#and now it feels silly to have two names on there that are identical

[unfinishedmural]

I usually say my favorite color is purple, but judging by my recent clothing and room decoration purchases, I think it's pink now (specifically the lighter shades you'd expect to see a coquette girl covered in).

I'm assuming this is about the Silly Robot Jesters? If so, I love their canon designs, but purely aesthetic-wise, I like whatever Love, Death, and Rollerskates has going on. I still haven't read it, so I don't know how good it is, but every time some fanart crosses my dash, Sun's neon jacket and Moon's galaxy carpet pants draw me in. I also really like your As long as we are loved boys (a fic I have read). I think you translated their designs in a way that feels like them, but also actual dolls you would see at a store. They just feel like characters from old children's books to me (visually at least). Moon's hair stars are my favorite detail.

There are. So many cool animal facts stored in my noggin, but I guess I'll stick to one. The immortal jellyfish (Turritopsis dohrnii) can revert to a polyp (former stage of development) when threatened, typically by injury or starvation. The polyp will eventually grow multiple medusae (adult jellyfish; singular "medusa") which are genetically identical to the previously injured jellyfish. Immortal jellyfish can still die from illness, being eaten, etc., but under the right circumstances, their genetic code can last much longer than the average jellyfish.

My favorite toy as a child was a pink Build-A-Bear named Strawbeary. She had magnets in her cheeks and hands, so she could put her hands together (useful for hugging your arm, or smaller toys) or put them on her face. She wasn't strawberry-themed in any way, so I'm not exactly sure where I got the name, but I loved her to bits.

Shenanigans.

It's not particularly profound, but I really like the phrase "geez and crackers" (from Chapter 9 of Celestial Shift) and I hope I get the chance to use it again.

Chao from Sonic the Hedgehog. They're just so cute! Plus, they have the ability to absorb the physical and emotional(?) characteristics of anything you give them. Holding a bird for two seconds is enough to make them mutate into a part-bird creature. Spending enough time around a certain caretaker will determine how likely they are to commit a crime. You buy them fruit from the Black Market so they do better in races. You can even give them little hats.

@animageofafunnyhorse (I half expected that to be a url for a gimmick blog whose only post is a single picture of a horse)

Making my own silly tag game

Normal tag games don't have the questions I think are really important, so here are exactly seven questions I actually care about.

What is your favorite color?

Describe the aesthetic of your favorite kind of jester. If you cannot vividly imagine a jester dancing in your head, describe any silly little guy that so strikes your interest.

Tell me an animal fun fact you think is particularly neat

What is/was your favorite toy, either from childhood or now?

What is your favorite word? You are entirely allowed to list multiple if too many are just so good, let's hear all your best words.

What is a line, section, or snippet you've written that you're particularly pleased with/proud of?

Favorite non-real creature? (Includes cryptids, fantasy creatures, mythical beasts, yokai, original species, monster, any creature that isn't real but still makes you go "Oh, this one is neat")

@ your pals to politely request they tell you these fun things about themselves via reblog. @ as many people as you want. @ no one. @ yourself. @ an image of a funny horse. There are no rules here.

I will tag some of my pals here :) @venomous-qwille @eyndr-stories @writing-forever @aviul @ohno-the-sun @pillowspace @kc-wilson-art

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (squint harder y'all), a lot of cussing (wouldn't be a bkg fic w/o 'em), reader has an ex-boyfriend, our boy kiri finally makes an appearance

words. 2.7k (i had to stop my head was aching)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

If you were to suddenly rise to fame overnight, for what reason would it be?

The answer you’ve always had for these silly icebreaker questions was simple. That one passion you’ve nurtured as a hobby, perhaps? Or the hidden talent—party trick, really—that your friends always goaded you into demonstrating during get-togethers? Or it could be getting recognized for the work that you do and how much of your soul you put into it.

Really, it could have easily been any of the three.

Which is why you couldn’t have seen this reality hurling straight at you even if it was waving a shining red flag at you from a safe distance.

You adjust the face mask that’s snug against your cheeks for the umpteenth time, vaguely aware of the child seated in front of you who’s also staring like he’s trying to make out who you’re supposed to be under the barrier.

Tamping down the annoyance springing in your gut over a kid occupying a precious chair in this crowded subway train during rush hour, you shift on your feet and tug down with your extra hand the hat that you quickly threw on on your way out this morning.

It was the least you could do after unceremoniously finding out through your best friend at 5:37 AM that you’ve become one of the Internet’s sensational hits overnight, now being dubbed as #2 Pro-hero Bakugou Katsuki’s heavy-handed girlfriend, emphasis on the heavy.

Needless to say, the news sent you into panic and you couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard you tried. Your emotions and thoughts went into overdrive, and you found yourself at the crack of dawn mulling over the options you had in front of you.

You knew you were grasping for straws when you started thinking about stealing someone else’s identity and moving far, far away from Japan where the concepts of pro-heroes and the World Wide Web were unbeknownst to the living population.

That pipeline got you nowhere.

Which leads you to the present: decked out in a flimsy disguise, horridly sleep-deprived, anxious as hell, squished between late salarymen and chatty high schoolers in a cramped train carriage, and subject to the increasingly scrutinizing stare of this kid in front of you.

To your relief, you arrive at your station before the child can put two and two together and expose you to the rest of the crowd. You quickly shuffle out and expertly weave yourself through the sea of people, desperate to get out of the public space and into the safety of Ground Riot agency.

Though your imagined bubble of safety is immediately popped the moment you enter the building and feel what has to be dozens of pairs of eyes on you.

You hurriedly scan your employee ID and head for the elevators, heaving a relieved sigh when no one follows you into the space.

It’s barely 8 AM, and you’re already drenched in sweat. You’re in the middle of wondering if you’re already sporting a fucking pit stain when your phone chimes its familiar tune, signifying a text message.

You peek at the notification banner to see Bakugou’s name, alongside a short directive.

(7:51 AM) Bakugou (Dynamight): Conference Room A—be there in 10. PR and the rest want to see both of us.

Fuck.

The room’s not empty by the time you stumble in seven minutes later. Hiramasa Hikari, your direct subordinate in charge of employee relations, is seated on one of the comfy office chairs circling the long, oval table, looking indubitably harrowed as she thumbs through an all-too-familiar booklet.

Wordlessly, you walk towards where she is and plop yourself down on the seat across from her, right on the side of the end-of-the-table throne where Bakugou usually plants his butt during meetings.

You might have moved a little too silently because she startles when she looks up and sees you looking at her like you don’t know what to say.

Because you don’t.

Instead, you flash her an uneasy smile, which she returns right back. Although it morphs into a frown, “I’m guessing we both recognize how comical the situation is right now?”

At that, both of your gazes drift to the said document, conveniently titled ‘Workplace Relationships: Policies and Protocols,’ with your name written underneath as one of the principal authors.

You purse your lips into a tight line, suddenly feeling the tiniest bit of shame spurring in your gut.

You wouldn’t call yourself militant when it comes to carrying out rules and regulations related to your job, but being on the receiving end of a lecture regarding workplace relationships is—for the lack of a better term—humbling.

Even if the whole thing that led you here is fake.

Before you can stutter out an appropriately vague enough response to your colleague, the glass doors open like flood gates and in comes Bakugou in his hero costume, followed by Mikuri (the PR head you’ve talked about during your meltdown), and a group of coworkers who you’ve identified as a portion of the agency’s legal team.

You and Hikari stand up at their arrival, and sure enough, Bakugou pulls out the seat to your right, barely sparing you a glance as he situates himself.

The rest quickly follow suit, the atmosphere so tense you could cut it with a meat cleaver.

Nobody says anything for a while before Hikari clears her throat awkwardly, evidently feeling self-conscious over speaking in front of her higher-ups. “I guess I can start, then?”

You give her an encouraging nod as if you’re not about to be roasted by the very same girl you’ve been training directly since she got recruited two years ago.

Hikari clears her throat again before fixing her firm gaze on you. “It has come to our attention that multiple news articles have been circulating since last night,” she pauses as her eyes dart between you and Bakugou, “about the two of you.”

A pregnant pause.

“…Care to explain?”

You can’t believe it. You’re about to expose yourself and this embarrassing stunt you pulled. And you can’t help the dread that courses through your system at the thought of admitting out loud how you roped in your boss, of all people, to pretend as your date so that you could hide from the ex who dumped you over the phone how much of a loser you are.

How much a loser you’ve become, the present moment in mind.

It couldn’t get any more pitiful than that.

But you have to face the truth, and you realize that time is running out fast as you survey the expectant looks directed at you one by one as if everything’s in slow motion.

Finally, you open your mouth to blurt it out and get it over with, but Bakugou beats you to it.

In fact, he doesn’t miss a beat.

Which is fucking astounding, because what he’s about to say next quite literally causes your jaw to drop.

“We’re dating,” he states, voice even. “There’s your explanation.”

The exact moment he says that outright, blatant lie, it’s like all the air in the conference room gets sucked into a vacuum. You find yourself feeling lightheaded and it takes everything in you not to collapse like a boneless heap on the lawyer beside you. You think Bakugou notices because his eyes shift to look at you, and his eyebrows furrow so minutely as if he’s telepathically saying ‘Get it together.’

And so you do.

You don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking, lying like this to the very people who need to know the truth to effectively clean up the mess you’ve inadvertently made in just one Sunday, but at this point, you know better than to contradict Bakugou’s words.

“We’re dating,” you parrot, voice wobbly, “…yes.”

You will yourself to look up from the clasped hands on your lap, only to immediately regret it. Some of the members of the legal team are staring at either Bakugou and you with straight-up disbelief, while the others toss you a playful wink. Hikari, Mikuri, and Sawamura, the lead lawyer, however, look unsettled at best.

“Since when,” Sawamura starts, although he sort of chokes on his spit. He clears his throat, “—since when has this been happening?”

The pro-hero’s reply is almost instantaneous. “Why the fuck would I tell you that?”

Ignoring Bakugou’s defensive retort, you instead jump in to respond as calmly as you can. “Around two months ago. When we worked late nights on that issue under Hikari’s unit. We, uh—” you chance a glance at Bakugou, who’s looking at you intently, “—we were actually planning to disclose it to HR today, if you can believe that.”

“And you punching the groom at the wedding you attended,” Mikuri suddenly adds, voice pointed. “Was that part of the plan, too?”

At the reminder of your act of sin, you visibly cringe in front of your colleagues. You hear Hikari hold back a snort, and you flush further in embarrassment.

To your surprise, Bakugou speaks up. “That was her dickhead of an ex, and he was being an asshole to her.” He grunts, “She was only defending her name.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but gawk at the man. The last thing you expected was for him to defend you. And so sincerely, at that. He could be a great actor.

“Well, regardless of the intentions, we have to deal with the act and its resulting consequences,” Sawamura sighs, before turning to face you. “We already briefed Bakugou on the way here but the guy and his family are threatening to sue for damages.”

“S-sue?” you choke out.

Mikuri nods solemnly in response. “I know Bakugou here wants to fight fire with fire by exposing the guy’s character but we believe it’s best to keep things as hush-hush as possible to prevent any more repercussions on his general popularity rating.” She gives you a once-over, “Would that be okay with you?”

You barely manage a nod, although she seemingly finds it more than enough.

“We’ve since been in contact with their lawyer and are on our way to a settlement,” the head lawyer packs on. “We’re scheduled to meet them in,” he checks his sports watch, “two hours.”

“In the meantime,” Mikuri interjects, “we might suggest you stay off your non-essential social media sites as we wait for the issue to die down.”

You nod again, failing to repress a weak laugh at the belated advice. “Don’t worry, I’m already on that.”

“In fact,” you quickly add before anyone else can interrupt you, “So much so that I don’t know what the hell is going on out there. How is Bakugou fairing in the ranks right now?”

Again, you feel the said man eyeing your side profile.

Mikuri cocks her head to the side in reflection, “Surprisingly, he’s holding up okay. We’ve had a marked increase in activity from the adolescent to young adult female demographic especially, but they’re all mixed reviews.”

At that, Bakugou sneers. “What am I, a fucking movie for these extras to rate?”

You snort, and now you see Bakugou side-eye you, although there’s no bite to it.

“Anyway,” Sawamura interjects, “That’s more or less it from us and PR as well, I believe. We’ll keep you both posted.” The man glances at Hikari, “Hiramasa-san, anything else from your department?”

“Oh, yes,” she quickly riffles through her documents before settling on the booklet from earlier and timidly handing it to Bakugou, who accepts it gingerly. “My supervisor here knows the guidebook by heart so you two should be good in keeping yourselves in check.”

Her eyes quickly dart to you as if to watch your reaction before they just as quickly dart back to Bakugou. “But just to reiterate, we strive to keep everything professional here at Ground Riot agency, so that means drawing a clear boundary between your work and personal lives. That also means no inappropriate PDA.”

“Tch.”

You gulp, feeling all sorts of weird all of a sudden. Accidentally demonstrating PDA with Bakugou should be the least of your worries but there’s no denying the pulse of anxiety that resonates at the mention of it.

After you and Bakugou begrudgingly agree to the terms and conditions, the meeting finally gets adjourned and your workmates pile out of the room one by one. You don’t realize how tense your shoulders are until you’re left alone with Bakugou, and you allow yourself one deep exhale.

Your boss, who’s still sporting a sour expression on his face, shifts his attention to you at the sound. You feel yourself shrink in a bit under his penetrating gaze, although you try to straighten your spine soon thereafter.

You take a few steps towards the doorway and peek through the hall for any bystanders. Once sure that you’re most definitely alone, you turn to Bakugou. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He’s not looking at you but his eyebrows furrow still, revealing his listening. He doesn’t say anything, though.

You continue. “It’s obviously bothering you that we’re keeping up this charade. Never mind your ranking potentially slipping, what about the stress of having to pretend and hearing people talk? You don’t need that on top of—”

“I don’t give a single fuck what people say about me.”

You knew that, yet you still frown at his tone. “But you give a fuck about being number one.”

At that, Bakugou finally moves to face you. “Look, I hate that I have to say this, but even if I had no dating scandal affecting my popularity rating, good or bad, all this doesn’t make a difference in helping me get past shitty De– Izuku, at least in a way that matters.”

He huffs before looking away to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “That popularity shit’s out of my control and has nothing to do with my abilities. The other metrics are.”

As you gaze at his back, you think about how image is in fact important when it comes to being the ultimate hero—mind drifting back to All Might and how he served as the pinnacle of safety with his powers and impactful symbolism. But then it gravitates to Endeavor and how, despite his far from amiable personality akin to that of Bakugou’s, he earned the people’s trust in his own way as the new #1 upon All Might’s retirement.

“Okay,” you exhale again, “I believe you. Still doesn’t explain why you seem so bothered, though.”

Bakugou immediately whips around to look at you, frustration etched on his pretty features. “Why did that jackass even invite you in the first place?”

That’s what’s bothering him?

You chuckle, although what you’re about to say probably isn’t a laughing matter. “I think it’s because he saw me as a charity case,” you pause, debating whether or not to tell him the embarrassing truth, eventually opting to do so. “He always made me feel like I should thank my lucky stars I scored him, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was doing me a favor by inviting me to his wedding.”

“…You know you can do better than that dipshit, right?”

You smile despite yourself, “I know… That’s why I’m dating you, right?”

You only meant to lighten the mood after what has been a grueling, impromptu meeting, but you didn’t expect Bakugou to redden in what you think is annoyance at the innocent quip.

You immediately backtrack. “I was just—trying to, uh—’m just joking around…”

Bakugou doesn’t get the chance to potentially snap at you in irritation because Kirishima, Red Riot, waltzes in with a big, toothy grin on his face.

He beams at you then turns to regard his best friend, grin growing even more in size as if that was still possible.

And what he says next confuses the shit out of you and grants him a hard shove from your now fake boyfriend.

“Congrats, Bakubro! Freaking finally!”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are much appreciated <3 they really do make a difference! have a lovely day~

[machveil]

Neighbor!König pt 2

Neighbor!König pt 1

König was a nervous mess the first few days of passing sticky notes back and forth. He didn’t understand why you were answering his little messages - leaving your own messages in turn. Although, it eased his mind knowing that you weren’t spooked by this little game that developed. He was careful, unintentionally memorizing when you came and went from your apartment so he could leave you a note or two.

He was sure the other neighbors noticed - oh, he was positive. It’s hard to ignore bright, little yellow pieces of paper stuck to a door when the hallway is drab. ‘Don’t forget your umbrella, it’s going to rain today.’, ‘There’s a sale at the coffee shop around the corner.’, or, ‘I read that book you recommended. It was good.’, cute little sentences shared between two neighbors, an unintentional show for the others on their floor. König would be embarrassed, but leaving his notes anonymously made him feel better. While the notes were very public, he had managed to keep his identity hidden - a masked man, hidden behind sticky notes and sweet words.

Maybe that’s why he got a little cocky, a little more confident - a confidence reminiscent of how he felt on the battlefield. He had managed to keep this little exchange going for a month now, well, ignoring when he was deployed - he’d always leave a note excusing his sudden departures. A few words vaguely saying he’d be back; a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest, he had something to look forward to when he came back. And, just maybe, that’s why he found himself leaving a note while you were still home. Footsteps quiet as he made the small walk to your door, just as he was about to stick the piece of paper to your door, he startled when the handle turned.

When you first saw the little pieces of paper on your front door you were amused. Attention caught with that first little note, ‘Hallo.’. Whoever had written it wrote it so small, the note underneath written a little larger. Glancing around the hall, maybe hoping someone would step out and claim “I left those”, a smile graced your lips. Taking the sticky notes off your door, you quickly made your way to a little stationary pile - you’d leave a message of your own, ‘I’m good! hope you’re doing well :)’.

And just like, after putting it on your door, you had started a routine with this mysterious messenger. You’d started to collect the little notes your pen pal left, tucked away in a drawer. Whoever left the notes got more comfortable writing them, at least, you think so. Their short, concise notes became a little longer. It went from short ‘good morning’s to sentences about the latest book they had read. It was silly, but their messages always left your heart fluttering. All things considered, whoever this was had a charm to them. You were sure it was a neighbor, the only problem was you had quite a few. There wasn’t a smooth way to bring it up in conversation either, “Hey, have we been talking to each other? I mean– you know, through sticky notes?”. So, instead, you settled for waiting. Waiting for a day when you could catch whoever this was.

It was comforting to know you had at least met all your neighbors, interacting with some more than others. Maybe it was the guy down the hall? No, he didn’t seem like the type to leave sticky notes, he’d probably just knock on your door and talk to you. It could have been the neighbor across the hall, but they weren’t home often enough to do this. Either way, you figured you’d meet them eventually. Roughly a month into this little exchange that day came. A day off of work, the sun beaming outside, it was the perfect time to treat yourself to a treat. Wallet in your back pocket, when you opened the front door you didn’t expect to be faced with a chest. Looking up with wide eyes, your shoulders relax, a soft smile tugging at your lips. König. You’d only talked to him a few times, he only gave you his name because he was stuck in an elevator with you one time - darting off to his apartment quickly when the doors opened. He didn’t talk much, could hardly maintain eye contact with you, but he was so nice. He helped you carry your groceries up to your apartment  one time, of course, he fled when you turned your back to him, but it was the thought that counted.

So when you look up at him, a greeting on the tip of your tongue, the yellow sticky note in his hand makes you pause. Lips parting, words caught in your throat, a dopey little grin settles on your lips, “König? You’re–”, but before you can speak further, he cuts you off. Hands shaky, he looks away, “Ah– nein– no, I’m–”, accent thick with stress, he takes a step back, “Scheiße– I’m sorry.”. Before you can get another word out, König turns on his heel, sticky note fluttering to the floor as he makes a break for his door. “Wait– König, come back!”, calling out, you’re met with the sound of his door slamming shut.

Brain still playing catch, your eyes dart from his door to the fallen sticky note. Heart twisting a little, you bend down to pick up the note - a little crinkled from König unknowingly clenching his hand. Sighing, you glance back at his door, lips quirked up.

‘I really like you.’ - König

[ellecdc]

Hey gorg!!!

I saw the post about wanting pregnant reader/ dad marauders prompts and I literally ran here.

I’ve got two ideas, so whichever gives you the most inspiration/ whatever you like best 😂

1- pregnant!reader who just hits her limit for the day- overwhelmed and overstimulated with everything to the point she jsut wants to sit and cry- all because of something silly

Or!!

2- reader on their first day away from baby with the girls- leaving dad!marauders to it, coming back to a baby who’s very excited to be free from the chaos of the boys.

Lots of love!!

-🥟

eeeeeeeek I went with #2!!! thank you my love <3

dad!marauders x mum!reader who saves their daughter from the boys' tyranny [522 words]

CW: kid fic, fem!reader, you have a daughter but I avoided assigning her a name (let me know how ya'll prefer that: do you want me to name the kid? or do you want me to leave it ambiguous? I feel like it would probably read easier/more naturally with an assigned name, but I understand if you like making that up yourself)

“Oh thank gods you’re home.” Sirius pushed out all in one breath as he hastily stood from the couch with your daughter in hand. 

You clicked the door shut behind you as you took your shoes off, furrowing your brows at a frazzled looking Sirius and an equally frazzled looking baby in his arms. 

“You have to help us.” He begged quickly. “They’re driving us mad.”

“What?” You laughed carefully, though you had to admit that your child had a nearly identical pout on her lips as her papa, and you were quite sure babies her age didn’t have the ability to conspire. 

Though, you were sure if any baby could conspire, it would be a baby Marauder. 

“They haven’t stopped all day.” Sirius enunciated, whispering at you and looking over his shoulder as if some invisible threat was going to attack at any given moment. “Jamie got up this morning on a warpath; first we went on a family walk to feed the ducks some corn. Fine, I’ll let it slide. We no sooner got home, and Moony set up the sandbox in the yard. Great. But then, James insisted we go to the park! Which - okay, that was fun, because I got to run around as Padfoot. But then after a mere 20 minute nap, Remus had us out at the stream catching and releasing frogs!”

You awed in sympathy as you brushed some fine hair away from your baby girl’s forehead who was using her two pudgy hands to rub at her eyes.

“You tired, lovie?” You asked the child, but they both whined a yes in response. 

“Okay.” You murmured as you accepted the sleepy child’s grabby hands, only for her to immediately rest her head on your shoulder and melt into your embrace.

“Pads? Where’d you guys run off to?” James called from the other room, and Sirius’ paled. “We’ve got the water table set up.”

“Oh gods,” Sirius whimpered, “they’re coming.”

“Sirius,” you started to chide, but he simply turned and started pushing you towards the hall that led to the bedrooms.

“Go, save yourselves. I’ll hold them off.” He whispered theatrically.

“Sirius!” You squealed, laughing as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head - taking a deep breath as if he was trying to memorise your scent like he may never get the chance to do it again - and pat at your hip. 

“Make sure our baby girl grows up knowing the sacrifices her brave, brave papa made for her.” He offered solemnly, walking backwards as he held your gaze. “Go! Nap! Rest! Waste the day away in ways many of us only dream!” 

You giggled at him as he disappeared around the corner, hearing Remus murmur “what the hell was all that about?” only to hear a grunt, a chuckle, and a theatric “I won’t let you tyrannise our sweet girls any longer!”

“What do you say, sweetheart? Time for a nap?” You murmured as you made your way towards your bedroom; a nap did sound appealing, now that you thought about it. 

An answer never came, however; she was already fast asleep.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 "𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲". ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ cw: fluff. that's just about it

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

“Love, where are you?”

XIAO appears almost instantly by your side, albeit looking the slightest confused - his puzzlement written all over his face as he glances at you with his gilded gaze. “I told you to call my name if you needed me, so why are you…”

You beam at his response, suddenly throwing your arms around him, to which he hesitates, then returns your embrace. “Because you’re the one I love, silly!” Leaning forward, you give the adeptus a light peck on the cheek, withdrawing as fast as you advanced.

Touching a gloved hand to his flushed face, the male stays silent for the count of three before speaking once more, “...You’re really so embarrassing at times…”

“Aw, you didn’t want me to call you that…?” Figure slumping, you pout, giving him sad eyes.

“...N-No, that’s… not what I meant.” Of course he can’t refuse you when you’re looking at him with such a sparkling, innocent adoration glowing in your eyes.

“So I can call you that, then?”

This earns you a long sigh from the stoic man, but his expression shows no exasperation. “Must all you mortals be so trivial?”

“Ah, just give me an answer…”

Has he been waiting for this moment? Perhaps he has, for now Xiao leans forward and returns your kiss from before with one of his own, the lightest smile gracing his lips.

“...Do whatever you’d like, love.” ♥

“Love, what are you up to?”

It takes KAZUHA a ten second pause to respond, glancing up from the book he’s reading in the dim lamplight of the Crux residencies. “...Me?” The way he’s blinking so rapidly is almost humorous.

“Who else?” You smile playfully at him, shifting closer to his tensed figure to get a peek over his shoulder, trying to glance at what he’s reading so diligently. “Of course I mean you, love.”

It’s hard not to tease him when his expression is so flustered. He’s quite the calm man, but this once, your antics have managed to catch him off guard.

It takes another moment for the male to meet your gaze, but when he does, his crimson eyes sparkle as red dusts his cheeks. “Haha, you really do always catch me by surprise, don’t you? It’d do me well to fetch myself a piece of paper and a pen now… I’m sure I wouldn’t want to forget this moment.” 

Setting down his book next to him, he leans into your body, smiling at your warmth. Moments like these are bliss, where no words are shared, yet the two of you reside comfortably in each other’s presence.

When he quietly glances up at you, the shimmering affection in his eyes is startlingly apparent. 

“That’s what I love about you, dove.”  ♥

“Love, c’mon, look at me…”

And just like that, your words have drawn WANDERER in once more. His expression is enraged, that’s for sure, but the slight flush on his cheeks, almost hidden by his hair, is undeniable.

“Wh-” He pauses, whipping around, eyes wide. “What do you think you’re doing, calling me by such… frivolous titles…!” Strange, why is he acting like you’ve committed some sort of grave offense?

“Hm? But love, what’s wrong?” You smile, practically beaming as the anger on his face only grows more apparent.

“Oh- You- You know exactly what you’re doing, aren’t you? Listen here…” And just like that, his stuttering tone shifts. Suddenly his gaze is cold as it's now trained on you. “Who do you think you are, to assume that you are to call me such names?”

Perhaps you know, or perhaps you don’t. Names carry an obscure value to the male, one that he can’t even begin to unravel. After all, he is one of many names as well… Kunizukushi, Scaramouche… and now, Wanderer. Each of those titles that seem to shape just who he is, molding his identity with each letter.

So for you to call him that word so carefreely…

He’s not exactly sure how it feels, but there’s a knot in his chest, right where his heart would be.

“…Sorry.” You sheepishly sigh. “That was unbecoming. I didn’t realize you’d be so… sorry.”

Ah, look what he’s done. Now you’re apologizing for his problem. And before he knows it, the words slip through his mouth, true to the feeling that’s beginning to overwhelm him.

“No, don’t apologize.”

“Just… tell me, how should I be feeling right now?”

“It’s hard to think, and for some reason, my face is all red…” ♥

(a/n) not scara being the only one who doesn't call you a name back 💀

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

30th - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3298>

Carlos woke up, slightly groggy with his body still feeling heavy with sleep. As he usually did, his arms instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed, his hands feeling around for you. But, he was met with an empty space and cold sheets.

"Darling?" he softly said, hoping you had just disappeared into the bathroom. However the cold sheets said otherwise. You hadn't been there for a while, and you normally always told him when you were leaving or if he should be expecting your absence.

He slung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up a bit. His now open eyes landed on your vanity table, a brown box now sat in the place of your makeup bag. His curiosity was piqued, so he walked up and looked at the box.

Lo and behold, his name was perfectly scrawled on the lid. He looked around the room, trying to see if you were hidden anywhere. Sighing and opening the box, he spotted a printed photo. It was an old one from his 17th birthday, coincidentally the first one you had spent together.

He had been at a race, and you had gone to the track to surprise your first ever boyfriend. Carlos had been surprised to see you there, since he didn't think you'd be interested in going to his races - especially back then.

Yet your interest made his silly high school crush turn into something a lot more, something that he didn't quite know what it was back when he was young. He was an emotionally confused, hormonal teenage boy who had the girl he had only seen in his dreams right in front of him.

Picking up the photo, he remembered the exact moment it was taken. He had brought his trophy to you, to show you an accolade of his success. His mum was watching on, smiling at the happiness on her son's face. You had your arm around his shoulder, he had his arm around your waist as you both flashed a big cheesy grin at the camera.

There was another photo underneath, and this one caused a light flush to coat his cheeks. His mum nearly missed it, and that made it even better. As she was walking away, Carlos remembered how he couldn't resist and had tugged you in for a short but sweet kiss.

It was your first kiss, his first kiss, and your first of many together. There was a small label over the top of the trophy, which was still clutched in his hand. 'Find me', it said. Now he saw where this was going.

A little birthday scavenger hunt that was combined with a walk down memory lane. He took himself through the house and all the way to the living room, where his trophy was proudly sitting on the mantelpiece.

Yes, he had won many more since that one, but that one had special significance to him and it always would. Just as expected, there was another brown box that was identical to the last one. He lifted the cardboard lid, another photo waiting for him inside.

This was from two years later, a year before he had joined F1. He was a superstar as ever, and it was dawning on him that he would have to be away from you a lot more. You'd be going to university, and he'd be travelling the globe.

Both you and Carlos knew that this was what he had to do, but it didn't make it any easier. The photo in question was from his last race in the junior formulas. Another win for Carlos Sainz, and one of the last he'd celebrate with you for the time being.

You were holding his trophy, the same dazzling smile on your face as he kissed you on the cheek with people celebrating around you. He ran his fingers over the small version of your face.

To him, you hadn't aged a day. You were still as stunning now as you were back then, which was nearing on 15 years ago at this point. The pair of you were young, slightly dumb, and very much in love. The delusion, which was brought down to innocent naivety, that you'd be able to do such long distance was conceived as something easy by the both of you.

You'd soon find out that that wasn't the case, but it wasn't something he was wanting to dwell on too much. This time, on the base of the box, there was another short note written on it. '15.3.15' was the message.

That was the date of his first ever F1 race, but he couldn't think of anything associated with it. All he really cared about was that he got his first ever points, but you couldn't be there to see it. You were at university, and he remembered your relentless effort to make your schedule align for the first race.

Alas, you couldn't make your way to Australia, and he had to settle for a very happy phone call that you had gotten up extra early to make. You had watched the race, and he knew how excited you were for him to get those 2 points.

Yes, 4 people had DNFed and 2 people had DNSed, meaning he finished three places from the back of the pack, but it didn't matter. Carlos had gotten his first ever F1 points, and you couldn't have been prouder of him.

Little did the both of you know, that was the last time of pure happiness that he had seen before he had ruined it all, but he hoped you had glossed over that and moved straight onto the next part of the joyful times with your scavenger hunt.

He was wracking his brains for anything that he could find associated with the date in the house, but he was drawing blanks. He didn't have any physical momentos of the day, well none that came to mind.

There weren't any pictures in the house of him on that day either. While he was still thinking, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Carlos smirked to himself as he saw your name pop up on his screen, and he opened the text from you. 'Stumped already?'

He chuckled, wondering how you had figured out that he was already stuck on your little treasure hunt. 'Maybe just a little' he replied, watching as you began to type back to him. The three dots bobbled up and down on his screen, before a message appeared on the screen.

'What was in the news that day?' and that was when it hit him. In Madrid, the local news was all about their hometown hero, Carlos Sainz, getting his first points in Formula 1. He remembered you sending him a picture of the paper you had picked up, and you had kept it over all of those years.

He knew it was in a drawer somewhere, he just needed to figure out where. Walking to the office, he rummaged through your desk drawers, hoping he wouldn't stumble upon another clue. Then, he felt another buzz. 'Carlos you are ruining my treasure trail, get out of my desk.'

There was his confirmation. Again, he was wondering how you were omniscient and how you had known where he was in the house. But, he closed the desk drawers as instructed and he internally thanked whoever was out there that he hadn't found whatever was in there. It was simply a little help for later.

'Check the cabinet in the living room,' another text buzzed through. If he kept on acting clueless, then you would do all the work for him at this rate. But, he persevered and headed to the living room cabinet. Just as expected, it was at the top of one of the drawers.

Carefully pulling the thin piece of newspaper out of the drawer, his eyes were drawn to the next note of his trail. 'I was going to do 55 clues, but I thought that would be such an awful idea and would take way too long, so you get 5 instead. For clue number three, I want you to remember the first time we saw each other after our little... sabbatical'.

As he figured, you had glossed over your little 2 year break that had been the loneliest 2 years of his life. He knew exactly what you were referring to this time, and he took himself upstairs to the prized framed photo of the two of you that sat proudly on his bedside table.

He didn't see the note on the offset, but he found it taped to the back of the frame. You probably realised that he would spot it if you put it on the front, so you had to be a little sneaky. He allowed himself some time to look at the photo, even though he saw it multiple times a day.

Carlos could practically feel the humid Singapore air clinging to his skin as he looked at the photo, yet another that his mum had taken. He had gotten his best ever result in F1, a 4th place. Yet, he didn't know you were there. His parents had brought you along, since you had some time off.

He was overjoyed, and he could've sworn his heart had stopped when he got back to the garage after interviews and saw you there, with his family. He stopped in his tracks, before his dad saw him and so did you.

At that point, Carlos' instincts took over, and you both knew what was going on. He started taking steps towards you, and you did the same. There was no hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you with every ounce of love he had in his body.

It didn't matter that you'd had practically zero contact over the past 2 years, you still knew each other like the back of your hand. You were still the girl who teenage him had fallen madly in love with, and he was still the charming racer that you had become so enamoured with. After that day, you knew you were together for the long haul, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

As they had preempted the moment, another picture was taken of the perfect sight of the two of you reuniting. When his mum had sent it to him, he had instantly gotten it printed and framed. He took it wherever he went without you, and he always would.

The note taped to the back said 'Grease is the word'. Now, he knew what you were talking about, but he didn't know if the tickets to said show were in your desk drawer or not. 'Is this the desk drawer?' he texted you.

'Sure is,' you replied, and he went back to the office and back to your desk. He looked in the drawer that he hadn't checked in earlier, and there they were. The Grease Tickets He remembered the day you had said you had a 'surprise' for him, only to take him to a theatre to see Grease live on stage.

If it wasn't for the puppy eyes you had given him, then he would've walked straight out of the theatre without a second glance. He had gone in just because you asked, and he unfortunately couldn't say he had hated it. Well, he had pretty much been watching you the whole time as you mouthed the lyrics and smiled at your favourite scenes. He couldn't help but find it utterly adorable.

He could see you in the poofy dresses, the sun shining on you as you sang to your heart's desire. He definitely wouldn't want to be one of the T-Birds, but he would be if you really wanted him to. Plus, he definitely wouldn't be opposed to seeing you in those tight leather pants.

When you asked what he had thought, he just said he had enjoyed it. Oh, what a mistake he had just made. Then you made him watch the movie version at home, and he got to see you mouth the lyrics and smile along again. He enjoyed the movie version more.

One thing he loved about you was how you kept little mementos like these tickets. You liked to preserve memories in the form of little tokens and trinkets. Whether it be tickets from a movie, a pebble from the beach or a receipt from a restaurant, you always kept the little things from special outings and events.

On the back of the tickets, the final note was written on a sticky note. 'You've made it! I'm surprised you haven't gotten bored and nagged me to just tell you where I am, or you have, I'm not sure. Anyway, for your final clue, I am going to send you out to a place that you have at home, and on track.'

Well that was too easy. Carlos closed the drawer and walked out to the garage, but he saw nothing. He felt confused, unsure of if his confidence in his clue-guessing skills was warranted in this situation. 

He stood there for a few more seconds, until he heard the door to the garage close behind him. Turning around, he was greeted with nothing. Just the closed door. However, it wasn't just the door. On the door, there was another note taped to it. 

"Where have you always wanted to go?' and he instantly knew what you were talking about. But, surely you hadn't, right? At the bottom of the piece of paper, he saw a small 'P.S' scribbled on. 'I need you to say it out loud so I can hear it'.

"Hawaii," he said, pretty loud. He also hoped that he had gotten it right, since there were many places he wanted to go that his racing schedule hadn't taken him to. Besides, he couldn't do many tourist-y things when he was traveling most of the time. 

"Ding ding ding!" you laughed, jumping out from behind one of the cars in the garage. Carlos just stood there in complete shock, unsure of what to do with himself. You had a Hawaiian shirt on, complete with a hula skirt and flower garlands around your wrists and neck.

All he could do was laugh, "What the hell are you wearing?" he managed to choke out between the fits of laughter he was letting out. He felt bad, since the look on your face told him that you thought he should've been taking this a little more seriously. "Hey, darling, I'm sorry, you look adorable," he doubled back, closing the gap between you and putting his hands on your waist. 

"But I do want to know what this is all about," he pressed.

"Well, the treasure hunt was just a little bit of fun that I wanted to do for some good memories on a special day. This stunning outfit it for... something else." you smiled, moving away from him and back to the spot you were hiding behind the car.

You reemerged with a white envelope in your hand, holding it out to him. "Happy birthday, Carlos." you softly said, and he took the envelope out of your hands. He eyed you sceptically, before ripping the top of the envelope open. 

Carlos took the papers out of the envelope, his eyes scanning the words on the page. "Wait, really?" he asked, looking over it again and again. But low and behold, there were the plane tickets all the way to Ellison Onizuka Kona International Airport.

"It's kind of hard to get you gifts, so I thought this might be worth a little more, you know?" you said, really hoping he'd like it. Thankfully, you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he really did like it. 

"Oh baby thank you, seriously," he smiled, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. "You know you really didn't have to go through all this effort, right?" he told you. 

"Carlos, you're 30 now. You've not got long before you're in a nursing home and can't even wipe your own ass without help," you quipped, and his eyes widened in mock outrage. 

"I will have you know that I am nowhere near being sent to a nursing home! You're stuck with me, and now I think you've designated yourself to wipe my ass when I'm old and frail," he retorted with a feigned tone of hurt. 

"Oh shush. Anyway, go sit in the living room, there's a little more to do," you told him, pushing him in the direction of the door. Carlos just shook his head and laughed, walking out of the garage. 

"Getting bossed around on my own birthday, you sure are cruel to me," he tutted, going to sit on the couch as instructed. He watches as you disappeared into the kitchen, still finding the Hawaii outfit funny as ever. 

"Happy birthday to you," you started to sing, walking into the room with a cake covered in candles balanced in your hands. "I have just realised how awkward it is when I am the only one singing, but anyway," you laughed, and Carlos could only giggle at your awkwardness. 

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Carlos, happy birthday to you," you quickly finished the song, just to get it over with. "Blow out the candles," you told him, and he did exactly that. 

"Thank you, darling." he smiled, leaning over the cake to give you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips. Looking at the cake, he saw that it was absolutely plastered with various memes that had been made of him over the years of racing. 

"I would have done the chili pepper, but Ferrari beat me to it last year. So, I had to get creative," you explained.

"You know, a normal cake would have been perfectly fine, you didn't have to go through so much effort," he sighed. He had told you this every year for the total 11 birthdays that you had spent together, yet he knew you would never listen to him. 

And he never wanted you to listen, not deep down. He loved the effort you went through to try and think of fun things to do for special events like birthdays, and he had enjoyed his trip down memory lane. Plus, he was getting a lovely trip to Hawaii with the love of his life and a cake that was funny as ever. 

"But thank you, really. I have had a wonderful day so far, and I'm barely an hour in, so I am doing pretty well for myself," Carlos said. 

"Don't expect this next year, I have officially exhausted my bank of idea for dumb things to force you through on your birthday,"

"Hey, it's not dumb. I loved every second of it," he reassured, you, putting the cake on the coffee table and leading you over to sit next to him on the couch. "Thank you, genuinely. I would've been happy with just having you here, so this is beyond anything I can ask of you."

"You deserve it," you smiled, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You could smell the faint scent of burnt candles in the air and you sat in peace. "Feliz cumpleaños, Carlos." 

God how he loved it when you tried to speak Spanish. Was the accent off? Yes. But, was it one of the cutest things ever, in his mind. "Gracias, mi amor," he replied, planting a soft kiss on the side of your head, praising his lucky stars that he had you. He had lost you once, and he sure as hell never would again.

A/N - What a day! Carlos' birthday, Charles won Monza... next week is the 5 year anniversary of he won in Spa, he wins in Monza (there is something coming out for that, don't you fret) and I am having a wonderful day. I felt shit to begin with, but now? I do not care.

Happy birthday Carlos! Even when you're driving a Williams, I will still be watching out for the smoothest of operations 🌶🌶

|masterlist|

[cloudcountry]

Hello! If it's not too much trouble, can I ask for some headcanons for Deuce, Jack, Jamil, and Azul overhearing the reader gushing about them to a friend? It's not like they meant to eavesdrop, they just happened to be passing and they heard a snippet of all the nice things the reader said about them

SUMMARY: they eavesdrop on you while you gush about them!

COMMENTS: writing for jamil is so hard...........

Deuce left to go get some snacks for you and Ace, since he was used to carrying all of the bags anyways. He didn’t expect to come back to hearing you gush about him to a disgruntled Ace, going on and on about how amazing you thought he was.

“Prefect pleaseee, spare me. I know you’re down bad.” Ace groans, and Deuce stands outside the door just a little bit longer even though he knows it's bad to eavesdrop.

“What do you mean!? Have you seen him!? I am the perfect, acceptable amount of interested, thank you very much!” you proclaim dramatically, “He’s just so hard working, and so kind, and even though he’s so tough he’s also really gentle...have you seen him make eggs? I wish I was those eggs!”

Deuce’s face feels like it’s burning. He steps into the room, unable to listen to your rambling anymore. You and Ace stop talking and turn to look at him, only for Ace to burst with laughter at his flaming red face.

Jack would love to say that he’s unfazed. He’d also love to grab his tail and stop it from wagging so damn much, but unfortunately that is not how his tail works. It's a bit odd that you decided to tell this to Ruggie of all people, and honestly Jack thinks you should have gone to literally anyone else.

He respects his upperclassmen of course, but he knows Ruggie is going to tease both of you relentlessly. He can already hear it now, the high pitched, iconic Ruggie laugh ringing in his ears 

Regardless...his face is far warmer than it usually is. Maybe he likes being praised...just a little bit...

If Azul is being honest, he was just eavesdropping to gain insight into your struggles. Now he’s stuck sitting a table away from you, hiding his face with a textbook because he definitely looks at least a little bit panicked and he has a reputation to uphold.

You're babbling on and on to your Heartslabyul friends about how lovely you think Azul is, despite their interjections of “Prefect that is literally the guy who screwed us over” and “Prefect...you could do so much better for yourself, you know that?”

He covers his surprised snort with a soft cough when you shoot back with a “Well you two were the ones silly enough to sign his deal. His business is still running for a reason.”

Really, you’re something else.

Jamil isn’t used to praise that it’s for his food and isn’t from Kalim. Unfortunately enough, it’s him who you’re talking to when he walks into Scarabia’s lounge.

He freezes in place when he hears his name, about to open his mouth and chastise you two for talking about someone when they’re not there, but he hears just what you have to say and he’s so glad he didn’t get the chance to say anything.

Staring at you and Kalim’s backs, he has to admit he’s more than a little flustered and more than a little annoyed that he can’t see your face or the smile you’re so obviously wearing when you talk about how beautiful and clever Jamil is.

A foreign emotion rears its head inside him and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—he’ll just get you to spill your guts later.

-> deuce's darlings . . . @vivigoesinsane @deucespadez @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> azul's business partners . . . @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

[plushish]

Adam with a reader who’s very witty and quick with comebacks?

just some silly pre-conference banter! | Adam x Reader

headcanon/drabble — how would Adam be like with a reader who is sharp-witted?

content & warnings — NSFW, fem reader, fem pronouns, fingering & cunnilingus, sexual act happening in a public place (workplace).

a/n — this takes place in some sort of office-setting, i dont know what goes on up there in heaven but i like to think its similar to what we've seen so far in hell, so i'm sure conferences aren't unheard of. i wasn't sure what format this idea should take, so it begins like a headcanon list but finishes up with a drabble. it's also rushed and i struggled with it a lot but. we ball!!!!!!

Adam considers himself to be a pretty funny guy, always dishing out 'sick burns' on others, but his pride gets hurt really easily. When it comes to a reader who can keep up with him in comebacks; he's definitely impressed by it, thinks it's hot as fuck, but he'd never openly admit it because it also a ignites a strong sense of competition in him.  

The tension between the two of you is uncomfortably palpable, how you twist him through every conversation and leave him to stammer like a fool just when he thinks he's bested you. Watching him seethe is endlessly entertaining to you, it brings you satisfaction, finding your own sense of pride in seeing that bad boy persona crack little by little.

The two of you will be going back-and-forth every time Sera calls for a conference, taking up half of the allotted time with your back-and-forths, and everyone graced with the luck to have been summoned there just wishes the two of you would fuck already so they didn't have to keep sitting through this.

But he secretly likes it, your flippancy towards his status and identity as First Man, how you're always so quick to shut down his sleazy remarks with an air of arrogance, going toe-to-toe with his own. Cute. 

Until one day, you finally give into him– He somehow manages to get you to fuck him, and for days after, his bragging around the office is incessant: "[Name] cries when she cums!", "Her orgasm face is just the cutest fuckin' thing, I mean could you imagine? Wait, actually don't, don't picture it–"

You start to get fed up, not only annoyed at his oversharing and his ceaseless bragging about things that simply weren't true, but because you hadn't even gotten to cum from the experience. Instead of confronting him, you had a plan in place that would get you what you wanted, so you instead opted to ignore the hushed whisperings around you all day.

...Until a little later, when you're in an empty conference room together, and he's sitting across the table from you. Licking the lid of his yogurt container with a smug look. Mimicking the disappointingly tepid treatment he'd given to you the night before.

"Should we... address what happened, [Name]?" He asks smugly, like it was a topic of business, leaning forward onto the table with his hands clasped together.

"No, I'm good." 

"Noooo?" Adam's voice is as sugary as the extra pumps of syrup he'd overloaded his coffee with this morning in the breakroom. You'd seen that diabetes-inducing horror as it happened. "Why not? I feel like it's something we should talk about."

"Why?" You ask simply. "It happened, and that's it."

That gets him a little annoyed. Confused, too; why weren't you playing along?

"Didn't mean a thing to you, then?"

"Nah."

"Oh please, [Name]," he scoffs. He’s getting offended at the thought now, his wings giving a small flap in indignance. He’s supposed to be the aloof one! You should be begging for it to happen again.

"Don't fuckin' play. My dick gave you the best fuck you've ever had and now you don’t know how to feel."

“The best? At putting me to sleep, maybe. I did get a good nap out of it afterward, so.”

To Adam, the only thing better than your negative attention is your positive attention, and the only thing worse than that is your indifference. He hates feeling desperate, but you bring him to that shameful peak.

“You were on my dick like you had a fuckin' crush,” Adam continues to ramble on, trying to find a weak spot. “Fucking me probably meant a lot to you, huh?” 

"I hump my pillow before bed and it means as much." 

"Your pillow can't plow you like I do."

"No, but at least it actually gets me to cum."

Adam’s dick twitches in his pants. You know exactly what you're doing. Those words, delivered with that cruel flippancy he loves and hates so much, are precisely tailored-- All to drive him over the edge. 

“Then maybe that was just a trial run,” He says after a long, fervent pause. "Maybe you need another taste."

You smirk a little, but only offer more disdain.

"No thanks, I've had enough to decide I'm no longer interested."

"Oh come on," He finally says. He's desperate at another chance now, he needs the validation of making you cum for his pride to be restored.

"Just give me one more shot?"

And so there you are, bottoms down, legs spread, Adam's fingers inside you, sitting on the edge of the table where a meeting is supposed to happen in about 25 minutes.

You're sopping wet. He drags a finger over your cunt before spreading it. "You're so cute, all blushing and shit. Makes me crazy hard."

"Your vocabulary is fucking terrible. Stop talking."

"You like it, though." He grins, teasingly lifting his fingers away from your aching cunt to show you your own wetness. You let out a small whine at the absence. "You sure you want me to stop?"

"Shut up, I said," You grab him by his hair and shove his mouth where you want it, aggressive and impatient. "-and start eating."

Normally Adam is not one to take demands like that. But in this position-- looking up at your stern face from between your legs--he obeys. He kisses at your cunt over and over, sweet little pecks like a first crush. The sensation makes your core tighten around nothing. Adam was not one to take his time; he was teasing you like this on purpose. You weren't having it.

And so pettily, you decide to say: "You can do better than that."

So naively, he does, he takes your dare and you're practically gushing all over the conference table by the time he gets in there and starts eating for real. Desperately suckling your clit between those smirking lips, that mouth that never fucking shuts up.

You cum with a satisfied sigh, as if you'd just had a good stretch rather than an orgasm on his face. He looks up at you expectantly, lips glistening with your aftertaste. Eyes wide and eager, waiting for the praise that is to come, only for you to lean in and whisper:

"Look who has a crush now."

a/n — pls forgive me for taking so long to answer this! i don't think it's exactly what you're looking for but i tried. it's more of an "adam with a reader who he has a sexually-charged, competitive work relationship with" type of deal. you just like to play with him and you know exactly how to make him desperate

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁. (PART IV)

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: fourth and final part of this multi-chapter fic. PART I, PART II, PART III i've had such a blast writing this series, thank you all for your support and lovely words! now pull up the vitamin string quartet version of "love story" and enjoy!

Your heel dug into the gravel of the Bridgertons’ drive as you exited the carriage with grace. You gently raised your gown just centimeters off the ground as you walked towards the house, your mother and father following a fair distance behind you. You hadn’t stepped inside yet but your heart was already in your throat. You admired the front garden as you stepped up the marble stairs. Roses clung to the fences and wrapped themselves around the banisters decoratively. You took a deep breath. No matter what happens tonight, you told yourself, you will be alright.

The halls were lined with lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses of varying family names, old as the land itself. The sound of a string quartet wafted through the air, indiscernible over the chatter of civil conversation. You followed the dulcet tones, seamlessly weaving your way through the home you had come to know so well. You turned a corner and were met with an array of couples mid-dance, bodies moving with such effortless grace it was a pleasure to just stand by and watch from the sidelines. You surveyed the room, inspecting each man with almost analytical precision. One of them was your mystery man.

“There you are.” sighed Benedict as he appeared at your side. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You chanced a look at him, and you wished you hadn’t. He was gorgeous; his hair shone beneath the warm glow of the chandelier, his eyes shimmered like moonlight bouncing off water. Mostly it was his smile (that shy, boyish smile) that set off a chain of dominoes within you, resulting in a nervous pang in your stomach. 

“Have you?” you asked, keeping your response brief so as to mask the waver in your voice.

“Indeed I have.” he smirked, but his good humor quickly faded as his face took on a more solemn look. “I wish to apologize for the things I said when I saw you last. I was a fool, I still am.”

“Ben-” you began to protest, but were quickly cut off.

“No, really!” He went on, his cheeks taking on a rosy shade. “You were right in every respect. And marriage doesn’t have to be the way I described. You know I have an inclination for hyperbole. Anyway, please don’t hate me. I couldn’t bear-”

“Benedict.” you said sternly. “You’re rambling.” You took his now trembling gloved hands in your own and met his gaze. 

“I just wish you could forgive me.” he whispered for only you to hear.

“My dear Benedict.” you sighed, a sweet smile curling at the corner of your lips. “I forgave you the minute I left. I hate to admit this to you, but you should know I never have been able to stay cross with you for too long.” Now it was he who smiled, a beam so bright it alone could have lit up the ballroom. 

“Well, then.” Benedict began. “There’s no use of a lovely lady coming to a ball just to stand around in corners, is there?” And with that, he gently led you onto the dance floor.

You fell into a rhythm that came surprisingly easy to you, as if you were exactly where you were meant to be. The strings filled the room with jovial, romantic music, lifting the spirits of anyone who would listen. It was impossible not to dance, not to feel as if you were floating. Your hand fit in Benedict’s like they were made for the sole purpose of intertwining. And when your eyes met, sparks flew, visible to no one but the two of you. 

To anyone else, it might seem that the two of you were in love. What a silly thought. Though, you couldn’t help but feel that such an assumption might have some truth to it. You most definitely behaved in the childish, playful way lovers do. You confided in him without a shadow of a doubt. And he did always manage to send a certain prickle of excitement down your spine, not unlike the spark of an electric current. Good God! 

You were in love with Benedict Bridgerton.

The song came to an end, and you curtsied before Benedict, while he bowed. You were sure he was about to request another dance but you were left wondering when Daphne tugged on your sleeve. “Where have you been?” she squealed delightedly. “Come, mingle!” You laughed, mostly from the nerves, as you shot Benedict one last glance over the shoulder before being whisked away.

You had made decent conversation and exchanged pleasantries with members of the ton for long enough. You were beginning to grow restless, your foot tapping mindlessly against the hard floor. You needed to find Benedict. You excused yourself sheepishly, but you had no time to give that any thought. You simply turned on your heel and began scouring through every room in search of Benedict.

You checked the parlor, the staircase, even the room where Benedict could usually be found painting or writing. He was nowhere to be found. Just when you were on the verge of abandoning hope, you thought to look in one last place.

The intoxicating scent of roses and lilacs overcame your senses as you stepped out into the garden. The lights from within the house bled out onto the patio, casting everything and everyone in it in a golden hue. There he stood, hands clasping each other tightly behind his back, standing straight as a pencil. He seemed to be deep in thought, since he was startled at your timid call. “Benedict?” He turned, his brows furrowed. “Tell me, dear.”

“I need to tell you something.” you began. “I have a bit of confession to-

“So do I.” he said, his eyes lowering to the neatly kept grass. “And I think I should go first.”

“What would make you think th-”

“It’s me!” he blurted out, not able to contain himself a second longer. “It’s always been me! Those letters, your admirer. Surely you must have known, somewhere deep in your soul, that it has always been me. Never before have I felt this way for anyone, my dear. Every moment I spend in your presence, it gives me such immense joy that I cannot help but carry it with me wherever I go. If you would have me, Lord, if you would have me- I should be the happiest man who ever lived, I swear it. I love you! Even when you are cross with me and I with you I will always love you with an unrelenting passion. Even if you should reject me, I will never stop loving you, for I have no choice in the matter. Surely there must be worse fates and than to love one so unconditionally.”

You stood before him, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide as plates and welling with tears. You tried to speak but couldn’t. So many thoughts rushed to your mind, memories of your many years as friends, every occasion where you felt what he described. There were too many to count. So instead of speaking, you simply took a step forward, pulled him in by his tie and pressed your lips to his in a kiss so passionate you knew right then it would become the subject of many sonnets and paintings from Benedict’s part. You felt as if all the golden light which bathed the garden was now wrapped around your heart.

“I wish this moment could last forever.” you said, a joyful tear streaming down your cheek. 

Benedict laughed like a shy schoolboy as he wrapped his arms around you like a man starved and pulled you impossibly close. “Well, my love.” he beamed. “Forever has just begun.”

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @i-padfootblack-things @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @enchantedbytomandhenry @dd122004dd @marvel-r5 @marimarvelfan

[lovingksuki]

✰ SECRET ADMIRER

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;

word count: 1k

"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."

"there's not."

"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.

"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.

then you grabbed the red paper in her hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.

"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.

"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am chocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.

"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.

"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.

"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.

"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."

"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.

"hey!"

"more like the pretty girl type."

"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"

"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."

at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.

"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."

"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.

"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.

"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.

"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.

"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.

"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.

"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.

"precisely."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.

"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.

but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.

"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.

"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.

"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."

"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.

whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.

"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.

"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.

"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.

when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.

"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.

"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.

"mmm... asui-san?"

"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.

"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.

"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."

"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."

the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.

"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"

"uh, ok."

his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.

after the girls left he released his breath.

"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.

"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"

"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."

"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.

"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"

he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.

"a bit more."

every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.

trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."

"shit."

[moralesmilesanhour]

seeing double

summary: Milo keeps getting mistaken for Miles and he's like really over it wc: ~500' a/n: I feel like I've just been writing heavy-ish stuff non-stop so I thought I'd just do something for the sillies. Here is my masterlist for more Stuff

“Yo, Miles, we got a problem–oh.”

Milo gave Ganke Lee an icy glare from where he sat on the stoop in front of his house. The husky Korean boy had met his twin brother in ninth grade, and the two became fast friends. They were not close enough, apparently, for Ganke to avoid occasionally mistaking the two boys and spilling bits and pieces of secret plans that Milo was decidedly not a part of. Like being fucking Spider-Man. The braids seemed to help, though not by a large margin.

Milo pulled back his purple hoodie to reveal them, for emphasis.

“Yeah, wrong guy,” he said flatly. “Need me to text him?”

Ganke tensed. 

“Um, nah, I think I’ll be able to find him.”

Milo scoffed. “Scared you’re gonna spill his lil’ ‘secret identity’?”

The other boy’s eyes widened.

“You…You know?”

“I know how to put two and two together, Lee. Now do you need me to text him or not?”

Ganke pursed his lips for a second, then shrugged. “Tell him the Goblin’s loose again. See ya.”

He gave a quick salute, then began to jog back in the direction he came from.

The rest of Miles’ week went about the same way:

“Miles, how’s the art project coming along?”

“I’m not Miles.”

“We miss you, Miles!”

“Not Miles, but I’ll pass the message along.”

“Miles, it's not funny. Let's go.”

“I'm. Not. Miles!”

You struggled to tug your boyfriend along behind you before the showing time for the movie you two had picked out rolled around. The tight new cornrows sitting on top of his head seemed to be cutting off the flow to his brain, because he seemed to have no idea what you were talking about. 

“We're gonna be late!”

“Late to what?”

Fully on the brink of giving up, you dropped his hand and spun around to face him.

“Look, do you wanna go or not? You can't keep flaking on me like this, this is the third time–”

“And it won't happen again!”

There, jogging up to you in a white sweatshirt, hair very clearly un-braided, was Miles. 

You blinked hard a few times, then looked back at Not Miles, who had his arms crossed in irritation. 

“Yo, your girl tried to kidnap me just now,” he snapped. “Can you not be late to everything?”

The real Miles glanced between you and his twin for a moment before bursting into a wheezing fit of laughter.

“It's not funny!” You both said in unison as he held his stomach. 

After wiping a tear from his eye and regaining his composure, he gestured towards Not Miles. 

“You wanna introduce yourself first?”

Not Miles sighed.

“Milo Morales. My real name's Manuel, but I don't want nobody calling me ‘Manny’, so I go by Milo. Don't forget it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Miles.

“Why didn't you tell me you had a brother with the same face as you?”

He shrugged. 

“Wasn’t important information at the time.”

“ ‘Wasn't important’– I almost took your brother out on a date by accident!”

“You're not my type.”

“Alright, look,”

Miles took your hand. His palm was softer than Milo's, you noted.

“I'll explain at the movies, I promise.”

Your expression softened, and you squeezed his hand back.

“You'd better.”

“See you at home?” Miles turned to Milo, who was already stalking off in the other direction with his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever, man!”

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Introduction + My Shazam Masterlist!

Welcome to my blog! My name is Fluffy!

I am an artist and fan fiction writer who mostly focuses on one fandom at a time. My current obsession is Shazam!

My second blog is @fawcetttweets where I post Tweets from the DC universe, focusing on the daily lives of Fawcett City’s heroes and civilians!

My banner was created by @chocolatebriosh during art fight! The characters are my OCs :)

You can find me on TikTok and Ao3 with the username ChaoticallyFluffy or by using the links!

I tried my best to make it chronological with the oldest on top and the newest on the bottom, so if my early stuff sucks, feel free to skip to the bottom of each section!

In order I have my ficlets, fan art, animatics, and misc (mostly add-ons to other posts or tiny ideas that are too short to put into ficlets)!

The characters involved in the posts will be next to each link! Billy and Captain Marvel will just be called Billy unless they are specifically separate beings in the post.

Masterlist begins under the cut :)

Where'd he go? (Billy, JL)

Curses! (Billy, Mr. Mind, JL)

Identical (Billy, Mary, JL)

Whats in a Last Name? (Billy, JL, Batfam)

Billy Being a Menace (Billy, Bruce Wayne)

Lies and Half Truths (Billy, Danny Phantom, JL)

Ah, a Child (Billy, JL)

Power of Perception (Billy, JL)

Doomed by the Narrative + Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Billy, JL)

The Homeless Boy and Nepo Baby (Billy, Bruce Wayne)

Two Halves, Never Whole (Billy, Jason Blood, Marvel, Etigran)

Blissful Ignorance (Billy, JL)

Blunder + Look at this! (Billy, Marvel, Shazamily,

Billy Batfam (Billy, Batfam)

Silly Billy + Pocket Home (Billy, JL, Shazamily)

What are you, a cop? + Now you see me, now you don't (Billy, JL)

Gender Swap! (Billy, Freddy)

Learning to Live (Billy, JL)

Stop Calling Me Dad! (Billy, Shazamily, JL)

Matchmaking (Billy, Diana, Gay animals)

'Tis but a scratch! (Billy, JL)

Tea With Persephone (Billy, Persephone)

Home Alone (Billy, Sivana, Shazamily)

Marvel Licks Cocaine. Wait, wha- (Billy, JL)

Body Swap (Billy, Marvel)

Parent Trap (Billy, Mary, CC, Marilyn)

Serious Accusations (Tawky Tawny, Billy, JL)

Celebrity Lifestyle (JL, Billy)

Warrior Cats (Freddy)

JL as platonic Soulmates (Billy, JL)

Swear Jar (Billy, Shazamily)

Sibling Fights (Freddy, Billy, Mary, Red Robin)

Three Kids in a Trench Coat (Billy, Mary, Freddy, JL)

Clothes (Billy, Mary, CC, Marilyn, JL)

Dead name, literally (Billy, Gay people)

Unicorns! (Billy)

No Longer 2 in 1 (Billy, other)

Magical Garbage Disposal (Billy, superman, batman)

Hot to Go! (Mary, JL, Billy)

Impromptu Tour (Billy, Batman, JL)

First Shazam Fan Art! Learning to Live outfits (Billy)

False Advertising (Billy)

The Duality of Marvel (Billy, Marvel)

Skill Issue (Freddy, Billy, JL)

Stock Photos (Billy, Marvel, C!Tommyinnit)

It's not you, its him (Billy, a random small child)

Closet Cosplay (Billy, Freddy, kind of Superman and Batman)

Experimental style (Billy)

If your reading this, i still haven't used the stickers. (Billy, Marvel)

*Pats him* *pats him* *pats hi- (Billy)

Whiteboard with friends! (Billy, Mary, Freddy, + more)

Billy Ratson (Billy, Marvel)

Bored (Billy)

Magical Girl Black Adam (Black Adam)

Sunny Sparkles (Sunny)

Ghost Boy! (Billy)

Gartic phone highlights pt. 1 (many characters!)

Tiger Bleps! (Tawky Tawny, Billy)

FREDDY!! (Billy, Marvel, Freddy)

Figurine Size Matters (Technically Batman and Billy)

Surprise! (Billy, JL)

Magical Girl?! (Billy, Barry, Poorly Drawn Evil Wizard)

Home (Billy)

Everyone Loves the Boy! (Harley Quinn, Billy)

Nails, nails, nails (Billy, Divine Twitch Chat, JL)

Stop. (Billy)

*Pats him* *pats him* *pats hi- (Billy)

My first Shazam post!

He needs more love :( (Kind of Billy)

Link to 'Kill him with kindness' fic

Asking for Eldritch Ideas (Billy kind of. Interesting comments!)

Zoooom! (Freddy, Billy, Batmans limitless funds)

Happiness (Billy)

Wip game (Billy, Clark)

Chaos boys (Billy, Klarion)

Link to 'Picture Day' fic (Billy, Cissie)

The first idea for Fawcetttweets! (Billy)

Marvel's Adventure! (Billy)

Peak Billy Design (Billy)

MY Boy! (Billy technically)

Talking about my fics release

Venn diagram (Billy, C!Tommyinnit, and Dave Strider)

DND (none technically)

Charlie (Billy, CC, Batman)

WIP Tag Game (Billy, Clark, Barry, Victor, Hal)

Implications (Billy)

Laws (Fawcett)

Link to my fanfiction called 'Bugs' (Billy)

Symptoms (Billy)

Fae (Billy)

Gotta Go Fast (Billy)

Tummy ache :( (Billy)

Here’s some of my original content! I don’t really make much of it but I thought I should at least give you the option to see it :)

OC art:

First Date (Valley, Roxy)

[eowynstwin]

Obviously if your asks aren’t open then feel free to disregard this- (love your work btw I just- I cant- 🥰)

Do you think they keep the dog tags *ON* during sex? How do you think they’d wear them during it? Would they have you wear them?

You don’t HAVE to answer for each individual character obviously if you would rather just do it as a whole or just one that’s fine! Whatever works for you 💕

*cracks knuckles* I’ll do ‘em all. (Sorry for the long post, I’ll put it under a readmore when I get home 🙏)

Do the Tags Stay on in Bed?

Ghost wears his tags because, like the mask, they just don't ever come off. He is two people when he is with you--Ghost is the creature that can protect you, that can do the things Simon Riley would have been too weak for when it comes to your safety. But Simon is the man that could have loved you properly. Simon is the man Ghost believes could make you coffee in the morning, could rub your neck at the end of a long day.

It isn't initially why he wears his tags when he fucks you, but it is now--Ghost holds you in an iron grip, looms over you as he thrusts into you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall, and feels the tags with a dead man's name clink against his chest. They remind him that you deserve whatever is left of the man who would have been far better for you than Ghost ever could be.

Soap wears his tags fully out of pride. The SAS is his life, is a massive part of his identity, and while he knows not every mission he's sent on is wholly for the good, he holds onto his conviction to act with integrity and compassion no matter what. The SAS might not always do good, but he will, as much as he can.

He wants you to be proud of him, too--he's really doing it all for you, after all. When those tags hang between you as your legs are wrapped around his waist, as they come to rest on your chest when he leans down to kiss you, he wants you to know that when he wears them he's thinking of you.

Gaz has no preference, but more often than not they stay on because he forgets to take them off. Usually, it's because the moment you're both free with enough time to actually have sex, he isn't going to bother with silly things like getting completely undressed--he wants you, now.

So, they've whacked you in the face a couple times as the two of you have gone at it. It's too funny to get mad at, and Gaz always uses it as an excuse to "make it up to you." Sometimes he'll take them off, too, and put them around your neck instead. "Keep 'em safe for me, eh?" he says with a grin.

Price takes his tags off. Over 20 years of service have left him wanting something that exists apart from violence and bloodshed, and every moment he spends with you is that something. He doesn't want to be the Captain with you, not unless he has to be--putting his tags aside gives him permission to just be John with you.

Besides, they'd get in the way. John does his very, very best to please you, to satisfy you beyond any expectation you may have of him, and sometimes that leaves you needing to bite down on his neck to keep from screaming. You’d probably not prefer to break a tooth on the tags’ chain.

Alejandro also takes his tags off, although it’s less about keeping work and pleasure separate and more about the annoyance they can be. When he is with you, Alejo is focused wholly on you, and does not appreciate distractions of any sort. He doesn’t want to have to fling his tags around to get them out of the way, or let them hang to be caught on an errant foot or wrist.

He does, however, love to see you wear them. It’s totally a possessive thing, but in the best way—Alejo worships the ground you walk on, and seeing his name around your neck inspires the same awe usually reserved for the divine. He thinks you could have anyone you wanted, and is humbled daily that you continue to choose him.

Rudy doesn’t care either way if the tags are on or off, and if the topic ever comes up he leaves that up to you. It’s an attitude that is very in-character—Rudy’s satisfaction comes from ensuring that you are satisfied, no matter what. Rudy’s love language, hands down, is acts of service.

Similarly to Alejo, however, he does enjoy seeing you wear his tags. “They belong to you anyway, mi vida,” he’ll tell you, lining your neck with gentle kisses. “All of me does.” (He has been known, however, to forget where he puts them if they do come off. So it’s probably better if they stay on.)

Bonus: Valeria gave hers to you a long time ago. She asks very frequently to see them, to make sure you keep them with you at all times. She promised herself she would never, ever carry their weight again, but she also can’t quite bear to throw them away, so now they stay with the only person in the world that she trusts.

If you wear them to bed, it will inspire a frenzy in her that will leave you limping the next morning. Those tags are a past version of her, a version she emerged from like a snake shedding its skin. While she is never sure how to feel about that previous self, seeing you take care its vestiges satisfies an ache in Valeria that she will never acknowledge.

Bonus: Graves has mixed feelings about his tags overall, being that he is technically not required to wear them anymore. They don’t mean the same thing to him now that they used to. That doesn’t mean they aren’t always on him, of course—he keeps them tucked into his boots. So you never see them.

If you were to ever find them, bring them into the bedroom? It could go one of two ways. On the one hand, you could end up benefitting short-term from the frustrated agitation those tags inspire, with Graves using your body to relieve an old, invisible hurt you never knew about. He will withdraw from you afterwords, though, too caught up in himself to really connect with. On the other, he could just withdraw immediately, recede from you, and the tension of that encounter will linger for days. It’s best not to involve his tags at all.

[tiredmamaissy]

hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜

[vagabond-umlaut]

The Contract To Compromise

Chapter 1 of For Love's Sake Only... Or Is It? Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader; Victorian AU; Epistolary. Fluff, Angst, Drama & Romance; Arranged Marriage; Marriage of Convenience; Love at First Sight; Slow Burn; Letters; Secret Identity.

This work is loosely inspired by 'Daddy-Long-Legs' by Jean Webster, but of course, minus the icky problematic parts of the dynamics between the protagonist and her love interest. [The novel is a wonderful read otherwise!] [Also, I do not wish to kink-shame anyone.]

Chapter warnings: A FEW TOO MANY historical inaccuracies. Talks of bankruptcy and murder. [Nothing serious happens, though!]

To say you're happy might be the greatest understatement of the century.

Cheeks hurting from your wide grin, you throw the receding horse carriage one last glance before rushing out the front door. To the Itadori's two blocks away. Whose door is opened by none but your closest and dearest friend Yuuji.

"Oh, hello—" The boy greets, eyes wide yet crinkling into a slow smile, only for you to startle him further by suddenly pulling him into a tight embrace. The sound of his yelp lost in that of your hearty chuckles, you announce, "He agreed, Yuuji. He agreed. Oh goodness, I cannot believe my good fortune but he agreed."

"He... as in your fiance?" Yuuji inquires when you let go of him, closing the door behind you then leading you into the house. Sounds of sizzling food reach you from the kitchen further down the hallway. Ah, so Megumi must have woken up already.

You nod back. "Mmhm. The one and only. The man agreed to help me. I cannot believe it but his employee Uraume arrived at our place today morning and delivered a letter from their employer. Lord Ryomen says he agrees to fund the remainder of my college tuition."

A shadow falls over Yuuji's face at your words— one teeming with pity and sympathy— you try not to let it hurt your feelings, your pride as much as it should. As much as it used to.

Though you suppose there's very little of your pride left after your once-affluent family goes bankrupt and you give your consent to an arranged marriage with a rich stranger from faraway lands— something which once made you wrinkle your nose in distaste— but you agree to it eagerly now only for the financial help for your family promised by your prospective groom should you decide to wed him.

And even less of your pride left after you write him a letter not even three days later, requesting him to pay for your remaining last year at college, though not stating it in explicit terms. Instead, saying how one might benefit from a well-educated, empowered wife. Besides assuring you have every intention of paying him back the money he spends for your studies.

A call of your name draws you away from your mind. Yuuji frowns, miserable and contrite. "I wish we could help you, but with me paying for my grandfather's treatment and with 'Gumi paying his father's debts... we're very, very sorry."

"It's okay, you silly boy," you brush his genuine apology away with a chuckle, reaching forwards to squeeze his palm reassuringly, "To have the two of you by my side even when nearly everyone else left me— that's the greatest help you and Megumi could ever give me and my family. Thank you so much, Yuuji."

A weak grin breaks across his face but before he can say anything, Megumi walks into the room with a tray of tea and pastries. You send him a teasing grin, "So how's staying with Yuuji treating you, hm? Quite well, is it not?"

"Better than the very best," Megumi replies, simple and solemn, settling on the settee beside his lover and slipping an arm round his waist. "Though I suppose you're faring the best of us all. I could hear you laughing through the sounds of the pans and cookers."

"That I am," you admit easily, taking a bite from a red velvet pastry, an appreciative hum leaving you at its heavenly taste, "My fiance agreed to pay for my college tuition after all. I can now graduate with no worries in a year— and no. No more sorry's, please. I won't hesitate to forget my governess' lessons and hit the two of you if I need to sit through yet another apology. Please, Fushiguro."

The addressed boy sighs at your demand, relenting much sooner than you expected him to. "Alright, I won't. But know that we two are always here for you, okay? We might not be able to help you financially, but that should never stop you from sharing your troubles with us. Particularly if they concern your fiance. Especially if they concern him mistreating you in any form. Yes?"

"Is that an offer to murder him if he does so?" you inquire, half-amused, half-serious. He shrugs. "If the need arises, why not? My birth father was a horrible parent but he was a damn good assassin. He taught me more than a few tricks."

"Not that we will ever need to see them, however," Yuuji adds within the next beat with a tense chuckle and a glare at his lover you've never reckoned he can give, "Su– I mean, Lord Ryomen is a good man. He's certain to treat you right. Don't worry."

And worrying, you're not. Not very much, that is.

"I hope he is," you hum quietly, "Though he is kind of odd, I must say, what with his conditions for agreeing to pay for my tuition and such."

"Conditions?"

Megumi's sharp query shoves you out your thoughts, making you realize you weren't as quiet as you deemed you were. You throw back a small smile.

"Not anything serious, fret not. He simply wishes me to send him a letter every fortnight, updating him on my daily life. Uraume said it is for Lord Ryomen to know his help isn't being in vain. And to know his bride better, considering he cannot visit me from his province anytime soon."

"And you agreed to it?" Yuuji asks, exchanging a look with the other boy.

You pretend to ignore it. "Of course. Why wouldn't I? Although..." you trail off, eventually adding with a frown, "he asked me not to expect any reply from him, whatsoever— which is somewhat disheartening, if I must be honest. It's almost as if I'll be writing letters to a wall."

"Yet you agreed to it?" It is Megumi who asks this time, scowling, "If you did not like the condition, why did you say yes to it? You should have rejected it."

"Beggars can seldom be choosers, 'Gumi," you sigh with a mirthless smile.

"Besides, my marriage to Lord Ryomen will be one of convenience solely— it's good he won't be replying to my letters. This will prevent my heart from succumbing to foolish dreams of love— I'll remember our relationship is nothing but a transaction. Him, helping my poor family and me by sending money the 3rd of every month. Me, thanking him by agreeing to wed him thus providing him a companion, and possibly a means to carry forward his lineage. Nothing less. Definitely nothing more."

A stifling silence follows the tail end of your words— one you attempt to break with a wide grin when you realize the effect you had on the atmosphere of the room. "Ah, but the good thing is I can finish my education and be a graduate— something I've dreamt of ever since I was a tiny girl. I feel so immensely relieved now."

"Yes. Every cloud does have a golden lining, doesn't it?" Yuuji chimes in almost instantly with a cheery beam, bless the boy and his kind soul. Megumi regards you carefully for a moment longer then exhales audibly, a sign of him conceding.

"It is silver, not golden," he corrects the other boy with a disapproving look before pinning it on you, "and yes, I suppose it does— but don't let your head be in the clouds, will you?"

Your lips curve in a confident little grin.

"I won't, 'Gumi. Of course, I won't."

I had forgotten this was there in my drafts. xD

Divider by @benkeibear. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A promise kept

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 8

Prompt: Idiots to lovers

Rated: G

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; Mistaken identity; Fluff; Modern AU if you squint

CW: none

Notes: @house-of-the-moving-image and I came up with this while bouncing ideas for another drabble and fell instantly in love with the idea. Be sure to also check out the precious art they made!!!

The bars of the jungle gym creak but Steve doesn’t lift his face from his hunched knees.

“Hey, big boy, don't cry.” 

“‘m not crying. Go away!”

This is ridiculous. He's almost eight, and eight-year-old boys don't cry. Not even if their only friend in the whole world just told them they're moving away to live with their uncle. 

They don't even know each other’s names. Names don't matter when you're eight and you're both at the park and looking for someone to play with. 

So Steve is big boy. 

And his friend … well, Steve mostly calls him his dragon.

It's because of this game they have. Steve is a king and the other boy his dragon and the jungle gym their castle, and every day, they have a new adventure. 

Except now, there won't be any more adventures.

“Oh? But how am I supposed to give you this?” 

Steve lifts his head, goes a bit cross-eyed at the flower that's hovering right in front of his face. 

“What would I want with that?” he snaps. “Flowers are for girls.” 

His dragon chuckles as he joins him on his perch. The playground stretches out under them. Their kingdom. 

“But this isn't just any flower. It's magical.” 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Magical?” 

“Yup!” His friend's face breaks into a grin, two teeth short. “As long as you keep it, I'll always make my way back to you. It may take a while, but I'll find you eventually.” 

“Promise?” Steve murmurs. There's a lump in his throat and it comes out small and quiet.

“I promise.” The other boy winks and tugs the flower behind his ear. “That I'll find you, and that I'll always be your dragon. And now, my king … how about one final adventure?” 

*

The colors of the jungle gym are faded with age. Like the pressed flower in its frame on his bedroom wall. 

“Oh hey, Steve!” 

Steve looks up from the book in his lap to find a familiar someone next to their picnic blanket.

“Eddie, hi!” He smiles, even as his stomach drops. “I … what are you doing here?” 

“Steve?” Will asks, ogling Eddie's tattoos and wild hair with large eyes. “Who's this?” 

“Oh, erm …” Steve runs an awkward hand through his hair. “My friend Eddie. He just moved here. Eddie, this is Will and El, the kids I babysit?” 

“Of course,” Eddie dips into a bow, which makes the twins giggle. “Steve has told me all about you.” 

“Do you want to sit with us?” El asks. “Steve is reading the How to train your dragon books to us.” 

“Fuck yeah, I love dragons!” Eddie cheers. Only he doesn’t sit on the blanket like a normal person - he perches himself on the steps of the jungle gym and hisses, pulling a silly face and mimicking claws with his hands. El whoops and claps while Will smiles shyly. Steve needs to swallow against the memories that threaten to crawl up his throat. 

*

“Was it alright to invite Eddie?” El asks. They've finished reading for the day and she helped Steve get snow cones. “You said he's your friend, but you seem sad when you look at him.”

Steve sighs.

“It's okay,” he says, because how do you explain this to a seven-year-old? 

How do you explain I only met him a few weeks ago but I really like him and it confuses me because it seems like I've known him forever because he reminds me so much of someone I used to know and I'm scared because it feels like I'm betraying that person even though I'm sure they've long forgotten about me?

Will is up on the jungle gym when they round the corner, beaming from ear to ear and talking animatedly with Eddie, who is gesturing up at him from the ground. 

“El!” he calls out when he spots his sister. She smiles and clambers up to join him, handing over one of the dripping snow cones. “Eddie has the best ideas. He just told me about this game he used to play as a kid. Did you know the jungle gym could be a castle and we could be kings and dragons? What do you want to be? We could-” 

“Steve?” 

Someone touches his shoulder and he flinches back into his own body. Eddie’s voice is full of concern, and okay, that's probably because he just dropped their snow cones. They're forming rainbow-colored puddles in the grass. 

“Stevie, c'mon, talk to me! You're freaking me out here!”

He snaps his head up. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eddie smiles. His eyes are large with worry. Large and brown and crinkling at the corners and so familiar and Steve's an idiot. “You just zoned out there, I thought-” 

“It's you,” Steve mutters. His hands are shaking and his eyes are stinging and then the next thing he knows is that his arms are around Eddie’s neck and he's sobbing into his shoulder. “Holy fuck, it's really you! You're my dragon!” 

“Wait, what?” Eddie pulls back, smile wide and incredulous. His fingers wipe away Steve’s tears, trace the shape of his cheekbones and jaw. “You're- Shit, really? I knew you looked familiar, but I thought there was no way-” 

“I was feeling so bad!” Steve blurts, chest heaving with what might be sobs or laughter, and who cares really, when he found his dragon again? “I was so scared to fall for you because-” 

“Oh?” Eddie’s grin isn't missing any teeth, but it's still just as brilliant. “Are you now?” 

“Huh?” 

Eddie chuckles. “Falling for me?” 

Steve feels himself flush, even as he gives a shaky nod. Eddie’s eyes are soft as he pulls him in. 

“It's okay, big boy. You don't have to be afraid of anything while I'm around.”

“This is really weird,” El whispers from somewhere above them as their lips meet. “I don't think they understand how being friends works.”

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