#and that's pretty much the first thing I do after this

[kxsagi]

Omg I ran here as soon as I woke up because I’ve got ideas!!!!

I even left this in my notes app but:

https://youtube.com/shorts/nUb7dVadJYA?si=I2ameWw30paQmV8W

But like this with bllk boys??? Or just a one shot with anyone? This is like a friends to lovers thing 😩😩 gonna combust from this because literally (I know it’s an ad but still eienfiejwkdndj)

Anyways sorry for the rant I missed your inbox 🫶🫶

“𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬… 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬?”

a/n: leaving it in your notes app is true dedication 😭 I LOVE THIS REQUEST

ft. isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, karasu tabito, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

you’re sitting in his lap. like it’s nothing. like it’s a chair. 

he just taps his knee like “seat’s open” and you go “sweet, thanks” and proceed to text like you’re not in each other’s personal space. 

he literally feeds you from his bowl at restaurants. you just open your mouth without looking. he doesn’t even question it. 

calls you “love” to mess with you but keeps doing it because “haha it’s funny right? unless…?” 

once you yawned and he stretched his arms around you at the same time. didn’t move them. you didn’t move either. you were like “comfy.” 

everyone thinks you’re dating. you guys are like “nooo we’re besties!” but you wear his hoodies and he kisses your forehead when you’re sad. 

shidou ryusei

“you’re literally obsessed with me.” 

“shut up, i am not.” 

proceeds to send him 3 memes, 5 tik toks, and a voice note that ends in giggling. 

has you saved in his phone as “wifey 💍💥” and you never changed it. 

shidou: “lemme see your tits.” 

you: “get me coffee first.” 

shidou: “deal.” 

gets the coffee and completely forgets about the bit. 

he always leans on you, touches your hair, lays his head in your lap. says you give off “emotional support pet” vibes. you’re like “that’s so rude” while playing with his hair. 

once slapped your ass after a game and was like “good job out there, champ 😌” 

you: “thanks babe 😘” 

cue both of you turning pink and pretending it didn’t happen. 

nagi seishiro

you share a bed. literally just knock out next to each other like it’s nothing. 

he grabs your waist when he’s gaming so you won’t move from beside him. sometimes rests his chin on your shoulder. 

one time you changed in front of him and he didn’t even blink. “bro, we’ve been friends since puberty. what haven’t i seen?” 

he calls you “princess” or “pretty thing” when you whine about stuff. it should be illegal how casual he makes it sound. 

nags you to cuddle him. “ugh you’re so annoying,” you say, while spooning him. 

once said “you’d probably make a good girlfriend” while half-asleep. you said “you’d make a horrible boyfriend” and he just chuckled and went “true.” 

kaiser michael

he grabs your face to check your makeup and says “you’re cute today.” you say “just today?” 

he goes “so you do like compliments from me.” 

you both flirt like it’s a sport. your friends have bets on who will fold first. 

you steal his cologne. he wears the bracelet you made at a craft fair. it’s blue. you don’t question it. 

the way he picks lint off your clothes and goes “my standards are higher than this.” you respond by poking your tongue at his cheek. 

has said “if we’re both still single by 30–” 

you: “we’ll be married?” 

kaiser: “no, i’ll cry myself to sleep every night.” 

you: “same.” 

he gets jealous when you flirt with others but masks it with sarcasm. you’re like “jealous much?” and he’s like “you wish. i’m just protective of my property– i mean friend.” 

bachira meguru

you’re always touching in some way. pinkies linked, arms around each other, knees bumping. 

he sends you selfies captioned “for my #1 fan 😘” and you reply “hottt. send more.” 

once made a “fake dating” joke and he was like “you’d like that huh?” and you were like “maybe i would” and then you both went silent for 10 minutes. 

draws hearts next to your name when doodling. you steal his hoodie and he acts like you just confessed. 

people flirt with him and he immediately goes “haha sorry i have a soulmate” and points at you. you do the same. 

one time he accidentally said “i love you” mid-laugh. you blinked. he blinked. 

“… cool lol.” 

“lol yeah.” 

itoshi rin

you know him too well. like dangerously well. 

he doesn’t have to say “i’m cold.” you just hand him your jacket. 

he glares at anyone who tries to hit on you and says “they’re not your type.” 

you: “what is my type then?” 

rin: deadpan “me.” 

“you look like shit,” he says. 

“you still like me though,” you reply. 

he doesn’t deny it. 

he lets you touch his hair. his hair. 

you once called him “baby” by accident and he just responded like it was normal. 

he only softens up around you. other people don’t recognize him when he’s being your rin. 

sometimes stares at you a little too long. you catch him. he looks away and mutters “shut up.” 

itoshi sae

you two look like enemies. emotionless stare vs sarcastic sighs. 

but then he wordlessly unties your hoodie strings because “you looked stupid.” 

texts you “.” when he wants attention. if you don’t answer, he sends “?” 

you call him “baby girl” in public just to piss him off. 

he flips you off. still lets you play with his hair later. 

he’ll literally insult your taste in music then send you a playlist titled “stuff you’d like.” 

“you look gross.” 

“thanks. it’s your shirt.” 

he says nothing because it actually is. 

you fell asleep on him once during a flight. he pretended to be annoyed but didn’t move for four hours. 

when you woke up, he just said “you drooled on me.” (but his phone has a picture of it. it’s his lock screen.)

karasu tabito

you flirt like it’s aggressive sparring. 

“you missed me?” 

“like i’d miss a rash.” 

constantly holds your chin when talking to you. it’s his way of annoying you. but your face gets warm every time and he lives for it. 

he’s always like “if we kissed right now, would it ruin the friendship?” 

you: “yeah.” 

him: “... worth it.” 

texts you “u up?” and then sends you a picture of your worst fashion crimes with the caption “jail.” 

you once dared him to kiss you “as a joke.” 

he did. it lasted too long. you were like “... weird.” 

him: “yup. wanna do it again?” 

he gives you a piggyback ride in public and then tells everyone you’re his emotional support gremlin. but no one else is allowed to say that but him. 

ness alexis

you once said “love you” before hanging up. he said “love you more” with no hesitation. 

you choked. he was unbothered. 

compliments you constantly and never acts like it’s weird. “you look gorgeous today.” 

you: “you said that yesterday.” 

him: “because it’s still true?” 

buys you matching things like mugs, necklaces, keychains. tells everyone you’re soulmates. 

when someone asks “are you dating?” he goes “not yet.” 

you laugh. he’s serious. 

always says “good morning beautiful” with a winky face. 

you threaten to block him. then text back “you too 💅” 

once asked you to rate his flirting. 

you: “4/10.” 

ness: “perfect. so you noticed it.” 

gets jealous when you mention other guys. won’t admit it. just messages you “i hope you choke” and then sends a heart. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[no-144444]

Can you write military!reader x f1!driver like they back from tour and surprises the driver persanely I would like to read Lando but you write with your fav driver ofc

home soil- m.verstappen

꩜summary: you surprise max with an early homecoming

꩜pairing: max verstappen x fem! sargeant! reader

꩜a/n: if there's anyone in the US military, sorry! i probs got something wrong about how it works- i'm irish so my b if i did!

Max hadn’t been looking forward to Miami. He knew the car would be shit. He knew he’d be fighting Lando on track. He knew Oscar would pass him. He knew everything in store for him, and he still had no word from you. You went off-grid 2 weeks ago. He had no idea where in the world you were. What you were doing. If you were safe. In all honesty, he hated your job. He hated being away from you for so long. He hated the amount of unknowns it came with. He hated it meant you had to stay in the US. He hated that it took him 4 months to convince you that he wanted you, and to have you believe him. 

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutter under his breath as he walked into his driver’s room. He could’ve ripped the thing apart. P4 in the race. He was pushing like crazy. 

“Alright?” your voice broke through every thought in his head and silenced them. You. You. Home. Safe. 

He didn’t care that he was sweaty. He didn’t care that he had media duties. He wrapped his arms around you, and for the first time in weeks, he finally relaxed. “You’re here,” he whispered like it wasn’t true. You chuckled against his skin, nodding into his neck. 

“And I’ll be in Imola too,” you smiled brightly as his eyes went wide, his hands cradling your face like you could break at any second. “Got my leave approved.”

“That’s brilliant, schatje!” he smiled, and pulled you in for a kiss. 

Max wasn’t known for keeping his calm. He was a racer, he won, and he didn’t care how many times he got in someone’s way. 

You kept your calm no matter what. Cool, calm, collected. Calm enough to pull the trigger of a gun on a person and not have it faze you. Calm enough to date an F1 driver and keep him stable. Calm enough to be here tonight, and not make it a big deal that Max Verstappen was your fiancé. You were strong too. Tough. Sure of yourself. He liked it. 

That’s why he didn’t feel the need to intervene when he saw you being chatted up by some sleeze. He just smirked as the man inched closer, it was free entertainment for the night, which was always necessary at F1 events. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you reminded the man who had been hounding you for the past few minutes. Fiancé, if we’re getting technical, but Max rarely did. 

Charles flashed him a smirk. “Going to go over there?” he questioned. 

Max shrugged. “If it gets boring,” he chuckled. “She can hold her own.”

“She’s scary,” Lando admitted. “First time I talked to her she threatened to break my arm.” 

“You were flirting with her,” Alex reminded him. “I remember how pissed Logan was.”

“Oh yeah!” Oscar laughed, nudging Logan (who was beside him). “And when you found out about Max and Y/n.”

“He went ballistic,” Lando laughed. “Almost killed his sister!” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan defended, but even Max gave him a look. “Ok, but it is shitty to go after someone’s sister!” 

The group continued laughing as Max listened back in on your conversation. 

“Oh yeah?” the guy smirked. Was it Tim, or Tom? Either way, he was a dick. “I don’t see him.”

“Now you do,” Max interrupted, wrapping an arm around your waist and smiling in a polite ‘fuck off’ way. The man chuckled. He was some NFL player. “Have a good night-”

“Let the pretty lady decide for herself, thank you very much,” he smirked. You gagged. 

“I chose him,” you deadpanned. 

“You’re in McLaren merch,” he pointed out, flicking at the hat on your head. You felt Max stiffen beside you, you could tell he was holding himself back from a fist fight. As much as this guy deserved it, Max was no MMA fighter, and you didn’t really want to be the reason he got his shit rocked. 

“Yeah, my mate drives for them,” you shrugged. “Do we have a problem here?” you demanded. “Because if we do we can talk about it.”

“No problem sweetheart, just don’t know if he understands how to be with a real woman such as yourself. I don’t see you at many races-”

“No, you don’t. Usually because I’m fighting for your fucking freedom you ungrateful asshole,” you scoffed, flashing your military ID card. The colour drained from the guy’s face and, before he could speak again Max whisked you away and back to the table with the rest of the guys.  He watched as you joked and laughed with them, happy you were there in front of him. He couldn’t ask for much more. You were safe.

You were here.

navigation for my blog :)

redbull & vcarb masterlist

[ddlydevotion]

OUR DAY WILL COME ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Being Bo Chow’s Wife headcanons…

a/n: this was written with a black fem reader in mind (this is a little self indulgent lol) but anybody can read & enjoy this! I’m not strictly a Sinners blog so I won’t be writing for these characters all the time. Also, the backstory was inspired by @nothanksofficer, so go check them out 💌!!

Currently listening to: We’ll Be United by The Intruders

You cannot tell me that this man doesn't teach you how to string together sentences in Mandarin (if you don't already speak it). It'd start with him having sweet little nicknames for you in his native tongue, then you'd get curious & end up wanting him to teach you what he knows.

Many of the nicknames he has for you derive from your characteristics & personality. I'm really set on the fact that he'd call you 'little sweetheart' in Mandarin. It's also quite obvious if you've seen the movie that he'd call you baby. Imagine this man calling you baby/sweetheart/honey in that smoky southern accent...I need to be put down.

You were known in town as the girl to go to if somebody needed artistic or creative direction in whatever they were working on. That lady down the street needs help patching up a dress? You'd show up with your sewing kit ready to go. The owner of a local bakery needs assistance painting over some stubborn stains? You'd be there with your very own paint, gloves, brushes, and a little stool for you to stand on. That's how you and Bo met in the first place. He was in desperate search for somebody that'd be able to help him produce a sign for his store. Every time he'd ask somebody if they knew anyone who could assist him in such a task, they'd reply with your name and nod their head towards your studio.

and by God, were you gorgeous. Bo stumbled over his words for a good ten seconds before pausing and finally spitting out "uh d'ya think ya could help me with a sign? I heard ya paint and do all sorts of things and uh- it's for my store." He was nervous but he'd be damned if he screwed up his first impression and ruined all his chances of working with you in the future. But, you simply flashed a sweet smile his way and graced him with an enthusiastic "of course! Whaddya have in mind?"

he loves eating pussy. send!

he’s very very handsy when he’s eating you out. One of his hands is always kneading and pinching your tits, savoring your sweet little sounds before trailing down to settle his hand on your tummy. He wraps his strong arms around your aching thighs, anchoring your hips down to the bed.

What he had in mind was him getting his act together so he could see that sweet little smile of yours every single day & night.

Bo definitely wants to have at least one baby with you. He's brought it up many times when the two of you are laying in bed together, skin-to-skin, after he's worn you out. He'll trace your plush hips n torso with his fingers, racking his eyes up the body that he adores oh so much before saying "I think we should go again, hm? Just to make sure it really sticks."

This man is suave he knows exactly how to flirt with you and what it takes to get you going. He doesn't lay it on thick (unless it takes you a while to understand he's flirting), he's slow with his touch and intentional with his words. Sorta like a game of cat and mouse.

Gives amazing massages. He'd definitely be the type to plop your sore feet onto his lap after a long day of walking around and start rubbing them.

"Does that feel good? Oh, I bet it does. You're real tense, baby."

He is a monster when it comes to eye contact and he'd do it even more if you're quick to get shy. He uses your flustered state to his advantage and gets you to finally look at him by placing a hand on your chin & tilting your head in his direction.

"y'know you can look at me right, ya don't gotta be all shy. Such a pretty lil thing, aint'cha?"

His proposal was one of the sweetest things you ever witnessed. You couldn't contain the gasp that left your mouth at the sight of him getting down on one knee. He went on to list all of his favorite things about you, your sweetness, compassionate nature, the protectiveness you harbor for the things you cherish. He recited his favorite moments that the two of you have shared, how he loves when your nose scrunches up when something is too sweet, how you bite your lip when you're concentrating, how you can't help but close your eyes and smile when your favorite song comes on.

"and I just knew from the very first moment I saw ya, baby, that you were the girl I wanted to settle down with. I wanted to bring you to meet my mom an' dad, buy ya a house, give you my baby if you'd let me, everything -anything you wanted, I wanted to give it to ya. and that's exactly what i'ma do, baby. All ya gotta do is say yes."

He undoubtedly got misty eyed seeing you walk down the aisle. Your wedding photos look a lot like the ones below (I know these aren’t time accurate let me have fun):

Bo is most definitely the type of man to hand feed his woman. Whenever the two of you are working on dinner together, he’ll hold a spoon up to your mouth so that you can have a taste of what he’s fixing up.

I’ll be posting a part two soon so let me know if you’d like to be tagged once it’s finished 💌🌷.

[sparrows4bats]

If Jon falls first, he would be so awkward at first. But the moment Damian reciprocates or shows any sign of feeling the same? All restraint is gone. Jon Kent is a simp and not afraid to let anyone know. He is gonna prove to Damian Wayne that not only is he an amazing boyfriend but he will be an even better husband.

He is giddy. Everything Damian does makes him blush and stutter. It's not just because Damian is cool and smart and handsome. He is all of those things, a degree of gorgeous and competent that leaves Jon in awe.

But he realises he likes Damian when they are arguing, and no matter how angry Jon gets, Damian never flinches at his red eyes. He never wonders for a moment if Jon will hurt him. Because Damian Trusts Him.

Jon thinks it may be a crush when Damian protects him after he is sent flying into a building during a mission, and Jon knows that even if he is Superman, Damian will always see him as Jonathan Kent.

Jon realises he is in love with Damian because of how kind he is, watching him with Lizzie and his pets. Even though Jon knows how hard it can be for him sometimes. It makes his chest ache with sweetness.

He decides to do something about it after he notices he's not the only one who has noticed how amazing Damian is. Kids at school, people at galas, and even other heroes look at his Robin like he's something they can have. It's unacceptable.

So he asks his Dad for help, and Clark explains some of how he convinced Lois Lane to marry him. (Clark Kent still considers it the best and hardest thing he has ever done. It doesn't stop him from laughing at his son for 10 solid minutes when he tells him. Bruce is going to be soooo pissed when Jon succeeds. It'll be hilarious)

Jon starts small. He invites Damian on missions and listens for any animal related emergencies Robin can come to. His Dad helps by distracting Batman while Jon sneaks into the Manor. (Clark trusts his son to call if he needs help, not that he would ever willingly put Damian in any real danger) Damian is confused by his change in behaviour but is happy to come along.

After long missions, Jon invites him to stay the night with him at his apartment or the farm. He delights in Damian wearing his clothes and being all sleepy and vulnerable. They share his bed, and Jon wakes up to Damian asleep on his chest. (Jon wants to wake up like this forever.)

So Jon starts to touch Damian more outside of half conscious cuddling. He hangs around his personal space like a cloud. Jon had thought Damian would hate it, but he accepted the closeness with ease. In fact, he melts. He doesn't hug back as tightly but leans on Jon in a way that makes Jon feel stronger than his powers ever have.

Next, he starts to do little things for him, like drop off coffee, and when Damian starts working to become a doctor, Jon makes sure he eats and sleeps between studying. Jon doesn't take in much information during Damians' study sessions, too focused on how Damians nose scrunches when he's concentrating, and how he blushes whenever Jon praises him.

Jon starts giving Damian little gifts; trinkets from wherever he travels, and pretty daggers he finds thanks to Diana. Damian receives each one with a smile and soon starts giving Jon gifts, too. Pieces of art he drew or food he finds in Gotham that he thinks Jon might enjoy. (Each drawing and painting is carefully framed in heat vision proof glass.)

Surprisingly, It's Damian who kisses him first. After Jon gives him a kitten that Clark saved from a tree. (Bruce said Damian couldn't adopt any more pets he said nothing about accepting them as gifts). The kiss is soft but full of passion, and Jon can't help but deepen it.

"I love you." Jon tells him when they pull back to breathe.

"Good, because if we do this, I couldn't bear it if you left me."

"Never, I'd fight the world to stay with you."

"And I'd defeat death to keep you at my side, Habibi." Jon kisses him again because he finally can. (Damian is even more handsome when he is under him, and Jon sends a silent thank you to whatever God is listening for letting him see it.)

(Clark was right, Bruce was pissed when he found Jon naked in Damians bed the next morning.)

Damian names the cat Clark after his future father in law. (Bruce will get his revenge, he swears, on BOTH Supers.)

[namjooningera]

If LADS were Yanderes ♡

Characters: Zayne, Caleb, Sylus

AN: I guess I’m gonna start doing LADS content? Here’s some basicslly soft yan lad boys. Request if y’all want more (^^)

Warnings: soft yandere things, mentions of stalking. Mentions of smut in Zaynes; overstim, brat tamer zayne, shower sex. Caleb is lowkey manipulative. Not proofread

Sylus:

♡ He values your independence, however that doesn’t exactly stop him from making sure your always just a step away from him- he’s right there if you need him

♡ he always just happens to be in the area when you are. Oh you’re fighting a wanderer right now? On a mission? He’s right beside you! Plus, the faster you two finish the mission tne faster he can get you on a date with him, spending tne rest of the day together!

♡ He most obviously hates things in the way of y’all’s relationship, little pests in the way. And you never really realize when they disappear, when he comes home with just a little blood on his collar, his hands a little grimier, his eyes sharper and that smirk hanging off his lips.

♡ has a certain obsession with buying you pretty things. Little trinkets here and there because he’s a dragon. And no, of course they don’t have tiny cameras in them! He already has just Mephisto watching you- right? Just Mephisto?

♡ No, he doesn’t get jealous. He gets territorial. You two are together- bound. So who does this guy think he is? Hitting on you in broad daylight? Your little coworker. It doesn’t matter though, because the very next day you find their desk cleaned out!

♡ Sylus who watches as you see other men. Your coworker, doctor, childhood friend… he just watched and laughs. Do you truly think any of them can actually be as good as he is? Sylus is confident that once you have him, you won’t need anyone else. It’s why he lets you keep your little guy friends, because at the end of the day, he’s confident that if they became a real threat, he’d barely have to lift a finger to get rid of them.

♡ Sylus who’s extremly clingy. You find him to be.. everywhere. He’s always “in the neighborhood”, in front of your work, at your favorite cafes, he’s just.. around. And when you finally do call him to you, instead of letting him pop up to you instead, it’s like he’s in a buzzer radius, showing up to you immediately.

♡ He’s so clingy that he’ll even show up to your missions! And of course you’re confused, because what kind of “business” does Sylus have four hours away from home? And all of a sudden the hotel you booked is completely full and your sharing a room with Sylus?

♡ Even with these acts that are becoming too coincidental, his act is so cool and collected you, for the most part, believe him when he says he had “business” in these parts, or he just happened to stop by your home, because you forgot something at his base. And hey thats funny, he has your necklace in his hand. You don’t ever remember taking it off in the first place.

♡ Had photos of you- everywhere. His wallet, his nightstand, on his desk. He’s just so adorned by you!

♡ Finally, after all that quality time together- he’s elated when you finally start going out together!

♡ Of course, this is when bit by bit, his obsession starts to show more and more. Except.. it’s weird. You like it? Maybe it’s because he’s grown on you, spending so much time together you like the pest that’s Sylus- attached to your hip!

♡ So when he does suspicious things, like when the waiter hits on you- and all of a sudden Sylus needs to use the restroom, and comes back with the slightest drop of blood on his collarbone- you don’t blink. When your mean supervisor humiliates you, all of a sudden they’re demoted to the worst branch and bruised- you shrug. When you see your ex- the one whos always pestering you- in Sylus’ base one day, bloodied and tortured- you look the other way. Why? Because what you don’t know won’t hurt you. And after all, your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe.

Zayne-

♡ Zayne, your sweet childhood friend, you’re sure can’t hurt a fly. After all, he’s a doctor! He took an oath.

♡ Zayne is.. interesting to say the least. As you grew up together, you saw him as this sweet but timid boy. He had his nice moments, but most of the time you mistook his actions for mean ones because of his attitude- even when he meant the nicest things.

♡ It was almost.. annoying, knowing Caleb was always there with you. When Zayne you two were young, and he noticed your shoes were untied, letting you know so that he can get on his knees and tie them for you- just for little Prince Charming Caleb to swoop in and kneel on his knees, tying bunny knots on your cute pastel shoes.

♡ He needed.. new ways to get your attention. And Zayne was smart, he was sure he could find ways to do exactly that. He’d make snow figurines for you, trying to entice young you, so that perhaps for playtime- you’d choose him, not run to Caleb. And finally, when you do, when you tell Zayne he needs to be the dad when playing house, and you’ll be the mom- and Caleb will be the dog- everything is just.. perfect. Young him is elated. Plus he notices young, you’d be the perfect partner! So adorable and sweet, with your apple cheeks and gummy smile, he’s fallen head over heels.

♡ But you’ve grown up now, and you’re still with… him. Caleb. Even the words on his tongue die out as he feels gross just thinking about him. He’s never especially had anything against the guy- Caleb isn’t a bad person. It’s just that with you- his blood sizzles. The attention Caleb gives you, is so much more then an adoptive brother or childhood friend, his arm hung around your shoulder constantly, bickering with you and you two being in each others possession for several years.

♡ He’s scared that leaving for university will just cause you two to become even closer- but Zayne needs to. He disappears- with the thought of you still in his mind as he studies viciously.

♡ And finally, he’s back in town. As your health care provider, your primary physician

♡ And then there’s the incident. Caleb’s gone. And you need a shoulder to lean on. That’s okay, Zayne has done lots of study on psychology, he’s sure he can be your personal therapist if needed too. Or he can just be your close friend, who lets you cry in his shoulder or rant away, it doesn’t matter. He just wants you to know he’s here.

♡ And no! Caleb was his friend- he’s not happy that he’s gone! He’s just relieved. And soon it’s like a bridge has been built between you two, there’s no annoying wall separating you guys, and you finally choose him first every time.

♡ He’s also the type to coincidentally show up everywhere you go. He’s always at Akso when you need him- but somehow he’s always at the missions you go to as well? Showing up just perfectly timed at the train station where you are, for your timely three hour trip up north. Though with his aloof manor, you never really do get reasoning for why he’s always around, and most of the time you don’t care to ask. It’s nice to have your best friend with you, right?

♡ Zayne who huffs and puffs with an attitude when you call him your “best friend” to some people while out on a mission- him just tagging alone of course. For the rest of the day he’s silent, stubborn, staring out the window of the train and giving you curt nods and shrugs when you poke at him and try and prod- whys he acting so weird?

♡ You decide that perhaps he’s hungry- or he’s been depraved of sweets for too long. So you drag him to some cafe and sit him down to eat. He contently eats his tiramisu, forgetting that there’s a small percentage of alcohol in it.

♡ Zayne who whines in your arms as you drag him to your hotel room. You think this is your fault, you bought him the tiramisu after all! It’s only fair you take care of him. But all of a sudden he’s confessing to things.. thoughts.

♡ He confesses how he thinks your blouse shows too much of your cleavage, that while you walked him, he was looking down it the whole time. He confesses that at this point you might be the only woman he talks to, the only one he ever needs anyways. He confesses that he holds a grudge against you- for calling him something so ridiculous- a friend. That he wants you, wants to kiss your cute lips and memorize every part of you. To beat up the little prick who stared at you the whole train ride, to replace Caleb, To be able to hold you without precautions, to kiss you and be with you, to be in your skin- in your lungs.

♡ Nonetheless, he passes out anyways. And when he wakes up, he’s mortified. He confessed? What’s wrong with him? Your disgusted surely, by his reckless behavior, how he’s thought of you so crudely since you were small- wait so why are you sleeping next to him?

♡ his eyes travel up to your sleeping face, and he feels so many emotions all at once. You stayed. You slept next to him! You’re even holding his hand! So you aren’t disgusted? Do you perhaps.. feel similarly for him? Why else would you stay? He’s elated waiting for you to awake, watching your sleepy face while a smile adorns his.

♡ You two finally date, and he thinks he might be the happiest person alive. This is also when he starts to let go of his inner worries. After all, Zayne is a smart man, self aware. So he knew his more.. dangerous thoughts, should be contained. So why were you always pushing him? Teasing him? He felt.. on edge. It’s like you knew he had another side to him, something you were curious to see. Is that why you were flirting with that guy? That tipsy man at that dingy bar? You said you were out on a girls night so how come he caught you taking to that man?

♡ Zayne watches from afar. He knew your friends wanted to go to some bar, and yes, he trusts you, but he doesn’t exactly trust your friends. But know that trust unravels- why are you sliding your hand agains that man’s arm? Or letting him talk that closely to you? Are you testing him? Do you know Zaynes here? Or are you actually about to.. cheat..?

♡ And then that man simply touches a strand of your hair, twisting it in his fingers- and Zayne loses it. He practically stomps over- and his fist directly aligns with the man’s face, knocking him over, ice even shedding off of Zaynes knuckles. He turns to you, and with eyes you’ve ever seen from him before- dark and terrifying, primal even. He grabs your hand and your dragged out of there.

♡ Your shaking as he basically throws you into the car, buckling you in like a child, as if you didn’t know how. The whole ride home is silent, and you think “this is him, this is Zayne”.

♡ When you get home your pushed into the bathroom where Zayne strips the two of you to get into the shower, where he demands he cleans you of any filth that has accumulated on you from those pesky men.

♡ As zaynes hands glide soap of your body, rubbing it in and his scowl is deep on his, you try to explain to him you weren’t cheating- that you knew he was there. You wanted to see if Zayne.. would do anything. It was just something stupid the girls you were friends with convinced you to do when you recognized Zayne at the bar. And yes, were. You really think Zayne will let you keep those friends?

♡ “test me? Really? Do you have no faith in me as your partner?” He spits out, his hands deeply massaging the soap into your hips. “You think because I let you get away with a brat so often, I’ll let you go now?”

♡ Washing you is long forgotten when the two of you are fucking like bunnies, and your crying into his shoulder as you cum for the third time, the water still cascading down your bodies. Finishing once when he ate you out, a second on his fingers, and now a third on his cock. You whine that your tired and you understand what you did was wrong, that your sorry, even though your not really sorry, you wanted to see that side of him, he still bullies his cock into your hole, growling into your ear and keeping you pinned to the shower wall.

♡ he watches you sleep peacefully, which makes sense- you came so many times, that by the end you were shaking and crying, overstimulation hitting your body as you enter sub space and the brat in you broken. Alas, he still loves you, tending to you and making sure your perfectly comfortable before you finally rest.

♡ He’s glad that you saw this side of him, like a weight has been lifted. Even though you’ve only seen just a small percent of it, his guilt is completely gone. It’s why it’s so easy for him to now go find that man who touched you and get rid of him for good! It wouldn’t be the first time anyway.

Caleb-

♡ Caleb, your sweet childhood best friend, you can even go as call yourselves childhood sweethearts. He’s been there for you forever, for as long as you’ve both known.

♡ The yandere Caleb whos just a bit too close to you. When you were kids it was fine. Taking baths together, playing with each other, running to find each other during recess, benign possessive over each other and always clinging to one another. But now it gets weird.

♡ After all, you want your space! You’re grown, and you have friends other than him. Plus you want a romantic life! He’s been scaring away boys and girls from you your whole life, you had to sneak away from him at one point just to have your first kiss!

♡ Caleb whos head is screwed on loose when he finds out that you in fact didn’t go on a sleepover with your girl-friends, but we’re at instead a club with them.

♡ You’re dolled up and drinking, even wearing a dress he’s never bought you! He’s furious, but more saddened than anything. If he had puppy ears they’d flatten against his head and he’d let out a little whimper. Was he not enough for you? So you had to go find entertainment somewhere else? He’s been with you forever. So are you bored now?

♡ Suddenly his sadness turns into anger, but no, he’ll wait. Calculated, he watches you. He watches as you drink, as you speak with your friends, and as a boy approaches you. He buys you a drink, a cheap one Caleb thinks, and finally the boy leads you to a hotel room.

♡ It’s devastating to watch you follow him to his room, with your naive eyes looking him up and down, the eyes that should only see Caleb.

♡ Caleb goes home however, when his job is done. When his calculated colonial strategy takes over and he’s back to his preppy self, sitting back on your sofa as if he hasn’t shed blood.

♡ You come home, disheveled. You looked like you cried, your makeup down in streaks as you rub at your eyes pathetically. You crawl into a Caleb’s arms as he lays on the sofa, whining and ranting and confessing about how you lied.

♡ How you went to a club instead of a sleepover, so you could meet someone. However, when he sits you down on his hotel bed, he got a call. Leaving the room and coming back just to yell at you to leave! He looks disheveled himself, nervous even, twitchy eyes and body shaking as he screams at you. However your too distraught to notice as you scramble to leave the room, fighting tears at being rejected.

♡ Caleb shushes you, telling you thats just how men are, that’s just how people out there are. He would never do that to you, he would never say no to you, ever.

♡ He cuddles you on the sofa, kissing your apple cheeks and wiping the tears that still decide to make its way down your face. He rubs your back as he tells you it’s not your fault, it’s really not, Caleb had his fun making death threats to the boy, He lets you however whine and rant until you fall asleep. Then he’s carrying you to your bedroom, wiping your ruined makeup with a makeup wipe and going as far at strip you and put you into some comfortable pajamas. His eyes look away as he changes you, but it doesn’t stop him from taking a peak at your cute bra.

♡ He cuddles you into bed, kissing your forehead and watching you as you sleep. You’d never know that the boy who “rejected” you, is currently in a pool of acid. Why should you know? He is wants to keep you naive of his actions for as long as possible. He wants to be your sweet Caleb, the one whos basically a puppy to you, clingy and teasing, always by your side.

♡ It doesn’t matter that this wasn’t the first time he’s done something like this. One day you’ll realize it’s for your own good, and that it’ll just be the two of you forever, just as you were born to do.

[ivorivet]

Fellowship Cloak Weaving Draft

Hi all! I've been kind of quiet on this blog, but I have something really exciting to share today: after six years, I FINALLY figured out the weaving draft for the Fellowship cloaks from Lord of the Rings.

This is a problem I've been trying to figure out since shortly after I made my Legolas cosplay in 2018. The cloaks that the nine members of the Fellowship receive in Lothlórien look like a nondescript gray fabric from far away, but zoom in and you'll see a very complex pattern of horizontal and vertical bars of dark gray and white.

(First image from Alleycatscratch, second is a photo of the scarf of the same fabric I bought from Stansborough where I was attempting to trace the pattern repeat with orange thread)

This is going to be a long post, so I'm just going to lead with the completed draft:

Imagine me Will Smith wife posing at this for the last 24 hours.

It's got the correct size of pattern repeat! It's got the five individual ripples! It's got that dumb little pattern break in the middle that breaks up the center of the leaf motif! I am OVER THE MOON about figuring this out, especially starting out with very little knowledge about weaving drafts in general. More ramblings about this type of draft and my thought process below:

This particular pattern is known as "shadow weave," a subset of color-and-weave where the pattern is created from the interplay of different warp and weft colors plus the weaving draft itself. To get an idea of how that works, let's start by looking at plain weave in one color:

The solid purple bar at the top indicates the color of the warp threads, and the solid purple bar at the right indicates the color of the weft threads. So far we've got our basic under-over-under-over pattern in a single, solid color (purple). But what if we add an additional color (green) to the warp, and alternate those colors? Then we'd get a speckled fabric like this:

The visual effect looks pretty much identical regardless of if you start with green or purple. However, if you also alternate purple and green in the weft, it produces a very different effect depending on if you start with purple or green (note the differences in the bar on the right):

So cool, now we can make either vertical or horizontal stripes! If you double up on the colored threads in some areas, you can even flip between the two and start dividing the fabric into "blocks," like so:

Note that with all these changes, the only thing we've been doing is changing the order of the colors in the warp and weft. The actual weave structure itself is still just regular ol' plain weave. The pattern that we've created in the pictures above is called "log cabin," which you can read about here. But similar effects can be created by skipping shafts/picks in the weaving draft as well. So how do we get from log cabin into the more complicated and general category of shadow weave?

It's weird to describe how to convert a given pattern into shadow weave. There are multiple very good books with chapters on shadow weave as well as books entirely dedicated to it. Despite my best efforts, all these explanations still got so technical so fast it feels like, to me at least, asking a 6 year old to recite an entire Shakespeare play verbatim immediately after confirming that they can, in fact, sing the alphabet song. So I'm going to give my best shot at explaining it, and if it doesn't make sense, just blame it on me and check out some of the linked books above if you're really curious.

Think of shadow weave as a beauty filter for a black and white drawing. If you create a pattern out of black and white blocks/pixels/whatever, the shadow weave "filter" can be applied to it to create a similar pattern that preserves the shapes in the original, but makes them out of vertical/horizontal lines instead of solid color blocks. So in some of these books you'll find mention of converting a twill or an overshot pattern into shadow weave - that's what this is referencing. The original pattern (usually designated with light yarn) gets a secondary shadow pattern (in dark yarn) inserted into in between every other thread (also called an "end" when referencing warp yarns).

I got stuck at this point for literal years. I could find examples of weaving drafts using shadow weave, but couldn't figure out how to generate ones of my own. I imported some of the drafts I found in books into weaving software and poked around to see if I could push the patterns in the direction I wanted by changing individual elements. My experiments in changing individual warp ends and weft picks always ended up looking like stretched or compressed versions of the original pattern (when I was being careful), or incomprehensible garbage (when I was being daring). I even bought a sample of the fabric from Stansborough in the form of a scarf, thinking I could brute force it by using a magnifying glass to figure out the interlacements. I was able to figure out how large the pattern repeat was (approximately 160 x 80 ends), but otherwise I got nothing but eye strain. I ended up tabling the project and coming back to it every couple years, banging my head against it until I gave up.

Until one day last week when I was flipping through the Strickler book and saw this page:

And I was like

HOLD UP

IT'S HER

...or at least a close cousin of her. BUT IT WAS A START.

So the first step was to identify what about this pattern needed to change in order to make this look like the Fellowship cloak. Overall, the main differences were:

Pattern repeat on Strickler 304 was too small - it was 42 x 42 ends and I needed it to be somewhere in the ballpark of 80 x 80 before altering the repeat.

The Fellowship pattern has a weird vertical dividing line that runs down the middle of the leaf motif, effectively doubling the width of the repeat by creating two similar looking but different leaves. This was the change I was least concerned about, as flipping between vertical and horizontal lines is pretty a straightforward process as shown above with the log cabin draft.

Strickler 304 also has a different number of waves (peaks and valleys, or whatever you want to call them) compared to the Fellowship pattern. There are 3 waves in Strickler and 5 in Fellowship. Figuring out how to add these extra waves was the biggest obstacle for me to address.

And finally, a couple of things I didn't need to care about for the weaving draft: 1) the Fellowship pattern is elongated in the warp direction, but this has more to do with a little extra spacing between weft picks as compared to the warp threads. When weaving this you'd just need to make sure you don't beat it very hard and you'll get that tall rectangle shape instead of a square repeat. 2) Both patterns have mirrored symmetry around a diagonal line drawn through the center, meaning that for treadling I could "tromp as writ" or basically just mirror the threading diagram to get the treadling instructions. For reasons I can't figure out, the Strickler pattern isn't exactly tromp as writ but looks close enough to it that the effect is still there. But I don't really care enough to figure out why - the important thing is that it gives us a threading diagram to start with!

So to start with, here's what Strickler 304 looks like in my weaving software:

(By the way, this is Fiberworks PCW Bronze. The trial version is free, and the only difference between that and the paid version is that the save/print options are disabled. I'm not sure they know about screenshots, bless their hearts.)

This is a design for 8 shafts and 8 treadles, thus the 8x8 square in the upper right corner. And you can see in the threading diagram (upper horizontal bar) and treadling diagram (right bar) that the curvature of the waves takes a similar shape to the curves of the final pattern. We just have to figure out why. And since I had already tried changing individual warp ends and treadling patterns without much success, I needed to approach in a different way.

What ended up helping me see the forest for the trees was de-shadowifying the pattern. It's relatively easy to get the black-and-white version of the pattern from the threading draft - you just need to delete the shadow, which means removing every other warp end. This is what deleting all the dark ends from the warp and light ends from the weft looks like:

We can also see with a little more detail how the threading diagram is similar to the curve in the pattern. The pattern is 21 pixels tall, but it's been chopped up to repeat over 8 shafts, like so:

OKAY COOL COOL COOL. EVERYTHING'S COMIN' UP MILHOUSE IVORIVET. From this green squiggly line we know two things:

The final number of warp ends in the shadow weave pattern is double whatever the height of the squiggle is. In the case of the Strickler pattern, we're going from 21 to 42. Since we know that we need our final height for the Fellowship pattern needs to be 80, the squiggle for that pattern needs to be around 40 pixels tall.

We needed to stitch three repeats of the Strickler threading diagram together in order to see the full squiggle. How many waves does the Strickler pattern have? Three. How many waves does the Fellowship pattern need? Five. How many shafts do we have to work on? Eight. What is 5 x 8? 40!!!

So how about we make a NEW squiggle, only 40 pixels high instead of 21? (We're gonna drop the pixels in blue, since threading diagrams won't work if you put a single end through two shafts.)

Next, we're going to chop up that squiggle and use it to create a new threading diagram in Fiberworks. I'm also using "tromp as writ" here to create the treadling pattern.

LOOK AT THAT. IT'S GOT MORE WAVES!! FIVE OF THEM!

And then we add back in the shadow by creating a space for a new end between each existing end:

And then add in the shadow. I'm using 4 as my number for the shadow offset since we're using 8 shafts. So shaft 1 shadows to shaft 5, shaft 2 shadows to shaft 6, etc.

And we're going to apply tromp as writ again to get:

AYYYYYY WE'RE GETTING CLOSE! I'm fairly certain that the reason why the Strickler treadling wasn't exactly tromp as writ had something to do with centering the pattern repeat a little more than this, but I don't really care about that so I'm going to leave this treadling the way that it is.

From here out, we need at add that weird vertical dividing line that chops up the center of the leaves. So we double the pattern repeat along the horizontal axis, and offset a 40 pixel section in the middle of the threading diagram by 1 pixel. I've also colored in the differences between the dark and light ends to help differentiate the original and shadowed curves a little bit more. (I also tried offsetting the colors of the warp ends by 1 as well like what we did in the log cabin example, but I ended up liking the way that this looked more.)

THERE SHE IS!!! MY PRECIOUS!!

From here on out, there is still a ton of work I need to do if I actually want to weave this cloak from scratch. I did buy roving in quantities that could be used to spin both the dark and light yarn (dark gray Gotland for the dark yarn, and dove gray merino + white alpaca for the light yarn), but there's still the matter of, like, handspinning a cloak's quantity of extremely fine yarn. I did start spinning the Gotland several years ago as fine as I could possibly manage, and got through maybe 20 ounces of it. However, I'm a much better spinner now and I'm not sure if the my skeins from several years ago would be suitable for weaving, or if it would be worth replicating what I did back then vs. just starting over with a new standard. There's also the possibility of just... buying weaving yarn if I want to skip that step, which would definitely save me a significant amount of time.

Anyway, thanks for reading this far and I hope it helped break down why this was so exciting for me!

[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

saw you were looking for requests!!

ive been thinking of how lando would be sooo gentle with a reader who hasnt ever been loved properly like he would absolutely spoil her till the end of the world even if she refused

like he'd get her favorite flowers and take photos of her all the time and tell her he loves her 24/7

omg yes, I love this! He would be so sweet and caring without even thinking about it! I wrote this pretty quick, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

Like You Deserve

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft Romance Warnings: Mentions of past emotional neglect, low self-worth, crying, healthy relationship dynamics, tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: ~1200 Summary: You’ve never been loved like this. Not gently. Not completely. Not without strings or apologies. But Lando? Lando loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world — and slowly, impossibly, you begin to let him.

Masterlist

The first time you cried in front of Lando, it was over something stupid.

At least, that’s what you told him.

It had been a long day. One of those heavy, dragging ones where everything feels just slightly off. You got the wrong coffee order. Your boss snapped at you. Someone bumped into you on the train and didn’t say sorry. Nothing huge, nothing tragic — just little paper cuts you’d bled from quietly.

And then you got home, and there they were.

Peonies. Your favorite.

A bouquet in your favorite color, sitting in a glass vase on the kitchen counter. No note. No announcement. Just waiting.

You stared at them like they might disappear if you blinked.

And when Lando came in from the other room — curls damp from a shower, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows — and smiled at you like you mattered, you burst into tears.

He crossed the room in seconds. “Hey—hey, love, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Covered your face. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. You didn’t want to need this as badly as you did.

But he didn’t get frustrated. He didn’t sigh, or say you were being dramatic, or ask if you were hormonal.

He just wrapped his arms around you, warm and firm, and said softly:

“I’ll get you flowers every day if it means you cry like this less.”

You laughed — wet and broken — into his chest.

You’d never been loved like this before.

Not gently.

Not without earning it first.

You try not to talk about your past much. It’s messy. It makes people uncomfortable.

But Lando notices things.

He notices how you flinch a little when he raises his voice — even if it’s just from laughing too loudly.

He notices how you apologize three times for interrupting him, even when you didn’t.

He notices how you never ask him for help, even when you’re clearly overwhelmed.

And worst of all, he notices how surprised you look every time he does something thoughtful.

“Stop acting like I brought you the moon,” he says once, when you gasp at the takeout he brought after your long shift.

You smile tightly. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

“To being fed?”

“To being… seen.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look away.

Instead, he cups your jaw, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Then get used to it, love. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts taking photos of you when you’re not looking.

You notice it one morning, scrolling through his phone while he’s in the shower. A whole album labeled with your initials — filled with candids.

You sipping coffee on the balcony. You in one of his hoodies, asleep on the couch. You laughing at something off-camera, head thrown back, eyes bright.

You look beautiful in all of them.

You don't recognize yourself.

When he comes back in, towel around his shoulders, he sees you looking.

Your voice is small. “You keep pictures of me?”

Lando blinks, confused. “Course I do.”

You set the phone down like it might burn you. “I just… no one’s ever done that before.”

He crosses the room. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Then they were idiots.”

One night, weeks later, you break.

Not in the loud, dramatic way. Not like glass shattering. More like a hairline crack that finally gives way under pressure.

You’re lying in bed, curled into his side, his fingers playing absentmindedly with yours. Everything should feel perfect. Safe.

And still, you ask:

“Why do you love me?”

Lando’s hand stills.

You almost wish you could swallow the question back down. But it’s out there now. Ugly and trembling and raw.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Forget I said anything.”

“No,” he says, firm. “Don’t do that.”

You can’t look at him. “I just don’t get it. I’m a mess. I’m anxious. I second-guess everything. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be—”

“Stop.”

His voice is low, but not angry. Just steady.

He tilts your chin so you have to meet his eyes.

“I don’t love you in spite of those things. I love you because of who you are.”

You blink, throat tight.

“I love that you care too much. That you remember the name of every mechanic on my team. That you leave me little notes when I travel. That you’re still soft after everything life’s thrown at you.” He swallows. “I love you. Full stop. No conditions. No fine print.”

You’re crying again.

This time, you don’t try to hide it.

And when he kisses you, slow and reverent, you let yourself believe — just for a second — that maybe you’re not too hard to love after all.

You stop apologizing so much.

You start texting him first.

You let him buy you flowers without flinching.

You even let him take a photo of you on your bad hair day, after whining for a full ten minutes about how awful you look.

(He posts it anyway — captioned, “Cutest human alive, don’t fight me.”)

And when he tells you he loves you — casually, easily, every day — you finally start saying it back without fear.

Because he never makes you earn it.

Because he says it like it’s your name.

Because he means it.

Later that night, you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Lando’s car, the city lights flickering past like fireflies. His hoodie swallows you whole — sleeves too long, hood up, wrapped around you like a second skin — and your legs are folded beneath you, socked toes pressed to the leather seat.

The radio’s playing softly. Something nostalgic. His hand finds yours without looking.

He does that now — reaches for you without needing to think.

And you let him.

Your fingers settle into the spaces between his, perfectly matched. His thumb rubs gently across your knuckles, slow and soothing. You watch the motion like it might slip away if you blink.

“I think I’m starting to believe you,” you say after a long stretch of silence.

His eyes flick to you, quick and warm. “Believe what?”

“That you love me.”

The smile that blooms across his face isn’t wide or showy. It’s quiet. Soft. Reverent, almost. Like he’s been waiting to hear that from you.

“I’ve never said anything truer,” he murmurs.

You turn your head, studying him in the warm dashboard glow. One hand on the wheel. One hand in yours. The same boy who brings you flowers without a reason. Who kisses your shoulder in passing. Who sees you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, voice barely a breath.

Lando squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to do anything, love. You deserve it just by being you.”

You blink fast, throat catching. He doesn’t look away.

“Let me keep showing you, yeah?”

You nod, heart thudding hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in your entire life, you believe it.

A/N: i really loved writing this, felt very healing (I need therapy lmao) anyways please send me requests! I love reading yall's ideas! also feel free to ask me any questions if you want hehe :)

[sugarwarachan]

aizawa shouta: A—Z nsfw headcanons

andy's notes: here's to my favorite super-sleepy hero, and to the people on this app who are as obsessed with him as i am.

cws: smut nsfw, 18+, many many warnings lmao but some highlights: breeding, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, brat taming, dom/sub, masturbation, sex toys, Daddy/sir kink

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

One of the best at aftercare in terms of emotional check-ins. He’s rerouting your synapses every time you fuck, so he makes sure to bring you back down to earth gently. He always confirms with you that you liked everything (and if you didn’t, what to do next time) while holding you close and playing with your hair.

B = Body part (favorite body part, their own or their lover’s)

Ass. Man. 👏 Loves smacking it, laying on it, watching it jiggle when you walk or popped high in the air when you suck his cock.

On him? Probably his hands (mostly because you won’t stop drooling over them and begging him to choke off your air supply).

C = Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Big ol' breeding kink for this man, so expect him to cum inside you CONSTANTLY. He's also not big on masturbating, so when he cums, he cums a LOT.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory)

Loves to cum on your face. A part of him feels guilty, but the primal side of him wins out every time he sees his creamy seed all over your pretty lips.

E = Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

I don’t see him as much of a one-night stand kind of guy, but he’s had a few serious partners and learned what he likes.

F = Favorite position

Doggy or missionary. (He’s an old man and he likes what he likes.)

Doggy because he likes to manhandle your hips and ass while he's grunting into your cunt.

Missionary for the intimacy and the eye contact. He loves to say the nastiest shit while you looking you right in the eye.

G = Goofy (how serious are they)

He’s not cracking jokes by any means, but he loves to tease you and make you blush.

H = Hair (grooming habits)

Y'all, this dude is a MAN. Constant five-o-clock shadow that scratches at your inner thighs until he grows it out enough to be soft. Dark hair on his chest that tapers down to the yummiest happy trail. Well-maintained pubic hair. If he’s not dating someone, he’ll let it get a little crazy, but cleans it up as soon as he has someone.

I = Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He’s a mixture of both, and you never know what you’re gonna get *faints* You'll be in the middle of the filthiest fuck of your life, and Aizawa will randomly start telling you how beautiful you are and how much he wants to marry you.

J = Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

I don’t know why, but I do not see this man masturbating unless he’s as down bad as he can go. Like he feels insane because he’s twisting his cock like a teenager over you.

K = Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

I think he’s experimental and willing to discover kinks with you BUT his main ones: breeding, breath play, edging/overstimulation, brat taming, D/s, daddy/sir kink, somnophilia

L = Location (where they like to get it on)

Prefers to fuck you somewhere private.

Within your own home, though, any room is fair game. If he had to pick, he would say the bedroom first (he's a romantic), and the kitchen second (because of how many times he’s eaten you out on the counter).

M = Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Intelligence/competency. If you're really good at your job/super knowledgeable about a subject, he's grabbing the back of your neck and dragging you off to the bedroom.

Otherwise, he’s a pretty simple guy: lingerie, red lipstick, his old shirt... doesn't matter. He’s into YOU.

N = No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Don’t really see him being into pegging. no matter how much I might want this

O = Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He’s a giver!! Loves nothing more than making you go dumb on his tongue over and over again. He’s patient, too, so he always winds you up to the edge and holds you there until you’re wailing at him to let you cum.

When you return the favor, he’s the most appreciative motherfucker on earth. Raining praise on you about how well you suck his cock.

P = Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Strong, measured strokes. He doesn’t like to go fast unless he’s worked you up and you’re begging him to.

Q = Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

He doesn’t hate quickies but he certainly doesn’t love them.

R = Risk (do they like to try new things)

Depends on his partner. If you want to try new things, he's happy to oblige. But I don't think he would be disappointed if you weren't naturally willing to take risks or try new things all the time.

S = Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Okay, I love him, but he is tired. I think on a good day, he can do two or three rounds if you give him some time to recover, but he usually prefers one long session and a long cuddle after.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Definitely the type to see sex toys as an important addition to the bedroom and not as competition.

however

Say he's out on a mission and specifically tells you not to use your vibrator until he gets home... and you ignore that? expect to be denied your orgasm for hours

U = Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Literally all he has to do is rest his hand on your lower back and whisper into your ear that he wants to go home and you're ready for him.

V = Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

King of talking you through it. Once he finds out you like his voice, he uses it to his advantage (see above lmao). Can get you wet just by saying a few key phrases. Tends to grunt and groan during the act itself. Whimpers only when he’s really sensitive and you suckle the tip of his cock.

W = Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Maybe this is just me projecting, but CNC 🤭

X = X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

7 inches and girthy. Like you need prep every time kind of girthy. Nice little curve to the tip. Uncut.

Y = Yearning (sex drive level)

When he’s not in a relationship, it's almost nonexistent. The man has a lot of shit on his plate!

When he's in a relationship, though, his sex drive slowly builds back up and when you’re alone together, he's almost always touching you.

Z = Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He’s a tired man!!! He always makes sure you’re comfy and taken care of before he drops off, but once he does, he’s OUT.

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3 If you'd like to be added to my general taglist, let me know bbys!!

taglist: @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi

[bratbarzal]

How do you think Poppy and Luke's gf get along/hit it off when they first meet? Like what are the vibes, is it at a game? I'm assuming it would be after Cheeto is born?

written as a follow up to LIH and TSOU and including characters from OYS (none of which have to be read to enjoy this hopefully lmao) this is such a niche blurb but it's really sweet!! trust Luke to mess up the ending of tsou by getting surgery 😔😔 no more reader jumping into his arms 😔😔 let's pretend he catches her on one side so I don't have to think too much about it thanks 💕 also this ties into another blurb I have planned for their first date lmao but that will hopefully be done by the end of the month!! contains: fluff!!! in abundance!!! wc: 2.8k

"You know you're gonna have to let me get up at some point, right?"

You feel the vibrations of his words against your cheek before you fully register what Luke is saying, his neck warm against your temple as you rest against it, your body slung over his just enough that you're not crushing him.

"Don't have to do anything," you hum in defiance, lips moving against his skin as you hook your leg over his from above the sheets so he has no actual leverage to move away - like he would in the first place - and stretching your arm across the width of him, your fingertips tracing featherlight touches along his collarbone - careful to avoid his bad shoulder - until the arm on the side you're resting on curls as much as it can around your hip. "You're not the boss of me."

He snorts out a laugh that makes your chest feel tight, and you suppose he sees the irony in that statement just as much as you do - considering how you'd only just promised him when you'd both set off from Detroit yesterday that you'd be happy to play nurse for as long as he needs.

For as shitty as the timing of Luke's injury has been - missing out on the rest of the playoffs, and subsequently ruling himself out to play in the world championships - you've been reaping the benefits of the whole thing, entirely.

He'd somehow managed to schedule his surgery so that he could surprise you at your commencement - lying that he hadn't been fit to be discharged yet and showing up alongside Jack as you waited with Ellie for her to be able to see her boyfriend while you worried endlessly about your own.

And the two of you had disappeared together after the ceremony, spending the whole weekend holed up in your room at the sorority before you would have to clear it out. He had attempted to help you pack up the few things that remained, and had come with you to move what you couldn't ship home to your mom's place into storage with the promise that he'd help you sort through it when you came back in the summer to the lake house.

He hadn't been the best assistant, his arm all slinged up, and all, but you still liked having him around - even if it was just to be a pretty face and a warm body to cuddle into at the end of the day, too exhausted to do much else.

And then you flew out to Jersey with him to clear out his locker at the Rock away from the whole media circus, spending the week in his apartment with him while he dealt with some other business. It had never been the plan to come out here - but you wouldn't trade this time with him for anything.

The latter end of the season had been hectic for Luke, and you wrapping up with school had been just as bad - and finding time to fit in the tribulations of a new, long distance relationship was hard work, but the two of you got through everything, the worst of it behind you entirely.

And you've been enjoying playing house with him, away from everybody else - it's the first time you've really gotten the chance.

Ellie and Jack are back in Michigan, and Quinn left to go back at the same time Jack did. His parents are there, too - and your mom is where she always is, back in Chicago.

No sorority sisters, none of Luke's friends or his teammates, who have all dispersed back to their home states or countries.

It's just the two of you, and no responsibilities, and it's been incredible, even if it has only been a day, so far.

"We should probably get up and do something," he hums, "Feel like all I've done for the past week is sit around and watch you."

"Like that isn't your favourite thing to do," you scoff, leaning up and pressing your lips to his jaw, planting a soft kiss to the scratchy skin there and making a mental note to convince him to shave, later - maybe even offer to do it for him. Clinging on to the 6 hairs that remain from his attempt at a playoff beard is getting a little sad, unfortunately.

"You got me there," he smiles softly, and you kiss the curve of his lips, too, too pretty not to. "We could go watch a movie?" he mumbles against you, "Maybe grab food after,"

"Mmhm," you respond, too into kissing him over and over, the soft bump of his nose against yours the only thing to get you to part.

"There's a viewing for Thunderbolts in like an hour," he tells you, and you roll your eyes while biting back a laugh.

"I was ten seconds from climbing on top of you, and the only thing on your mind is showing times for Thunderbolts?"

"I can only avoid spoilers for so long, babe." He pouts, and you huff as you roll off of him.

"Such a dork," you mutter fondly to yourself as you push yourself off of the bed and watch his eyes trail down your figure as you stand. "I need to go get my bag out of the car," you tell him as you reach for the hoodie you had helped him shrug out of last night, and the shorts he'd fumbled you out of with just one hand. "Do you want me to make you something to eat when I come back up?"

"I doubt Jack left anything in the refrigerator while he was here," he grumbles, eyes still on you as you bring his hoodie down over your body and jump into your shorts, "I'll shower while you're downstairs and try get ready quick enough that we can stop for breakfast, yeah?"

"Okay," you lean back over to kiss him, "Please be careful in there, I don't want a lecture off of your brother for not taking care of your properly."

"Damn," he smirks, "I was gonna try and fake another injury so that you'd have to jump in with me to supervise next time."

"You just have to ask, idiot, don't hurt yourself on my account."

You part with one more kiss before you're making your way through his apartment, picking up your shoes on the way and grabbing his keys from where he'd left them on the hook by the door.

The two of you had been in such a rush to get up to the apartment the night before that you'd left your bags in the trunk of his car - the car he'd actually let you drive from the airport, despite the fact he'd once told you that you drive like a maniac and he'd never trust you behind the wheel again - and you're grateful that Luke didn't bring a bag himself or you'd have to haul them up on your own.

Getting your bag from the car back to the elevator is hard enough work - overpacking to the point of ruin, as always - and when you're finally inside and stretching out the muscles in your back, you hear the faint call of, hold the door, from around the corner.

Your hand shoots out before the doors can close, palm pressed to where they disappear, and then you're face to face with another girl - hair astray, chest heaving to try and gain her breath back, and the cutest baby you've ever seen attached at her hip.

"You're a lifesaver," she huffs as she steps in, leaning back against the far wall of the elevator as the doors start to close again, "I mean these things are quick, but if I don't get a snack in her hands in the next two minutes, this whole building is gonna know about it."

You chuckle, slightly tranced by the way the baby girl is staring at you - brown eyes wide and soft pink lips turned up in what you hope is a smile.

You reach into the front pocket of Luke's hoodie, and of course there's a pack of cookies in there, unopened from your flight yesterday. "Here," you smile, reaching out to the girl in front of you with them in your hand. "They're oatmeal cookies, I'm pretty sure. My boyfriend can't go anywhere without a snack either, but he's a grown man," you scoff, "Nowhere near as cute."

"You really are a lifesaver," she accepts the packet with a grateful smile, tearing them open, breaking one in half and handing it straight to the little girl, who brings them up to her mouth with zero hesitation. "I'm Poppy," her hand extends back out to yours, "And this is Lina."

You tell her your name while you shake her hand, and there's a flash of recognition as you say it, her eyes darting past you to check the buttons on the wall of the elevator.

"You're Luke's girlfriend!"

"How did you know that?"

"My partner is one of Luke's teammates, Nico." She smiles, "You made Mitchie!"

"Mitchie?" You frown, and she twists her hip until the diaper bag slung across her body comes into view, a familiar crochet giraffe slotted into the side pocket.

"We don't go anywhere without Mitchie."

A slow grin creeps onto your face as you look back at the baby clinging onto Poppy's side - dark eyes, soft brown hair, dimpled cheeks, just like Luke's team captain. The captain whose baby shower he had been trying to find a gift for all of last summer.

You've heard little pieces here and there about Poppy and Lina. Random little stories from Luke, a recollection of a brief encounter with Ellie, but you hadn't expected to meet her yourself in the middle of the building elevator without Luke around.

"I didn't realise you guys were back, I would have come to introduce myself, Luke's been telling us about you all year, hasn't he, bug?"

You feel the warmth seep up into your cheeks at that fact - the two of you technically only being together for the last 6 weeks or so.

"We got in last night," you tell her, only realising the elevator has come to a stop when it's on your floor, and the doors start to open. "He's inside if you want to come and say hi?"

"Are you sure?" Poppy asks, "I can always drop by later, or something?"

"No, it's fine, he's going a little stir crazy to be honest, might be good to see a familiar face that isn't mine."

"I get that," Poppy snorts as she follows you out of the elevator, Lina still happy as a clam on her hip with her gums wrapped around the cookie, soft little lip smacking sounds and hums coming from her direction. "Nico left a couple days ago and we've been walking circles around the local park just to stay busy. Everybody just disappears this time of the year."

"At least the weather's nice," you chuckle, unlocking the door and letting the two of them in before you close it again - relief flooding you at the fact that Jack had blitzed the whole place clean before he left last week. "We're around all week if you need us for anything."

"I see why the kid's so in love with you," Poppy grins, switching her daughter to the other side of her hip and pressing a kiss to her temple. "We might just take you up on that offer, you love your Uncle Lukey, don't you, Lina Bug?"

The sound of Uncle Lukey spreads something warm and crackling through your chest - the picture of his dorky self entertaining a baby, putting on dumb voices and getting super into all the play pretend and make believe stuff is sparking thoughts within you that you never even had before.

And at the mere mention of his name, Luke emerges from his room down the hall - thankfully dressed after his shower, though his shirt is creased and his jeans are unbuttoned - an immediate smile brought to his lips that you haven't seen in the last few days.

"Cheeto!" he exclaims, and you stop him just before he reaches the two of them so you can button his pants together, patting a hand to his stomach to signal that he can go.

He curls his good arm around Poppy, the two of them falling into a sweet and familiar embrace before he diverts his attention to the baby in her arms, who's round cheeks flush just at the sight of him - similar to the way you seem to react to him sometimes.

He coos at her, and she giggles back - her cookie discarded as she throws her arms out to be held by him, and you barely stop yourself from wincing as he picks her straight up, his bad shoulder be damned.

"Are you supposed to be lifting babies?" Poppy frowns, and you're thanking God she seems to be on the same boat as you as the two of you watch him softly bounce Lina about.

"Other babies, probably not," he replies, "Nothing will stop me picking up my little Cheeto, though." The voice he puts on is deep, almost comical, lips pouting and brows furrowing as the baby giggles back in response, little squeaks of delight erupting from her chunky little figure.

"Cheeto?"

"She didn't have a name for a long time," Poppy smiles over at you, "Looked like a cheeto in all of her scans, so that's what we called her before she was Lina, and some people can't let it go."

You smile back, sort of weirdly grateful that she didn't clap back with an, it's a long story, so that you could be involved.

"What are you doing here?" Luke asks, twisting until he's facing Poppy while the little girl he's holding puffs her cheeks out at him.

"We were just gonna go out for a walk and grab something to eat, but I realised I forgot snacks for the walk and I met your wonderful girlfriend in the elevator. We have you to thank for this mushed up cookie, I think," Poppy holds her hand out to show him the soggy mess in her hand from where Lina had discarded it before, and you press your lips together to bite back a smile.

You can't really imagine holding anybody's half chewed food - let alone a baby, the thought of it sending slight shivers down your spine.

"We can get breakfast with you, if you want, we were heading out too, right babe?"

Luke looks over at you with widened eyes and a slight, hopeful smile, all thoughts of Thunderbolts seemingly forgotten. You can hardly say no to him, though - you haven't seen him this excited since he got injured, maybe even before then. And you like Poppy, too.

She probably has some dirt on Luke, and she seems like the type who's willing to share.

"Yeah, I bet you know way better food spots than this one does, he'd shovel anything in."

"Hey," he pouts, but he's overshadowed by the laughter of the woman beside him, who looks over at you with a warm smile and gratitude reflecting in her eyes.

"That sounds incredible, actually," she beams, "I'd really appreciate the company."

And that's how the two of you end up spending the entire day with Poppy and Lina - grabbing breakfast at a little cafe Poppy recommended, her catching you up on all her favourite Luke stories as the baby ends up on your lap at one point, stealing half of the avocado from your toast as she let you feed it to her, then joining them on their walk through the park, and even looking after Lina just the two of you while Poppy has a much needed break for an hour up in her and Nico's apartment.

You see a different side to Luke - and as much as you loved him before, as much as you didn't think you could possibly love him any more, you somehow do.

You love the responsible side to him - the side that for some reason knows what temperature Lina likes her bottles, and the signs that she's sleepy, or hungry, or wanting to explore. You love the caring side to him - the side that urges Poppy to leave her baby in your care, and take some time for herself after days of Nico being away, knowing that she's in for a lot more solitude in the weeks to come.

You love the side of him that shares it all with you - gets you involved in such an intimate part of his life you never had access to, before.

And by the end of the day, when you're feeding Lina some blended vegetable concoction Luke had made for her just before Poppy gets there, and you're catching the bits she spits out in your bare hand like you'd been cringing at just hours ago - you realise you love how he gets you to open up to ideas you wouldn't have ever considered until you became familiar with Uncle Lukey, and you can't wait to see what other sides of him you can uncover in all the unlimited amount of time you now have with him.

[nostalgebraist]

Imagine that you can still draw, or paint, if you feel like it, and have the tools. That hasn't changed.

And (no, this post isn't about AI, there we go, where was I) all the other newer tools still exist too: Wacom tablets exist, and Adobe Photoshop, and every sort of camera, and so forth. If you have these tools ready at hand, you can just pick them up, and make pictures with them.

And tumblr still exists, and all the rest of the internet with it. And so – if you like – you can use these venues to share the pictures you make with others, easily and immediately, for free.

However, there is also another venue, for sharing pictures.

That is the only thing that is different.

The other venue is... let's say it's a magazine that only prints visual art, and which has an extremely large number of subscribers.

Everyone knows about The Magazine. Most people you know are subscribers.

Before the internet, The Magazine was the main way that visual art got into people's homes (if it wasn't created there in the first place). Your parents speak of The Magazine as though it's just where art lives, as though the notion that there might be art somewhere else has never really crossed their minds.

Much of what appears in The Magazine is, in fact, pretty good. Conversely, much of the truly great art of the recent past made an appearance in The Magazine, at some point, before or after appearing in galleries and/or being reproduced in other ways.

But a lot of it is just... fine. Trendy, competent, workmanlike.

You flip through the pages and mostly you think, yeah, this sure is the sort of thing that gets printed in The Magazine, in the current year. Occasionally you're impressed by something you see there, and even more rarely something moves you, transfixes you.

Much the same could be said of your tumblr dash, of course.

It must be noted, however, that The Magazine has a higher quality floor than your tumblr dash. Everything that appears there looks polished, professional, carefully worked-over. This counts for less than one might think; that professional gloss can do nothing to elevate ill-conceived or simply dull work (and The Magazine does print such things fairly often).

In a gallery, you might encounter mere sketches, or blatantly unfinished paintings (Leonardo left behind plenty of both, after all). But you will never find such things in The Magazine.

The Magazine's cultural and psychological prestige is immense. It holds the popular conception of "art" in its tight, totalizing grip. If you ever pick up a pencil and draw, it will be assumed – by default – that you aspire to eventual publication in The Magazine. If you are not very good, people will tell you to keep at it; maybe someday you will make the grade. If you are good, people will tell you so, and ask you whether you've prepared anything for submission, whether you've sent it, whether you heard back.

It is tremendously inconvenient to appear in The Magazine.

After all, anyone can pick up paper and pencil, but The Magazine only has so many pages per month. So, The Magazine has standards. It is persnickety. It couldn't afford to behave differently.

But even if it could afford to behave differently, it would not want to. For it so happens that The Magazine prides itself on its active role in the production of "art" (meaning, "that which has appeared in The Magazine").

Even if you are one of the "lucky" few who does not receive a simple rejection letter from The Magazine, you will not simply be allowed to put your drawing or painting or what-have-you into The Magazine as it is.

Unmediated transmission of art, straight from artist to viewer, is for lower-class venues ("tumblr.com," "physical reality and its tendency to project images of nearby objects onto the retina," etc). The Magazine has standards, and they have a full staff of not-quite-artist, not-quite-art-critic people who are employed to impose them. If you do not get a rejection letter, what happens instead is that you begin a long and laborious transaction with one or more of these strange middlemen. They will tell you that your work is a good start, but that you really should have put this part over there, or made the symbolism more obvious or less obvious, or "applied your evident talent" to a more socially relevant choice of subject matter, or something of this nature.

Eventually, after a protracted interaction like this, you might succeed! A new, different, quite possibly worse picture – produced by laboriously adjusting your original one (which, being original/unmediated, is of course unprintable by definition) until The Magazine's staff feel satisfied in the relative scope of their role versus yours in the collaborative act that is "art" production – will end up on a page somewhere in the next issue of The Magazine.

And, finally: real art has been produced! You've made it!

You're in The Magazine. And your work ("your"? you don't feel so sure anymore) does look nice, sitting there on one of those oh-so-glossy pages.

It is nice enough that you spend nearly a minute lingering over it, before you go back to tumblr.com, where all the rest of the pictures are.

(And then, on the weekend, you go to a museum, and look at pictures which were being lauded as masterworks centuries before The Magazine was even founded. You could never produce anything like them, you know – and you feel envious of their creators, not so much because of their greater talents, but because no one ever praised them by saying, hey, this stuff is good enough to be in The Magazine!)

But at least your mom and dad will look at your drawings, now, and think: my child is an artist. You were an artist before, too, but it was just amateur stuff. Now it's for real. Professional. In The Magazine.

Professional? Well, The Magazine did pay you a little in the end, as a prize. And there are some people who make their livings this way. They have good, longstanding, hard-won relationships with The Magazine's staff of intermediaries. They are unusual; by sheer force of numbers, only a select few can make a decent and reliable living in this manner.

(Indeed, The Magazine's insistence on imposing its standards is essentially inimical to steady, reproducible money-making for individual artists. You shouldn't feel secure already that they'll print your next picture without delay, before you've even sent it in for assessment – that would mean they are not keeping standards at all, wouldn't it? And so, cultural forces within The Magazine conspire to degrade its value as a potential source of one's livelihood.)

Those who appear regularly in The Magazine have unparalleled reach. As a child, perhaps, they shaped your notion of what an "artist" was; as a child, maybe you wanted to be just like them, when you grew up.

But then you did grow up – and so, you realized that they were employing the tools at hand (pencil, paper) to a very unusual end. Anyone can pick up the tools and draw. But few can make it into The Magazine, and perhaps even fewer than that should want to appear there.

After all, there is something almost shameful about the exercise, isn't it?

The Magazine says: I am the means by art is produced and disseminated. And many people, passively following the ambient culture, unconsciously nod along.

But in fact, The Magazine has no potency in it whatsoever. It is you, and the viewer, who create the work of art and create the experience of experiencing art. You can just draw things. You can just show your drawings to people.

And The Magazine cannot turn an uninspired artist into a genius, or an unskilled artist into a master; it can only trim perceived fat, arrange perceived rough edges into a more agreeable shape, apply gloss and trendiness and "professionalism." But those were never what anyone liked about art to begin with. You don't need them – unless you do, for your own artistic reasons (and your viewers'), and in that case home-made versions will probably do the job well enough.

There is, in fact, not much reason at all to want to appear in The Magazine.

And that, in itself, is a strong argument against the idea.

You ought not to play along in the charade, pretending that the whole laborious exercise has a point after all, if you know that it is in fact pointless. This is a matter of integrity, if nothing else.

Anyway, that's how I feel whenever anyone's like, "so are you gonna try to get this stuff published or what"

[kxsagi]

it’s may first! ^^ can i request a fic with bllk characters having cuteness aggression for the reader? maybe with isagi, nagi, sae, rin, and others?

“𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧(‘𝐭) 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭”

a/n: yesss i genuinely apologize if this came off as repetitive 😭

ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, mikage reo, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, ness alexis, shidou ryusei, niko ikki, hiori yo

isagi yoichi

it starts with him thinking he’s normal. 

he’s like “yeah my girlfriend’s cute” all smiley and in love… until you do something heinous like wear his oversized jersey with messy hair and rub your sleepy eyes. 

next thing you know, isagi’s clutching a pillow, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to explode. 

“you’re so–AHHHH–I’M GONNA LOSE IT I SWEAR ON MY SOUL.” 

grabs you and buries his face into your neck while yelling into it like you just scored a hat trick. 

“stop being so cute it’s pissing me off!!!” 

his form of cuteness aggression is hugging you like a koala until your lungs collapse. 

nagi seishiro

says “meh” but he is screaming internally. 

you do anything mildly adorable, like kiss his cheek and walk away humming, and he just freezes. buffering. overheating. 

“ugh. i wanna squeeze you like a mochi. until you pop or something.” 

gently squishes your cheeks like he’s testing the elasticity of his favorite plush toy. 

he actually doesn’t know what to do with himself when you wear his hoodie. he lies face-down on the couch whispering “i’m gonna bite her.” 

and he does. softly. to your shoulder. out of love. 

itoshi sae

looks calm. he is not calm. 

“you’re doing it again.” 

you blink innocently. “doing what?” 

“looking like that. with your stupid little smile and your stupid cute face and–i can’t deal with this right now.” 

threatens to punt a chair across the room while pinching your cheeks violently (but lovingly). 

he does bite. it’s controlled. calculated. usually on your arm or your hip. 

tells you with a deadpan expression, “you make me want to chew cardboard.” 

you laugh. he sulks. “stop giggling. you’re making it worse.” 

itoshi rin

thinks he’s above it until you do something sickeningly soft. 

like holding a stray cat with a baby voice. or smiling in your sleep. or calling him “rinnie” in public. 

his whole body glitches. twitching eye. twitching jaw. 

“i’m going to bite you. i’m not kidding. i feel violent.” 

stares at you like you’ve committed crimes against his sanity. 

grabs your face and grumbles about how you should “come with a warning label.” 

sulks under a blanket after. sends you a text from the same room: “why are you so cute. this is my 13th reason.”

mikage reo

shameless. will say out loud in a crowded room: “you’re literally too cute. i’m gonna slam dunk you into a pillow and never let you out.” 

squishes your cheeks like they’re made of mochi, buries you in kisses, threatens to bite your nose. 

you trip over something and he’s like “oh my gosh–AHHH–you’re so cute when you’re clumsy i hate you i love you.” 

tells nagi “if she keeps being adorable i’ll explode into confetti and die smiling.” 

kisses you mid-sentence just to cope. he can’t handle your laugh. 

bachira meguru

LITERALLY growls. like a chihuahua. 

“ghhhHHH, baby stop, STOP i can’t take it–WHY ARE YOU SMILING LIKE THAT–” 

full-on vibrating with aggression and adoration. 

grabs you like you’re a teddy bear and spins you around because he has too much cute energy and it needs to come out somehow. 

you could yawn and he’d be like “NOOOOO, stop being cute it HURTS.” 

considers biting your thigh like a goblin. asks permission first. 

chigiri hyoma

the most composed about it… at first. 

you’re used to his little hums of “so pretty” or “you’re adorable.” 

but then you do something extra cute. like falling asleep while waiting for him to get home. 

and he’s like “… i could throw you across the room and then kiss you after.” 

will actually growl into a pillow and blush like a cartoon character. 

mutters “you’re so cute it pisses me off” while braiding your hair or painting your nails. 

refuses to elaborate. you just get a glare and a forehead kiss. 

karasu tabito

he thinks he’s soooo smooth and composed but the moment you giggle at one of his dumb jokes? 

he’s gripping the back of his neck like, “nah, cause you did that on purpose. you want me to die. admit it.” 

covers his face with his hoodie, groaning dramatically. 

“you’re cute in a way that makes me want to scream into traffic.” 

when you pout at him? immediate jaw-clench. physical pain. 

aggressively kisses your forehead like he’s trying to exorcise the cute out of you. 

tells you he’s gonna put you in a glass box so no one else can witness your evil adorableness. 

kaiser michael

he's the definition of “i’m gonna bite you out of love.” 

he gets a twitch in his eye when you do literally anything. 

you say “i missed you” in your soft little voice and he short circuits like, “i could throw you out the window and catch you just to kiss you again.” 

“why are you like this. why are you soft and cute and… ugh!!” 

flops face-down on your lap groaning into your thighs like you’re ruining his life. 

you do your hair in braids and he loses it. grabs your face. threatens to bite your ear. 

“you make me wanna bark. it’s humiliating.” 

ness alexis

the king of “i love you but i also want to scream into a wall” energy. 

he just folds every time you do something small and sweet like reaching for his hand or laughing at his dorky jokes. 

his knees buckle. he makes little squeaky noises. 

“you don’t understand. i physically cannot take this much cuteness in one person.” 

face in his hands, peeking through his fingers like you’re the sun and he’s a fragile victorian child. 

mumbles into your shoulder: “you make me wanna scream into a jar and throw it into the ocean.” 

shidou ryusei

he literally bites. you’ll be cuddling and he’ll chomp your shoulder like a gremlin. 

“you’re cute. shut up. i hate it. i wanna fight god.” 

will squeak like an animal when you do something gentle, like fixing his hoodie strings or brushing hair out of his face. 

he rolls around on the bed kicking his feet like a toddler on pixy sticks when you call him “baby.” 

“GHHHHH you make me wanna chew drywall and scream.” 

will look at you smiling and just… headbutt your shoulder in defeat. 

shidou.exe has stopped working due to excessive adorability. 

niko ikki

blushes. scowls. mutters death threats at the wall. 

literally goes red when you call him “handsome” or hold his pinky. 

he tries to stay cool, but he ends up pacing the room whispering, “i wanna throw her off the couch and wrap her in a blanket burrito.” 

makes this tiny frustrated growl like he’s trying to hold back a feral squeal. 

when you do something REALLY adorable, like fall asleep with your cheek smushed against his chest, he stares at the ceiling like “god. give me strength. i will combust.” 

finally mutters a defeated, “you’re so freaking cute it’s making me ill.” 

hiori yo

hiori doesn’t mean to be dramatic… but you’re literally testing his limits as a human being. 

the way you hum while brushing your teeth. the way you squish his cheeks and say “my baby.” the way you fall asleep mid-movie with your mouth slightly open. 

he can’t handle it. 

he’s so soft spoken but suddenly he’s gripping a pillow like: “i can’t take it. i can’t–what am i supposed to do with this much cuteness???” 

bites his sleeve in emotional agony. physically restrains himself from aggressively snuggling you. 

mutters, “you make me want to scream into a cup and drink it.” 

tells you “stop it” while staring at you with hearts in his eyes. 

he’s like a cat that wants to be picked up and also wants to claw your face because he’s overwhelmed. 

when you kiss his forehead he just… shuts down. 

sits on the floor in a daze like, “i’m in love. i’m dying. help me.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[chillinglikeashilling]

The more I think about Annie and Smoke the more I'm obsessed with the fact that Smoke, despite his willingness to do violence in protection of himself and his family, let's Annie under his guard like it's second nature.

I'm sure someone can, and probably has, say/said it more elgantly but I'm so fascinated by Annie and Smoke and how violence, a thing Smoke is very good at using to his own ends, plays into their interpersonal dynamics.

She had his throat in her hand and yet he never reaches for his own weapon, never flinches away, he trusts her so much not to hurt him.

Another thing I keep thinking of is the parallel between Annie telling Smoke to give her money back and Smoke tellimg Sammie to give up the Blues.

The way that Annie reaches for her razor and Smoke reaches for his gun, and Sammie's shock (and some fear) at Smoke's threat, while Smoke kept talking to Annie like they were having a little lover's quarrel.

Side note: obsessed with the implication from the photos of them that Annie used the same razor she threatened him with to shave him up nice and pretty for the opening night.

The fact that Annie asked Smoke to kill her once the bones told her their fates and how that's really the first time in the movie that we see Smoke balk at the idea of violence. This man who has killed a snake, shot at least two men that very morning, pulled his gun stone faced on both Sammie and Pearline.

The fact that she trusted him to use his violence to free her soul when his brother had specially targeted her to trap Smoke into immortality with him and Mary. What does that tell us about what Stack thought of Smoke and Annie that he is aghast at the idea that his brother could actually bring himself to stake her even though Stack must have known Annie would never want to be a vampire.

But also that final scene where Annie's holding the baby and Elijah is sitting there smoking, literally but also metaphorically-the smoke yet to clear after his greatest act of violence in the film, and she asks him to stop. She doesn't want any of that smoke on the baby after all.

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 04.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, mention of blood, inaccurate medical talk, not proofread

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: im having a shit week but at least i have time to write. enjoy :)

wc: 3.8k

fic masterlist. previous. next

dividers by @cafekitsune

easing back into normalcy wasn't easy, not after that very weird, very out of the blue— very pretty— gift. you had wrapt it back in its box and kept it safely on your vanity as if your clumsy hands would somehow shatter the rubies. you had decided to give it back to red. you knew well in first glance that it would have hurt his pockets hard enough— and you just can't accept something that expensive as just an apology.

but he didn't turn up. that sly idiot did not come, it has been a whole week now. and you tried to rationalise that he has far more responsibilities on his shoulders than to play buddy buddy with you but you just wanted to return something that you possibly don't deserve.

you kept your grubby hands off of it without any problem initially, then your heart began tugging you along, wanting you to just wear it. its pretty, you love pretty things who doesn't?

your eyes stared at it, lips puckered in a deep frown, struggling with the polite part of you. the rubies stared back, like sirens calling.

that's when there was a knock, no not on the balcony but from the main entrance. you almost released a disappointed sigh as your heart had momentarily awakened in anticipation of that vigilante.

you opened the door and Kira barged in with bags— shopping bags held on both her forearms. you closed the door with an amused smile and folded your arms, "looks like you finally emptied your bank account huh?"

she rolled her eyes but her giddy smile stayed etched, "of course not! i didn't pay for it. at least not mine." your brows furrowed and she continued, "we're going to the gala!"

in contrast to her excited yelling, your brows just further furrowed, lips scrunching up as you walked towards her, poking at the bags in confusion and suspicion. dresses, two in total. "who's we, kira?" you questioned before giving her a pointed look, "tell me you don't mean me."

kira is a reporter, a good one at that, just reaching her prime and she has been to a good number of galas.

her lips turned downturned, brows furrowing and you immediately scoffed, "i can't believe you—"

"but its a gala."

"filled with those snobby, rich, insensitive—"

"it has great wine. and food."

"i can get great food at the diner down the road. and its made by a sweet old lady-"

"its a Wayne gala."

your lips seized for a moment, stopping as you registered the words. in your eyes all those charity galas are nothing but places for the rich to practice their laughs and stew in gossip. but you've heard of the most talked gala, the ones the Wayne's throw. and while you still have your reservations about it, you know its one of the genuinly best parties. it has the best cuisine selected, the wines are somehow always something new and better than last, the arrangement actually shows refined taste.

maybe for a day you can set aside your differences, at least you can have an experience of a gala, the best one at that. even if it'll suck at least you'll have a story to tell.

so you consider, much to your chagrin, you do.

"its still gonna be filled with those pricks." you grumbled, though it sounded more petulant than firm and she bit back a smile, "yeah but who says you gotta talk with anyone of them? I'll quickly scope any scoop i can get then we can dance, and drink and eat- all while looking the most gorgeous in the room."

and she's got you.

"alright when?"

"dress up, pretty. we're leaving in an hour." she winked before happily taking the bags to your room and you followed behind with a sigh.

"its been soo long since we went out together-"

"didn't we just eat dinner together yesterday?"

"that wasn't going out, that was just stewing in each other's depression." she scowled before stopping dead on her tracks, her eyes trained right on the earrings.

"oh. my. god."

"oh shit—" you cursed under your breath before rushing to hastily close the box. she clicked her tongue in annoyance before swatting you away, opening it back up and gasping yet again.

"who gave you these?!"

you reeled back a bit with an offended frown, "why did you assume someone gave it to me? i could have bought it too."

"with that salary? yeah right." she scoffed before back to cooing at the earrings as if its literally her baby.

"out with it. who gifted you these hm??" she teasingly asked and your groaned, pulling the box gently out of her grasp and putting it back down.

"no one. i mean— a friend."

"right a friend." she scoffed, "at least he's a loaded one for sure."

"its nothing kira. im gonna return it."

"why?!" she stares at you like you just committed a heinous crime, making you scoff. "because its too expensive?"

"so??" she scoffed back as she rested a hand on her hips, "come on if this didn't hurt the pockets of the one who gifted you, you should just thank the daylights outta them and wear it."

"but—"

"not wearing it will be a disrespect to the gift. to the person."

"....you know this is called manipulation?"

"not if its for your best interests." she shrugged as a cheshire smile adorned her lips, "also they're just too pretty to return because you're an emotional idiot."

and so she finally convinced you to go, wearing those rubies. you felt a bit bad for wearing them without even thanking him prior to it. the guilt was there, like a persistent ache, but it lightened at the sight of them on you. they really were beautiful, you didn't linger on why he specifically bought rubies, chalking it up to him just really being obsessed with red.

and as you left, lost in the shine of the red on you, you failed to notice the red reflecting off the glass of your balcony.

"kira what the fuck?"

"i know."

it was beautiful, down from the drapes to the architecture, the carefully selected wine that tasted just the right amount of sweet and fizzy, the chandelier— the chandelier. it was straight out of some fantasy, some fairytale and all its missing is the fluffy gowns. of course its ethereal, it would be since its held in the Wayne manor itself— something kira failed to mention.

"you didn't tell me it was hosted right in the manor!" you whispered to her, nervously yet awkwardly looking around. it wasn't that you were a mess at interactions, its just you don't want to be caught fawning over the art and architecture all for a rich snob to sneer at you. you really do not want to out yourself in a sea of sharks.

"it was supposed to be a surprise!" she grinned, this time it really was innocent and you sighed, shaking you head as you smoothened your dress for the umpteenth time.

"you gotta relax, pretty." she reassured, gently steering your shoulders towards herself, "do what you like. flirt with whoever you want or simply geek out about the art. the people here are way too self absorbed to notice us, trust me." times like this you really do feel grateful for a friend like hers.

"and if someone bothers you, i'll take care of them. just holler." she grinned wickedly, winking at you as she pulled back.

"holler? in the middle of the gala?"

"yep." she chuckled as she started walking away, "they won't remember us anyway."

you shook your head as you stifled a laugh, something told you she has brought the wild side of her to a lot of galas.

but then you realise you're alone. while she makes her round for any potential scoops, you need to keep yourself company. so you snatch a wine before looking around, actively avoiding everyone's eye. you pick a relatively empty corner by the huge window stool, leaning against the wall as your eyes admire the particular painting up on the wall.

"not fond of socialising i presume?"

your skin jumped a bit, the wine sloshing around in the glass a bit as you looked beside you. you really didn't hear him— him, oh he's a gorgeous him alright.

"didn't mean to startle. dick grayson." he smiled, a certain playfullness to it before he extended his hand towards you.

your eyes flickered to his hand and then his eyes, skeptical but also a bit confused. not only have you seen him somewhere that name sounds awfully familiar—

"oh!" your brows jumped up as you shook his hand, quite a reflex action since you realised this damn manor was technically his home. "hello— hi. sorry i didn't recognize-"

"its no problem." he chuckled, amusement rolling off of him and you're already starting to see the proof of his charm that the gotham talks about, "i tend to gravitate towards the more interesting people in these boring galas, so i should be the one apologising if i... intruded."

he did not sound apologetic at all, instead his eyes simply flared with delight as he looked down at you. it unsettled you, not exactly in a creepy way, but you do want to be a part of whatever he is concocting in that pretty head of his.

"interesting? how is me standing in a corner interesting?" you mused as your raised a brow at him, willing your nerves down. he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets before looking around, his brows furrowing in fake annoyance.

"you're not among them, gossping and bragging. or feeling me up." he makes an exaggerated shudder of his body before sighing and you stifle a laugh, "the gotham elite has some drama every other tuesday, so i get them needing to gossip." you shrugged and he caught the way you subtly grouped him with them.

"also i thought you liked the attention. i don't mean to assume, but it certainly looked that way in the tabloids." you said and he immediately grinned teasingly , "really didn't take you to be interested in tabloids."

"im not." you come to your defense, quite quickly so, "but i see them here and there. in passing." you're definitely not going to accept that in front of anyone, much less the source.

out of the corner of your eye you noticed the center being cleared, lights dimming down. as if that was exactly what he was waiting for he extended a hand and did a little bow, and you wondered just how many people has he charmed to be this confident.

"great to know you're interested." he said and before you could deny that he tilted his head towards the center, where few had gathered. "a dance? something to break your assumptions." his smile wasn't inviting, it was challenging. everything about him seemed mischievous, as if he was upto no good.

still you accepted, and he was a good dancer. he swayed you right, the dip was perfect— though his hold did get tight suddenly.

dick on the other hand, he wasn't looking at the pretty lady in his arms, no, he was looking at his brother right across the room shooting daggers at him. he smiled back, wide and smug, before mouthing, "she's really gorgeous."

Jason's fist tightened as his jaw clenched in unmasked ire at his brother's antics. he would have regretted coming here, as he always does, but he really can't stand you in his arms.

so what happened was he had... eavesdropped on your conversation with your friend. he only wanted to check up on you but the mention of gala really caught his attention. more when the name Wayne reached his ears, he should have left at that. he never attends Bruce's galas, hates them with a passion— not to mention any interaction with bruce that puts him in the spotlight really throws him off. but then you wore the earrings— his earrings. and just like that his heart swayed.

it swayed so hard to the point he doned on the suit, full black and formal. and while the stares and whispers made his eyes twitch, he was far too enamored by the sight of you, beautiful and stunning. he can't help the pride that swells in his chest as the earrings glint in the warm light, he does have impeccable taste.

he would have approached first, he really wanted to but he wasn't red hood right now, he wasn't the red you knew, he was just.. jason. the man who promised to text back for the settlement of the coffee but left you on unread. yeah he really forgot about that.

and he was content with simply watching, but apparently his brother wasn't. dick was already flabbergasted when jason called him to let him know he's coming, reluctantly requesting him to handle bruce in case he swarms jason. and ever the curious cat that dick is, he needed to know why the sudden change of heart.

and his eyes followed Jason's line of direction and settled on you, immediately remembering you from the cafe.

now being the good brother he is, it is his... duty, you can say, to push his brother on the right path. and so that is why he is swaying with you, your innocent yet awkward smile in sharp contrast to Jason's glare at a distance.

his dimples simply deepened as he watched jason literally march to where you are, so confidently and smoothly evening out his frown before plastering the same charming smile dick has.

"really sorry to cut in." he wasn't. before you even knew what was happening, who it was and why the hell did dick wink at him—

oh.

Jason's hand engulfed yours, intertwining, while his hand slipped around your waist yet it felt as if it was hovering. he didn't even pull you close, the gap almost felt awkward yet his eyes didn't show that discomfort. he was giving you a choice, asking while respecting your space.

"you." you whispered out, and your brows raised slowly, "the guy who helped. jason was it?" you remembered his name, you weren't one to forget so easily. but it did hurt your ego a tad bit to not get a text back, its not like you were hitting on him, you simply wanted to return back the money.

his lips pulled into a sheepish smile as he looked away for a moment, cursing his past self for his stupid decisions. it made sense at that moment, to keep you at an arms length. "one and only."

you stepped closer to him, letting your hand rest on his chest, a silent permission and in an instant his hovering hand rested on your waist. it was just a simple touch, you shouldn't make a big deal out of it yet his touch burnt you— it seared through the very fabrics and found its way to your heart. neck warmed, heart thudded— your breath stuttered for a good second, but it wasn't noticeable enough, you hope.

it was to him.

he looked different, maybe its the lights or the suit, but he looked different, dashing. beautifully so. you couldn't help the subtle way your eyes lingered on him, not stagnant on a particular point but all of him. eyes, cheeks, scars, neck, lips—

"i really want to apologise. for not texting." he said, making your eyes snap up and you hoped he didn't notice how sweaty your hands got, or felt the heat searing your body.

he did.

of course he noticed, he noticed everything— he sees everything. but you don't, and for that he's thankful. he's entirely thankful that you didn't feel the twitch of his hand on your waist, simply to bury the need to pull you closer. you didn't notice the way his eyes softened when you let him be close, the way his lips parted. he could finally let his eyes be, admire you in your beauty while being jason and not red.

"can i know why?" he twirled you and gently tugged you back in his arms, they didn't feel cagey. for some odd reason something about him felt... familiar. the proximity was less than it was with dick, yet it didn't raise any flags in your head.

"i mean i wasn't hitting on you. just wanted to return your money." you shrugged and that tone was enough to drag him out of his happy reverie, plunge him in ice cold water because you do not sound very pleased right now.

"i forgot about it— im so sorry." he winced out a smile as he swayed you a bit more, more snug and your eyes narrowed amusingly, " i forgot about it and since i don't bother with unknown numbers—"

"i mentioned my name. and i think i even added that im the person from the cafe." you cut through, faking an innocent tone but your eyes conveyed all the skepticism you felt , "the very same day too. so unless you've got amnesia— which you clearly don't— i don't see how you forgot about it." your smirk was challenging, taunting and his heart roared. it fucking roared in his chest. he should feel even a tiniest bit guilty but he doesn't. his mistake did lead to seeing you being mean and scathing— he loved that.

and as if some higher power (dick) was helping him, the tempo changed. it was faster than before, it had more tension.

it got his blood rushing, putting his rational side on the bench and letting his heart dictate every move. it was dangerous, it was stupid.

but did it matter?

one look at you, the slight pull of a smile on your lips and he doesn't even have to answer.

nope.

legs worked faster, his hands gripped yours harder, twirled you faster— till your back collided with his chest. you felt the slight brush of his jaw on your cheek, the smell of aftershave. the man you met in the cafe was gentle, reserved but nice. the man you're in the arms of is far more than that.

"anyway i can make it up to you?" he twirled you back around and pulled you close, his hand flat on your back. he tilted his head, and suddenly the gap lessened even more. you could see his eyes— the deep blue, the green. his pupils were dilated, depths that seemed to snatch you in them.

"by taking back the money i guess— you're good at this." you huffed out in slight surprise, your brows furrowing and he chuckled, deep and low enough to reverberate through you. "glad i could impress you."

"you were impressing me?"

"thought that was obvious?"

"no i thought you wanted to forget about me—"

you let out an inaudible gasp as he dipped you suddenly. you didn't know whether to be shocked or mad at him. but your heart didn't care for either, thudding so hard you wouldn't be surprised if the whole fucking room heard it.

"let me take buy you a coffee as an apology?" he whispered, smiling so smugly you scoffed at his audacity as he pulled you up.

"are you asking me out after ignoring me for weeks— no, months?" you questioned cheekily and he laughed, "im never gonna hear the end of it won't i?"

"you sound like you're already sure i agreed. i didn't yet."

"you didn't say no either."

"but i can."

"you won't though."

you glared at him but the smile on your lips gave away your amusement. your eyes caught kira in a distance, wiggling her brows at you.

you stopped before taking a step back, your body didn't appreciate being robbed of his warmth though. "it was nice meeting you again, jason."

suddenly grabbed your hand as you were about to walk past him, "the earrings look beautiful on you by the way." he smiled before walking away, the tip of his ears suddenly red despite the confidence he presented. your hand instinctively touched your earring and you smiled, yeah they are.

Jason's world was crashing down, hands twitching, curling and uncurling as it lamented the loss of you. he got a taste, and now he wants more. he already thought he had enough as red, meeting you in those little stolen moments were enough. but now he saw how you'd look in his arms.

his heart craves that.

its a storm in him, he should keep his distance. sever all ties all together, both as red hood and as jason. that would be the smart thing to do, the right thing. he shouldn't entangle his personal and vigilante life together, not that they weren't already. but at least to you, red and jason were different. and he thought both were undeserving of the warmth of life, all until you.

so why won't his heart want you? selfish, greedy— whatever his heart was it didn't matter, he didn't care. there was more than just a pull towards you, you had already made a snug little home in his heart and he couldn't find it in himself to evict you out. his mind and heart were yet again in a clash.

his phone vibrated. his brows furrowed as he looked down at it. immediately he scoffed out a laugh, you wired back the money. and texted him a lil something.

i don't like owing people. also i'm only free on weekends.

he shook his head. what storm, what clash? it didn't matter. it never did. you were already carving a you shaped hole through the walls around his heart.

"why the hell you didn't tell me you danced like that?!"

jason rolled his eyes at dick. he forgot how both him and bruce must have seen it all.

"i didn't know i could either." he muttered under his breath but dick didn't care, he wiggled his brows again.

"you guys looked snug and cosy."

"that you did." where the hell did Alfred come from?

"we were just dancing!"

"why didn't you tell me you were coming jason? and who was that lady?" great now bruce spawned out of nowhere.

"is this an interrogation?" he grumbled under his breath but dick only grinned.

"did she say yes?"

"to what?" jason frowned in frustration.

"you asked her out. did she say yes?" now he frowned for a whole different reason.

"i didn't—"

"you're dating?"

"excellent choice, master jason."

"im not—"

"oh he is. oh i wish everyone could see it." dick sighed exaggeratedly.

"you will tell no one—"

"already did."

jason rubbed his face as he looked up at the ceiling.

"i will shove your face in that horrible cake."

"....it wasn't horrible :("

taglist: @itzmeme @bmyva1entine @sept3mberchild @lightthatgoout @satan-s-ass @deadbeatphobos @starshinegrl @ttdamian

reblogs are appreciated :D

[ashwhowrites]

Hi there!

Your angst is pretty great and I'm addicted to reading angsty stuff and I hardly request things so hopefully I do this right without taking your creative freedom away. I was thinking Eddie x Reader are friends, she likes him and he knows she does without telling her; he's unsure how he feels but he drunkenly makes out with her at a party or something, obviously leading her on. Once she confronts him about it, he's awkward and doesn't make a big deal about it though it meant a lot to her. You can decide their fate. If you do choose to write this, thank you. 😚

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️

Can a kiss change anything?

Y/N couldn't remember when she fell in love with Eddie. It felt as if she was always in love with him and didn't have a single day where she didn't. She wished more than anything to tell him but she was too scared. She was scared she'd make him run, drop her, ruin their friendship and never talk to her again.

She wasn't aware Eddie knew about her feelings. She thought she was good at keeping it a secret but Eddie wasn't as oblivious as people thought. He could see it in the way she looked at him, how her skin turned warm whenever he touched her, and the small changes from a friend to a crush.

He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He thought she was a beautiful girl but the idea of her being with someone else didn't twist his stomach. He enjoyed his time with her, but he didn't crave to be by her side all day. He never thought about his feelings for her until he realized hers. But even then, he didn't feel any different. He did like the attention he got from her, and how she hung on to every word he said. She made him feel confident. He liked that she had a crush but he didn't like her.

Y/N was in her own world where she pictured Eddie realizing his feelings one day and then they'll be together forever. It was fate that she believed in. He just hadn't realized it yet.

~~~

Y/N was giggling as she and Eddie took another shot. They were seated at the dead bar, spending all the cash Eddie made at the party before.

"Isn't this so much better than staying with all those losers?" Eddie said as he slammed down another shot and called for another.

"I only care about being with you anyway," she said as she gagged on the shot. "Fuck that's awful!"

Eddie ignored the first part of her sentence, laughing at her suffering from the shot. "Looks like you need another," he teased as he called for another.

"I'm so drunk!" She groaned as she placed her head on the sticky bar.

"That's gross!" Eddie laughed, "here pick up your head," he demanded. She listened, lifting her head. He placed his hand on the bar, his palm to the air as he told her to lay down on it.

She smiled against his hand as she rested. Her heart beamed at the small gesture.

"But your head comes up when the shot arrives!"

~

With the alcohol at the party plus the after-party at the bar, they were both stumbling on their way out.

"Let's take a second for air!" Y/N said as she inhaled the cold air. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Eddie leaned against the wall as he looked at her. Even drunk he wasn't sure how he felt. Sober or not, he was stuck with the same thing.

The music from the bar vibrated to the outside, and Y/N was in a dancing mood as she sprung off the wall. She reached her hand out and grabbed Eddie's hand, yanking him into her. He stumbled into her.

"Let's dance!" She giggled, holding Eddie's hand above them as she tried to make him spin. He laughed and obeyed, letting her spin him. He tried to ignore how everything continued to spin when he came to a halt. He returned the favor, spinning her around and around. She smiled as she danced with him in the alley of the bar, no matter where she was he made everything better.

She was far too gone to balance herself, tripping over her own foot as she headed for the ground. He was quick to yank her back up, right against his chest. She breathed heavily from the fear of falling, but also from being inches away from his face. Her smile dropped as she looked at his serious face.

She gulped as she felt the tension between them. His large hands on her back made her shiver, and the warmth of his body against her was heaven. He moved one hand to cup her cheek, his mind racing with the thought that if he kissed her, it would all make sense. Her heart raced as he closed his eyes and began leaning in.

She didn't want to wait, holding his face as she brought his face down to hers and crashed her lips against his. He was caught off guard by her impatience but went with it. He moved to wrap both his arms around her as he pressed her against his chest, deepening the kiss.

She felt like she was floating as the kiss turned into a make-out. Both were seemingly heavenly, gripping each other for more as their lips worked together. She shivered as she felt his tongue slowly push into her mouth. She held back a moan as her body was pressed against the building.

Eddie could feel her eagerness as he played with her tongue. He felt a growl in the back of his throat when her hands moved to his hair and pulled. The alcohol made all his decisions. Telling him to rock his hips against hers as they panted against each other. She wanted to go further as his hands moved around her body but she didn't want it to happen while they were drunk out of their minds. But she wasn't going to stop the kiss.

Eddie pulled away, feeling no air left in his lungs. He had to admit that the kiss was amazing. But was it because they were drunk? He tried to find the answers he wanted in her eyes as she fluttered them open. But all her eyes said was to kiss her again.

So he did.

~~~

Eddie didn't remember the rest of the night, but he woke up safely in his bed. His head hurt and his stomach needed to release all the alcohol he consumed.

"I hate being hungover," he groaned as he slowly crawled out of bed. He noticed water, pills and a note on his nightstand. He threw back the pills and grabbed the note.

"Call me when you wake up"

He knew the handwriting and well he spent the whole night with her so who else would have written him a note. He waited until his head and stomach settled before he gave her a call.

~

Y/N felt sick but she wasn't sure it was because she was hungover. After their kiss, she needed to talk about it. She needed to know where they stood and if they were ready to cross over the line.

A part of her was excited. He kissed her and didn't stop it, she figured that meant he realized he liked her. She welcomed herself in the trailer, not surprised to see Eddie wearing sunglasses as he lay on the couch.

He hissed as the sun cracked through the door. She quickly closed it and walked over to the couch. She smacked his legs and he moved them off the cushion, letting her sit.

"How are you feeling?" She asked

"Fucking dead," he groaned as he clenched his eyes underneath his sunglasses. She reached over and removed the glasses, ignoring his dramatic reaction.

"I need you to be serious for a second," she sighed. It wasn't often Eddie was in serious conversations and he never handled them well. "I want to talk about that make-out session we had at the bar."

Eddie shifted in his seat uncomfortable by the topic. He had some time to think about it, even though his head felt like it was being pounded by a hammer. He felt guilty for how he felt because he didn't feel the way she wanted him to.

"Do we really need to talk about it? We got drunk and kissed. Do you know how many people get drunk and do shit they wouldn't have done sober?" He asked, he made the mistake of looking over at her. His stomach turned as a small pout formed on her face.

"So that's all it was. Just a drunken kiss?" She hated saying it out loud. She truly thought the kids would flick the switch and he'd like her back. She spent so much time hoping and wishing she hadn't prepared herself for him not liking her back.

"I'm sorry, I truly am so fucking sorry," he said as he reached over to hold her hand. "I shouldn't have done that when we were both drunk. I hate that I hurt you."

She tried to play it off, chuckling to herself. "Hurt me? Why would a little kiss hurt me? It's fine. We were drunk and I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page about it!"

"But we're not. I know that kiss meant something to you, I know you like me."

Y/N stopped breathing as she looked at him with wide eyes. Her stomach fell and his hand in hers no longer brought comfort. She wanted to deny it but it was no use. She slipped her hand out of his.

"When did you find out?" She asked

"I don't exactly remember. One day I just noticed you were different." He answered honestly.

"So you knew when you kissed me last night? Why would you give me that hope?" Her voice cracked and it made Eddie gulp.

"That's why I feel horrible! I was drunk and stupid. I've been trying to figure out if I could feel something for you and I thought If I kissed you I'd know."

She sadly nodded to herself. The truth was he didn't like her and she didn't know how to handle that.

"And you felt nothing at all?" The small bit of hope in her voice made his heart crack.

"I'm sorry," he said as gently as he could. "I wish I did to make this easier for you."

"You know, I could get over you not liking me. And I would have believed that you didn't want to hurt me. But you knew I liked you and kissed me. You knew it meant something to me and told me you'd never do it sober. You hurt my feelings."

Eddie panicked as she stood up, quickly reaching out for her.

"What can I do?" He begged

"I need space to figure it out," she sighed. "I'll call you," she gave a small goodbye and walked out.

Eddie nervously bit away at his fingernails as his stomach tightened with anxiety listening to the sound of her car peeling off.

Y/N tried to hold back tears as she drove away. She was embarrassed that all this time he knew how she felt and it crushed her to know there wasn't a single part of him that liked her and he wasn't ever going to.

She had to figure out how to move on from Eddie Munson.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

birthday - m. luffy

cw ; FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

happy birthday luffy and happy cinco de mayo for those who celebrate!

@ohagiyoo @ohagiyo hey look it’s your second man

“happy birthday, luffy!”

luffy could vividly remember spending every single birthday of his in foosha village with you and ace, running around and causing chaos all around the town. makino always just laughed and followed closely behind the three of you, four of you on luffy's seventh birthday, when sabo was still here. the mayor would always get mad and claimed that he was going to punish you guys for real this time, but nothing ever happened.

every year ever since you were both only four years old, you would bake luffy a cake for his birthday. for the first few years, you required makino's help for a lot of things. but after reaching ten years old, you were old enough to do most of the baking process on your own. every time it was the end of the day and you were all tired from causing chaos all around town, you would present the cake to him.

luffy always finished it like rapid fire, not without giving you and ace a slice though. at the end of the night, the three of you would always end up tangled in each other's arms, sleeping and snoring in dadan's shed.

this year, though…

“happy birthday, luffy!”

luffy's eyes weren't fast enough to register what was going on, but his mind certainly was. a smile stretched across his face, chopper sitting on his chest with pink cheeks, placing a cotton candy to luffy's lips.

luffy chuckled. “thanks, chopper!” he practically jumped up, finishing the cotton candy rapidly. the rest of the crew were already awake. surprising, since most of them have pretty different sleep schedules. starving, luffy basically floated to the kitchen, where sanji was already cooking something. “meat…” luffy drooled at the thought.

he got kicked out. of course he did.

but as he was running around with usopp and chopper while being an idiot, he suddenly saw a bird carrying a package over his head, and it landed on the ship's railing. strange; there shouldn't be new bounties yet, and none of them ordered anything.

taking his box from the bird's claws and throwing it some jenny, luffy rapidly opened the box to see a letter. but more importantly, underneath the letter, was a neatly wrapped and see-through box of cake. a bit smaller than usual, but it was shaped like meat.

“ooh! ooh! what is it?” chopper asked, eyes gleaming as he jumped up.

“a secret admirer, i bet.” usopp said smugly. “luffy must've had a woman fall in love with him on an island, and--” before he could finish, nami smacked him over the head, leaving a pitiful red welt.

luffy opened the letter first, and a subconscious laugh escaped his lips.

hi luffy!

happy birthday. you're twenty already, that's crazy! anyways, i baked you a cake again this year. it's a bit smaller than usual because of the annoying weight limits, but i made it into a meat shape this time just so it can be a little bit more special. everyone here really misses you. makino's baby is always smiling whenever he sees your bounty poster, and we always catch the mayor being happy whenever you have a new bounty, no matter how much he hides it.

i haven't met your crew, but they seem amazing. tell them i said hi!

love,

(y/n)

and slowly, luffy beamed. the few crew members who stood next to him stared in slight shock, eyes widening. luffy's smile wasn't like when he was partying after he just saved an island. in fact, they had never seen luffy smile like this before. it was so soft and strangely loving.

they really needed to meet you soon.

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after prentiss leaves, someone has to take care of her cat. you decide to share the responsibility between the two of you, leading the people around you to some strange conclusions.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, mini absurd arguments, spencer texting her at 3 a.m. just to infodump about cats (theyre too sweet i cant), theyre completely in their parents era, proof that my sense of humor is silly, diva pov in the final scene!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: this idea was suggested to me in a comment when i asked for fic ideas for the marathon—basically i think two people mentioned something about the return of that little kitten 🫶🏼

marathon masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

Reid, sitting in the passenger seat of her car (her wonderful car…), sighed and closed his eyes.

“You should’ve asked me that when we were still at my apartment,” he muttered. “Then I could have checked. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything—like the litter box, the food…”

“A silk pillow?”

“Since when do cats need silk pillows?”

“Well, maybe other cats don’t, but mine does. The delicate fabric is the best for her fur.”

“And she’s still going to sleep on the shelf in the bathroom. Or the fridge. Anywhere but there. It’s a cat.”

She hesitated for a moment, but decided not to push. A brief explanation of what it was actually about—a while ago, they had both saved a kitten they found on the street. Neither of them had the time or the means to care for it, so it ended up in good hands with Emily. But when Prentiss accepted the job at Interpol and moved to London, it became necessary for someone else to take care of the kitten. Her second cat, Sergio, was taken in by Penelope, but she couldn’t adopt both, so they came up with the idea of sharing the responsibility.

This meant the cat would spend a few days with Reid and a few days with her, depending on their plans, schedules, and simply the time they had. It was a fairly new arrangement, so Spencer was about to take the cat in for the first time, and he felt as though it was much more serious than it really was.

After the first night, she literally came over in the morning to check if all her precious one's needs had been met and if she was well cared for. As it turned out, of course, everything was fine, and since she was already there, they went to work together.

“By the way,” she began, just as Reid reached for the car door (her wonderful car…!), which made him turn back toward her, hand paused midair. “I’m not convinced about that food Prentiss was giving her.”

Spencer barely held back an eye roll. Most of her concerns (and there were a lot of them) were entirely unfounded.

“It was fine. The vet recommended it himself.”

“But it didn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s cat food. It’d be weird if you thought it looked appetizing.”

“We’ll come back to that. Last thing—I had a few things delivered to your place…”

“To my place?”

“Yep. A harness, a leash, a bowl…”

“She already has a harness and leash. And I have bowls at my apartment…”

“Yeah, but these are nicer. Red with gold accents. They’ll match her black fur.”

“I’m genuinely starting to worry about you.”

“Why? Is it so wrong that I don’t want my baby getting laughed at by the other kids for wearing outdated clothes?”

“She’s a cat. Cats don’t laugh at each other for wearing outdated clothes. That kind of mean behavior is strictly human.”

“Say what you want, but I saw those judgmental looks last time I took her out for a walk.”

“You should be teaching your child that her worth isn’t tied to clothes or material things.”

“She knows that. And soon she’ll also learn that her father’s a cheapskate who doesn’t want her to have cool accessories.”

Spencer ended the conversation with a wave of his hand, deciding the level of absurdity had officially gone too far.

“We’re about to be late,” he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

She gave him a wounded look, as if time were a concept he’d personally invented just to get rid of her. Still, the fact remained—they really were about to be late.

They stepped out of her car (her wonderful... ha! Not this time) (...her wonderful car...) and almost immediately ran into Morgan’s surprised stare.

His takeaway coffee cup froze halfway to his lips.

“Since when do you two show up to work together?”

They exchanged a glance. Spencer’s was mildly awkward; hers was completely unfazed.

“Good morning, Morgan. Nice to see you too. That’s usually how these things start,” she replied in a lecturing tone, to which their friend only rolled his eyes.

“Good morning and all that. So?”

Spencer decided to step in, offering his own explanation—he wanted everything to be clear, no misunderstandings, and most importantly, no two weeks of Morgan shooting him those suggestive looks from beneath raised eyebrows.

“She was already leaving my apartment this morning, so we figured we’d just come in together,” he said plainly.

Morgan did exactly what Spencer had hoped to avoid—he shot him a suggestive look from beneath raised eyebrows.

She, too, fixed her gaze on him, the corner of her mouth curling with mild pity.

“Leaving each other’s apartments in the morning…I’ve gotta say, you two surprise me, but I can’t say it’s unexpected,” Derek commented, completely ignoring Reid’s emphatic head-shaking.

Before he could get another word out, he was silenced with a wave of her hand.

“Better not make it worse,” she told him, then sighed and turned to Morgan. “We just have a baby together.”

Spencer stared at her, wide-eyed.

 “And I’m the one making it worse?”

Morgan shook his head at them with a small smile and simply walked off, calmly sipping his coffee.

Naturally, Spencer hurried after him.

 “A cat! We have a cat together…!”

*

Spencer barely noticed Hotch’s arrival or the fact that the whole team had gathered—he was far too absorbed in the book he was reading.

Alex had been a little surprised by his choice of subject, but he’d explained that lately, he’d been reading a lot about cats. That was just the way he was. He felt a constant need to expand his knowledge, especially in areas that directly affected his daily life.

It had been two weeks since they’d taken the cat in together, and while he had grown used to the added presence in his apartment on certain days, he was still learning fascinating things about these creatures—either from personal experience or through books and articles.

Whenever he came across something particularly interesting, he made a mental note of it to share with her later. That is, with his colleague in shared cat ownership. In shared responsibility for Marie. Since they were doing this together, they needed to be equally educated.

And since there was quite a lot to learn, he eventually started texting her things like:

The claws on a cat’s back paws aren’t as sharp as the claws on the front paws because the back ones don’t retract and, as a result, get worn down.

To which he would receive replies like (which gave him a strange internal delight he would never admit out loud):

really?? going to check wait

Only for five minutes to pass in silence—until a new message popped up:

can’t check, she’s sleeping. you should be too, it’s 3 a.m

Spencer mentally bookmarked the exact page and line where he’d left off so he could return to it later.

In the meantime, Penelope stood before the team, remote in hand, ready to brief them on their next case. But before she could say a word, someone else walked into the room—despite the fact that the whole team was already there.

Funny. He’d just been thinking about her.

“I looked into what you asked me about,” she said, her eyes focused solely on Garcia, not sparing even a passing glance in his direction.

Not that it was particularly strange. Even though they hadn’t seen each other yet that day. It’s not like he always looked for her face first, in every room he happened to walk into.

In any case, she handed Penelope a few papers.

“I adore you, I swear,” Penelope gushed, accepting the papers with heartfelt gratitude.

“I know you do. Oh—and I know you didn’t ask for this, but I figured it was worth looking into, and I actually found something interesting. Take a look…”

She launched into something connected to their new case. Reid reached for the case files, flipping through them quickly to catch up with what she was referencing.

His gaze moved in a steady rhythm—from her face, to the page he was reading, and back again—following the cadence of her voice.

At one point, she caught the look he gave her and tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression forming on her face. She didn’t say anything, just kept talking about the case, and their eyes didn’t meet again until she was already at the door.

With one finger raised, she spun on her heel, as if something had just occurred to her. That finger landed squarely on him.

Curious about what she was about to say, Reid straightened in his seat. And then…

“I hope you remember the castration appointment. Six o’clock. You better be there early,” she said briskly before walking out of the room.

Every gaze in the room—unified like a single entity—turned toward his now unnecessarily upright figure.

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the papers in his hands, one drifting to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“We…have a cat now…”

*

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the test results spread out in front of you. Someone appeared at your side, and you knew exactly who it was—even without turning your head.

Over time, you had learned to recognize the people who regularly stepped into your lab—their footsteps, the way they moved, even the sound of their breathing.

This one was new. Quiet, almost shy. He’d only just joined your team, and he was young, with those perpetually shadowed eyes that always seemed to drift around the room in a distant sort of way. Judging by those eyes alone, one could assume he was constantly contemplating the essence of human suffering—and quietly mourning all eight billion souls, one by one.

But truthfully, he had the makings of a brilliant chemist. All he needed was a little more confidence.

“Um, you wanted to see me,” he reported, hands clasped behind his back. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was saying—he usually stood like that until your stare reminded him he looked like a lost calf, and then he’d shift his posture in embarrassment.

“Indeed. Take these to Dr. Reid.”

You handed him the analyzed results, and he gave a simple nod. He returned ten minutes later, once again taking his place silently by your side, waiting to be noticed.

By then, you were already done with your coffee, fully immersed in your work, and you gave him only a brief nod—enough of a signal that he, too, should get back to it.

“Dr. Reid asked me to tell you…” Winchester began, looking even more awkward than usual. “That unfortunately, he won’t be able to take Marie this weekend.”

You sighed in frustration, and he nearly jumped, thinking it was directed at him.

“We agreed to take turns looking after her every weekend. Does he really have to change it at the last minute?” you muttered under your breath, mentally noting to call him and yell — just on principle. Because honestly, nothing was stopping you from taking the cat for the weekend.

But doing it this way was just more fun.

Winchester nodded and started assisting you with your work, occasionally swallowing nervously, as if trying to find a topic of conversation.

He seemed to live under the impression that whenever you were silent, you were probably planning to destroy the galaxy you all lived in — so he always tried to make awkward small talk, which, truth be told, he had no real desire for as a self-declared introvert.

“So…” he began hesitantly. “Her name is Marie? Is that after…?”

“Marie Skłodowska Curie? That’s right, point for you,” you replied, pausing for a moment as something crossed your mind, making the corners of your lips curl up unintentionally. “Although, at first, it was Albert. We thought she was a male. Blame Spencer and his bad vision,” you snorted.

Winchester looked genuinely shocked.

“How...how could you...what about the doctors?” he stammered, still trying to process the situation.

“What's wrong with them?”

“Didn't they tell you that you...have a beautiful little girl?”

“They did. But we thought it was a boy at first.”

“O-okay,” he muttered, suddenly opening his mouth like he had just realized something. “Oh, okay, now I get it. And, well, I admire you. A home birth must’ve been…tough.”

Only then did you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he deeply regretted not keeping his mouth shut, but at the same time, had no idea where he had gone wrong. He scratched his head.

“Sorry if that's a sensitive topic.”

“Our cat would be a sensitive topic?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement because the sheer panic on his face was almost comical. It was reminiscent of Reid’s mortified expression when he tried desperately to conceal that something you did or showed him embarrassed him—though his cheeks gave him away.

“Your…your...I thought...I thought Marie was your and Doctor Reid’s child,” he stuttered, panicking. “And that...I don’t know, you’re divorced or something...should I just shut up now?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if he were battling with himself to close his eyes, as if that would make him disappear.

“Yeah, that’d be probably the best best”

Lmaoo Winchester = Whitaker from the pitt this is exactly what I had in mind while writing