and comfort you provided.

“You’ve got a strong one, Daphne,” you teased softly, as you began gently examining her swollen ankle, your fingers tracing the tender spots where she’d taken a bad step.

“I know…” she sighed. “I just hate feeling like I let the team down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you said firmly, your eyes locking with hers. “You’ve been amazing out there. No one can play through pain like you. But you don’t need to be a hero right now. You need to heal, so you can get back out there for the final.”

Her lips curved slightly, a soft smile playing on her face as she looked down at you. The warmth in her eyes melted some of the tension between you, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you — the noise of the game outside, the high stakes of the tournament, all faded away.

As you wrapped her ankle with the compression bandage, you couldn’t help but let your fingers linger just a second longer than necessary, the softness of her skin beneath your touch making your heart flutter.

Daphne’s breath caught when you finished, and she didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she let out a long, steady exhale. “You know, you’re really good at this,” she said, her voice quieter now, the playful teasing from earlier replaced with something more genuine.

You smiled at her. “It’s my job to take care of you, isn’t it?”

She leaned back against the bench, her eyes watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “You’ve done more than just take care of me.”

There was something in her tone, something unspoken, but the connection was clear. You could feel it in the way she looked at you — like she wanted more, like she needed you close.

You slowly stood up and took a step back, giving her some space, but before you could say anything else, Daphne reached up and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward her.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you barely had time to react as she leaned up, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, unexpected kiss. It was tender at first, a simple connection, but it held so much meaning. It was an apology, a reassurance, a promise that everything would be okay.

For a moment, you forgot about the game. You forgot about the injured ankle, the players waiting outside, the clock ticking down to the final moments of the first leg of the semi-final. All that mattered was the way she kissed you, the way her hand gently cupped your cheek, the warmth of her touch as if she needed to hold on to you.

When the kiss ended, Daphne’s forehead rested against yours. Her breath was warm against your skin, and for a few seconds, neither of you moved. You could feel her heart beating just as fast as yours.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice low, almost vulnerable. “I needed that.”

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing across her cheek. “Anytime.”

Daphne pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something that made your heart race. “I’ll be okay. You’ve got me through this. Just don’t leave me hanging when we win this, alright?”

You laughed quietly, a small, affectionate sound. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

But you both knew what was unspoken: the way the final whistle was approaching. The goal of the tournament was still within reach, but more than anything, you needed to make sure Daphne was healed and ready for what would come next.

As you finished adjusting the bandages on her ankle, you placed one last, gentle kiss to her temple. “Rest up. You’ve got the final to focus on. And I’ll be right here.”

She smiled at you, the spark of determination still shining in her eyes, even as she sat there, nursing an injury. “And I’ll be ready. For you. For the team. We’re going to win this.”

You nodded, knowing she meant it. You didn’t doubt it for a second. As much as you were there to take care of her physically, you both knew you were in this together — body, heart, and soul.

The evening after the semi-final, the adrenaline had finally started to wear off. Arsenal had edged out Lyon and the team was celebrating cautiously, knowing the final in Lisbon was just around the corner.

You were sitting beside Daphne in the team hotel, her foot propped up on a pillow, freshly iced and bandaged. She had been stubborn about staying with the team instead of going straight for additional medical checks — and you, naturally, had stayed by her side.

You were scrolling through your phone absentmindedly when you felt Daphne shift closer. You turned your head just in time to see her, her phone raised, her expression playful.

"Smile," she said quietly.

You blinked, and before you could even react, she snapped a photo: you looking up at her with a small, soft smile, your hands carefully tending to her ankle, a mix of care and affection written all over your face.

Daphne chuckled at your startled expression and immediately started typing on her phone.

You tilted your head suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

She grinned mischievously. “Just posting something. You’ll see.”

Moments later, your phone buzzed. You opened Instagram and there it was — a story from @daphnevdomselaar.

The picture she had taken of you, the lighting warm and cozy, showing you concentrated on her, bandaging her ankle with so much care it almost looked romantic. Over it, she had written in simple white text:

"My favorite healer 🫶🏻 Couldn't do this without you. #finalbound"

You felt your cheeks flush immediately.

Before you could even think of teasing her back, Daphne set her phone down and leaned into you, resting her head lightly against your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” you asked softly, shifting to rest your cheek against the top of her head.

“For noticing. For taking care of me. For… always being here.” Her voice was muffled but full of quiet, earnest affection.

You smiled and reached down to intertwine your fingers with hers gently. "Always," you promised.

She squeezed your hand, a soft, slow squeeze that said more than words ever could.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the city lights of Lisbon in the distance already calling — but for now, it was just you and Daphne, safe, warm, and ready to take on the world together.

The final was waiting. And this time, it felt like you’d already won.

[taro-bae]

°☆| Blow Your Mind~○°☆

Summary: how they react to a dancer S/O

Characters: (TWST) Riddle, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Cater

Reader gender not specified, could be yuu

Some scenarios have specified dance styles (e.g contemporary for Vil), no warnings

|Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is sheltered, his mother definitely taught him that foolish hobbies are a waste of time. The only form of dance he knows about is ballet, a more elegant and traditional form of dance. So if he finds out you are a hip hop, jazz, contemporary or another style oriented dancer he will be suprised. He won't be able to take his eyes off you. However if you are a dancer in a more 'explicit' style, Riddle will be a flustered mess, blushing while trying to maintain a respectful composure but inside he is panicking.

Riddle enters the room wondering what the music is and decides to check so no students are breaking the rules. He stops in his tracks when he sees you moving to the music. He watches you silently, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. Once you finish the combo he speaks up-

"That's a rather...vulgar...song."

You are not suprised by his comment, he's always reserved, well-mannered and with a strict definition on what is classified as appropriate.

"But I have to admit, my dear, your dancing is quite...endearing."

He will be interested about your training and why you chose dance as a hobby. He wasn't allowed to have such hobbies so indulge him a bit.

|Kalim Al Asim

This angel of a boy is your number one supporter. Once he finds out you are a dancer he is going to be all over you, and he will ask you to dance with him at any party he hosts. Every single time. He will play music and expect you to join him in a dance, he loves it.

"Y/N! Baby, I did not know you could dance like that!" He exclaims with his signature grin his eyes wide taking in every move. He doesn't waste a second joining you. He doesn't care what music or style it is. He WILL join in. Get ready for a lot of questions. He wants to know how long you've been dancing for, what your favourite style is and so on so forth.

He can't keep his hands to himself. If he's dancing with you he will be all over you. No shame if you're in public, at a party or alone, his body will make contact with yours. How can he not, he loves you so much and he wants to share these moments with you. He has to show you off and tell everyone how good you are. The whole of NRC will know within a day.

At parties and events Kalim will hold onto your hand pulling you towards the dance floor with a excited "y/n, come dance with me! I want everyone to see how good you are!". He's so proud of you!

|Jamil Viper

He won't show it but you captivated his heart. Jamil has a passion for dance, he himself is a breakdance dancer mostly because Kalim would drag him into it. When he sees you dancing, weather it is at a party of Kalims or a dance room, he is analysing your technique, how your body moves, the articulation, the projection, everything to the smallest detail.

Jamil stands near the door frame arms crossed infront of his chest, remaining stoic as he watched. The more he watches you, a smirk grows on his lips. Once you finish or acknowledge his presense he approaches standing infront of you. He feels rather competitive and intrigued.

"Care to dance with me? Come on, show me what you've got." His intense gaze directed right at your eyes watching your every reaction, picking up how you're breathing and starting to blush. He snakes (no pun intended) his arm around your waist pulling closer to him.

"Indulge me a little". He breathes out his voice low and satisfied. He loves the fact that you are a dancer. He totally doesn't dream spending hours in a space, just you and him, coming up with choreographies together, your bodies pressed up against each other. Make his dream come true...

|Vil Schoenheit

Vil is an appreciator of the arts. Dance is a beautiful form of art and performance, not only with expressions but with the whole body in ways that are difficult and requires hours of work. So imagine if Vil comes across you doing a contemporary routine.

He walked into the Pomefiore dance studio seeing you performing your contemporary routine. He stands observing and judging, how you project through your body, your facial expressions, and flexibility when you execute a skill or floorwork sequence.

"Not bad. You move flawlessly, darling. You're full of suprises. We should have recruited you into the SDC group." He says impressed. He can't help himself but add some corrections or points that he noted on how you can improve your performance.

His heart is swelling with pride that his partner is a professional dancer, he is ready to support and promote you even if you say it's just a hobby. He won't let your abilities go to waste. He would occasionally ask you some questions on what you do for stretches or fitness activities to maintain your flexibility and strength. He will he be very invested in your hobbies helping you improve in any way he can.

|Cater Diamond

Oh, honey...get ready for a personal photo shoot. If cater catches you dancing he will whip out his phone faster than ever recording everything. He is not going to leave you alone after that, and yes he's posting it on Magicam with #mylittledancer in the caption. Now it is your responsibility to teach him how to do some popular dance trends , he'll be asking you to film some videos with him wanting to showcase your talent and skill to the entire wonderland!

So when he sees you dancing, especially if you were filming yourself for a post he will be ecstatic. He walks into your room seeing you practising a combo taking out his phone and cheering on you. Congratulations, you gained yourself a cheerleader!

"Oh my sevens! Get it, baby!" He cheers with an occasional 'woo'. "Can you show me another dance, honey? You looked totes adorable when you did that move~". If you offer to teach him a combo he will not say no.

"You're such a good dancer, baby. I'm so lucky to have snatched such a talented cutie for myself~♪"

He's posting photos and videos of you dancing or doing some cool skills the hashtags showing how much he's infatuated with you #mypartnerithebest #dancingqueen #mycutedancemachine

It's a little short but let me know if I should write anymore characters

xoxo ♡

[yuurei20]

Translation from Twisted Wonderland the 2nd novel: Overblot Aftermath (pt4)

“'Headmage, please allow the Savanaclaw team to participate.’

‘I wanna beat those guys senseless! There's no way we're letting them just bow out of the tournament like this!’

Faced with the victims of the various incidents requesting that Savanaclaw be allowed to play, the headmage seems uncertain.

‘I understand how you all feel, but I do not believe that Savanaclaw’s athletes will be capable of taking part. They were all just heavily battered.’

‘Quite, in the whirlwind incident. And that actually suits us just fine.’

In response to Jamil's assurance, Jack and Yuuya exchange a secret glance. The group that has just arrived is unaware that Leona overblotted. 

It appears that the opening march’s stampede has been explained away as a group panic caused by the sudden whirlwind, with the headmage—along with Lilia and Malleus Draconia—discussing the matter and announcing it to everyone in the coliseum. The teachers have been informed of the actual situation and, in favor of avoiding any further panic and confusion, had no objections.

While Trey has probably heard the truth from Cater, the rest of the group seem to believe that Savanaclaw was simply battered about in the same panic. It is true that the area has been ravaged by a sandstorm, and Yuuya and the others are covered in sand from head to toe. Looking at them, none would doubt the headmage’s explanation.

‘Housewarden Kingscholar-kun in particular can barely stand. Even if were I to grant permission, there is the question of whether he could even…’

Overblotting is taxing on the body, to the point that Riddle had had to take a leave of absence to recover. Just as the headmage says, Leona looks ill. The overwhelming presence he usually emanates simply by existing is gone.

Leona’s shoulders rise and fall with each of his heavy breaths, as though he is on the verge of collapsing to the ground. He is already beaten. His hair is disheveled, his clothes dirtied, and dry sand sticks to him all over. His dignity, his very aura seems to have been blown away in the sandstorm.

Ruggie—watching over Leona from where he stands—clenches his hands into tight fists.

He wants to play.

All the athletes who have been preparing for this day must feel the same. Everything is riding on Leona’s response. But will Leona, who saw no value in joining a competition they could not win, agree to such unfavorable terms?

No answer comes. Perhaps Leona senses Ruggie’s—and everyone’s—fear.

‘...Leona-senpai. What do you think?’”

[heartmix]

Everything Is A Competition - Matthew Tkachuk

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 600+

Warning: normal tkachuk family activities

Twelve Fic of Christmas - Gingerbread Houses

Masterlist \ Hockey Masterlist

Knowing how competitive the Tkachuk household was, you should have seen this coming. Every little thing they did they made it a competition. Of course, they would fight over who could build the better gingerbread house. How foolish of you to think they wouldn't. 

"Me and dad are totally going to win!" Taryn's voice outpowered her brother's bickering making the two roll their eyes. 

"Yeah. You two could not work together to save your life." Keith piped in wearing a proud smile at the thought of him and Taryn sweeping the boys. 

"Who said we're teaming up?" Brady smirked making the father-daughter duo frown. 

"It's Brady and Emma then me and my girl." Matthew wore the cockiest smile you've seen outside of hockey. One would mistake him for betting on a game. 

"We are?" You asked turning to Emma who wore the same confused look as you.

"Yes, you are," Matthew answered for you. 

That's how you found yourself sitting next to Matthew with pieces of gingerbread, candy, and icing all around you. The last time you tried to assemble a gingerbread house was in high school so there wasn't any hope. But one thing about being paired with a Tkachuk they are going to make you feel like the star player and everything was in your hands.

"We are so going to win this," Matthew mumbled mainly to himself concentrating on what pieces were the wall and what was the roof. 

"Just to let you know I haven't built one of these since high school so not sure how helpful I'll be." You confessed prepping the icing bag and waiting for whatever he told you to do. 

"Well lucky for the both of us, you're good at everything." He winked over as heat rushed to your cheeks. Of course, he would charm his way with this.

That's how you found yourself determined to make the gingerbread house look somewhat good. If anything you were a fabulous decorator and took the placement of every candy seriously. Matthew was quite good at making sure the structure held up. Sure there was some cursing and groaning the first few attempts at making sure it wouldn't fall, but after finding the trick with the frosting, he was unstoppable. 

It took the better half of half an hour for everyone to be done. Each Tkachuk smiled proudly at their creation while you and Emma were just happy it was over. Looking over each gingerbread house everyone did pretty well, but there were clear signs of what parts the females did compared to the men. 

"Okay now to decide who wins!" Taryn clapped her hands together excited to be taking home the win. 

"Well, mom?" Brady turned to his mother who chuckled at her family's antics. She was used to them doing so many competitions at this point she would just pick a random kid despite if they actually did good or not. 

"It's Christmas, all of you win." At that everyone let out a form of a groan or complaint. 

"C'mon, mom!" Matthew begged from beside you, clearly wanting a be crowned the winner. 

"Fine fine, the girls win."

"How?! There's a girl on every team!" Brady's voice boomed through the living room, clearly disappointed his mother was beating around the bush. 

 "Exactly. Now can we please go enjoy dinner."

"Of course, come on kids." Keith surrendered to the arguing, following his wife into the kitchen. 

"Well, that's fair, I win out of the both of you," Taryn said turning to her brothers and sticking out a teasing tongue before following her parents into the kitchen. 

"I don't care what anyone says we won, thanks to you." Matthew turned to you with a big smile, opposite to the frown he was wearing just a moment ago. 

"Doubt that, but it was fun."

"Anything with you is fun." He winked leaning in for a kiss.

"You guys are so disgusting," Brady said as he had an arm around Emma who was laughing at her husband's comment. 

"Says the married guy!"