#but I will probably be more sketchy going forward

[void-wyrm]

[cuttle-creatures]

Artfight Week 2:

Firefly for TreesEatLeaves

Therm for AnnaLerahk

Pluto for Flame-Shadow

and Corrupted Sarvael for Tealx!

[oddestoddish]

I’m a little late for the Mew/Two-cember daily drawings due to business, but here’s day one! Mewtwo Odd discovering his love for flight x3

[maikaartwork]

Artists, let’s talk about Instagram commission scammers

There’s been a huge rise in commission scammers recently, mostly on Instagram. A lot of new artists don’t know what to look out for, so I figured this might help people.

How they begin

Usually the scammer will write to you asking about a commission. Something deceptively cute - mostly I encounter asks about pet portraits, with one or two photos sent. They’ll probably try to sell you a sweet little story, like “It’s for my son’s birthday”. They will insist that they love your artwork and style, even though they don’t follow you or never liked a single piece of your art.

What to look out for:

Their profiles will either be private, empty, or filled with very generic stuff, dating at most a few years back.

Their language will be very simple, rushed or downright bad. They might use weird emojis that nobody ever uses. They will probably send impatient “??” when you don’t answer immediately. They’re in a crunch - lots of people to scam, you know. 

They’ll give you absolutely no guidelines. No hints on style, contents aside from (usually) the pet and often a name written on the artwork, no theme. Anything you draw will be perfect. Full artistic freedom. In reality they don’t really care for this part.

They’ll offer you a ridiculous amount of money. Usually 100 or 300 USD (EDIT: I know it might not be a lot for some work. What I mean here - way higher than your asking price, 100 and 300 are standard rates they give). They’ll often put in a phrase like “I am willing to compensate you financially” and “I want the best you can draw”, peppered with vague praise. It will most likely sound way too good to be true. That’s because it is.

Where the scam actually happens

If you agree, they will ask you for a payment method. They’ll try to get to this part as soon as possible. 

Usually, they’ll insist on PayPal. And not just any PayPal. They’ll always insist on sending you a transfer immediately. None of that PayPal Invoice stuff (although some do have methods for that, too). They’ll really, REALLY want to get your PayPal email address and name for the transfer - that’s what they’re after. If you insist on any other method, they’ll just circle back to the transfer “for easiest method”. If you do provide them with the info, most likely you’ll soon get a scam email. It most likely be a message with a link that will ultimately lead to bleeding you dry. Never, and I mean NEVER click on any emails or links you get from them. It’s like with any other scam emails you can ever get.

A few things can happen here:

They overpay you and ask for the difference to be wired back. Usually it will go to a different account and you’ll never see that money again. 

They’ll overpay you “for shipping costs” and ask you to forward the difference to their shipping company. Just like before, you’ll never see that money again.

The actual owner of the account (yes, they most likely use stolen accounts to wire from) will realize there’s been something sketchy going on and request a refund via official channels. Your account will be charged with fees and/or you get in trouble for fraudulent transactions. 

You will transfer the money from your PayPal credit to your bank account and they will make a shitstorm when they want their money back, making your life a living hell. They will call you a scammer, a thief, make wild claims, wearing you down and forcing you into wiring money “back” - aka to their final destination account. 

Never, EVER wire money to anyone. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Use PayPal Invoice for secure exchanges where the client needs to provide you with their email, not the other way around.

You can find more info on that method HERE.

What to do when you encounter a scammer:

Ask the right questions: inquire about the style, which artwork of yours they like, as much details as you can. They won’t supply you with any good answers.

Don’t let the rush of the exchange, their praise and the promise of insanely good money to get to you. That’s how they operate, that’s how they make you lose vigilance. 

Don’t engage them. As soon as you realize it might be a scam, block them. The sense of urgency they create with their rushed exchange, and pressure they put on you will sooner or later get to you and you might do something that you’ll regret later.

Never wire money to anyone. Never give out your personal data. Never provide your email, name, address or credit card info. 

Don’t be deceived by receiving a payment, if you somehow agree to go along with it. Just because it’s there now doesn’t mean it can’t be withdrawn. 

Here is a very standard example of such an exchange. I realized it’s a scam pretty fast and went along with it, because I wanted good screenshots for you guys, so I tried going very “by the book” with it. 

Please share this post, make it reach as many artists as possible. Let young or inexperienced artists know that this is going on. So many people have no idea that this is a thing. Let’s help each other out. If you think I missed any relevant info, do add it as an rb!

Also, if you know other scam methods that you think should be shared, consider rb-ing this post with them below. Having a master post of scam protection would AWESOME to have in the art community.

[mic-qw]

Yandere hacker x reader

Warning: Kidnapping, manipulation, emotional abuse, psychological violence.

They met online. He sent a message, and you replied. From that moment on, you started talking. The chemistry between you was undeniable. You liked the same things, vented together... you could talk until dawn.

He was sweet, but not in an overbearing way. He made you laugh and listened like no one else ever had.

After getting to know each other more deeply, you decided to meet in person for a casual outing. He offered to pick you up, but even though you liked him, you preferred to go on your own—just to be safe. He understood without hesitation.

You agreed to meet at his house. He sent you the address. It wasn't a sketchy place or anything that raised red flags. Actually, it was a nice, ordinary, clean house, with plants at the entrance and a stone path leading to the door.

You rang the bell, and within seconds, he opened the door with a smile. He was wearing a light hoodie, and his hair was a bit messy.

"I'm so glad you came," he said, eyes shining.

He invited you in. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. The inside of the house was neat and nicely decorated, which surprised you a little.

You first sat in the living room. He offered you coffee—you accepted—and you both sat on the couch. The conversation flowed just like it did online. You laughed, joked, enjoyed yourselves.

Once you finished your drinks, he offered to show you his room. You smiled and agreed.

You went upstairs. The hallway walls were lined with framed photos, probably of his family. When you reached the second floor, you noticed it was dimmer than downstairs. His room was tidy, with a few posters and plants. What stood out most was his computer setup—a large, expensive-looking, professional station.

While looking around, something caught your eye: a collectible figure you had seen online weeks ago but couldn’t afford.

“Wow! It’s beautiful,” you said, stepping closer.

“You like it?” he replied, smiling as he joined you. “Then it’s yours.”

You were surprised and immediately declined. You knew how expensive something like that was.

“Is your room always this clean?” you asked, teasing.

“No,” he admitted, lowering his gaze shyly. “I cleaned it because you were coming.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or blush. So you did both.

You sat on some cushions on the floor next to the bed. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees, and you leaned back in a more relaxed pose. You talked about everything. Work or school frustrations, shows you were watching, memes. He listened as always, attentively, occasionally tossing in a comment or a joke.

You felt calm with him. He seemed like a good guy.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up. You nodded.

He left you alone in his room. You sat in silence for a moment, simply looking around. Everything was in perfect order. The plants well-kept, the posters aligned. No tangled cords, no stains on the carpet.

You got up—not out of curiosity, just to stretch a bit. You walked around. Approached a shelf filled with figures, programming books, tech manuals, sci-fi novels...

Then you noticed his desk. A shiny mechanical keyboard, gaming mouse, a closed laptop, and three monitors—all turned off. You wondered what kind of job could afford him all that.

And then... a sound.

A notification.

One of the monitors lit up on its own. Nothing too odd—maybe it was set to do that. But the screen that popped up wasn’t random.

You weren’t one to snoop through people’s stuff. You knew it was wrong. But it was a folder. And it had your name.

You didn’t open it. Didn’t even get close. Just stared at it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it referred to someone else. But what if it was about you?

You stepped forward. Just one step. Curiosity took over.

You clicked. The folder opened. At first, it didn’t look strange. There were subfolders. Some dated. Others labeled: “Voice,” “Photos,” “Chats,” “Favorites.”

You froze. Your instincts told you to sit back down and act like you hadn’t seen anything. But something in your chest twisted, and you opened one of the folders.

Photos.

That’s when the chill hit you. Every image was of you. Screenshots of conversations, pictures you’d sent him, photos with friends or family. But the worst were the ones you didn’t even know existed. One was clearly taken in your room—from your laptop’s camera. You were changing clothes.

You closed the photo immediately.

You opened another folder: Voice. Dozens of audios. You listened to one. It was you. Laughing, singing, saying meaningless things.

You covered your mouth with one hand. The other still held the mouse. Your breathing quickened. Your heart was racing.

You backed out to the main folder. There was another subfolder. No name. Just a number:

"003"

Videos.

You opened one. It started with the interface of a phone camera. It was you—in your bathroom, showering. Singing as you washed yourself. Filmed from above. As if the camera had been placed on the ceiling.

Your stomach twisted. You felt like throwing up.

When had he recorded that? How?

You closed everything as fast as possible—just before he came back.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You spun around. He stood at the door. But he wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes, once warm, were cold now. Empty.

“Why did you touch my computer?”

You didn’t answer. You stepped back.

“I can explain,” he said softly.

Another step back. Still, you said nothing. He stepped toward you—and the last thing you felt was a dull thud to your head.

You woke up to a loud buzzing in your ears and an uncomfortable tightness in your wrists. You were tied to a chair. Ankles, too. The lights were dim, warm. The air smelled of lavender... and metal. It didn’t take long to realize: this was a basement.

Then you saw him.

He knelt in front of you, smiling—just like he used to.

“Finally awake, sleepyhead,” he whispered, like everything was normal.

He gently caressed your cheek with his knuckles. The touch sent a shiver down your skin.

Fear grew inside you. Your vision blurred. Tears welled up.

“Shh... don’t cry,” he said, wiping your tears. “It didn’t have to end like this, you know? But you made me do it, darling.”

His fingers traced the side of your neck slowly.

“Who told you to look at things you weren’t supposed to? To snoop?”

He stood and walked behind you. You felt his breath at your ear.

“But it’s okay... I forgive you. Just because you’re the love of my life.”

He came back into view, crouched down to your level, and smiled. That twisted, sickeningly sweet smile.

“From now on, I’m going to keep you here. With me... forever.”

He lifted your chin with two fingers. His gaze locked on yours—so intense it felt like it could reach into your soul.

“Do you like that idea? Just you and me, my love. No one else. Ever again.”

And without waiting for a reply, he leaned in. His lips met yours—soft at first, almost reverent... but then it turned hungry. Desperate. A wet, possessive kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth without resistance.

You felt trapped. Not just physically. Emotionally, too. Because deep down, a small part of you shivered at that kiss. Even though you knew it was wrong.

When he pulled away, he looked at you with gleaming eyes. His thumb brushed across your lips—now red and wet.

“You’re never going to leave. You know that, right?”

[melodiesz]

The Red Means I Love You ❤︎

Summary: Jason Todd x fem!Reader. You and Jason used to date before you left to stay with the Titans. You both miss each other more than you’d like to admit, but stay out of contact. Fast forward to after he died, you encounter Redhood. Old feeling stir, and before you know it you’re bent over the motorcycle of someone you swore you’d leave in the past.

Warnings: Angst -> smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected s$x, mentions of death & terrorism.

A/N: This takes place right after s3ep2, right after they find out Redhood’s identity :3

You didn’t fully know what was happening; just that there were too many hostages in the building—all who would be killed if not evacuated immediately. You were about to run and help the rest of the titans get everyone as far away as possible before Kory pulled you aside.

You went to protest before she quickly interrupted you, “Go search for Jason.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uhm, what?”

“Look, I have a feeling he’ll listen to you better than anyone.” she said. “Jasons not someone who can be brought down by force. Shit, he came back from the fucking dead, you think he’s gonna let us beat this new…phase out of him?” 

You wanted to argue, but Kory wasn’t someone who was wrong often. She had a good point, and you knew you had to follow it.

“We’ve got this under control,” she assured, resting a reassuring but firm hand on your shoulder. “Go.”

You were skeptical, especially when you could see Gar in the distance shaking in his boots trying to convince an old lady to let him help her down the steps, and citizens clearly getting whiplash from Connor moving them to safety too fast. Your team was…definitely something, but with some hesitance you finally turned and ran in the direction of the one member you wanted to see.

…

“Jason!” You called out, your voice echoing through the barren alley. Gotham was creepy enough already without walking in some sketchy, busted up route in the pitch dark.

You kept calling but the only response you got was your own voice echoing back to you. You tried to scratch your mind for something to say that could persuade him, but you came up blank. Guilt ate at your conscience when you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to him for months before he died. 

To be honest, Jason never had anyone in his life to begin with. He told you that along with all his other secrets, and you still broke his heart. 

You stayed with the titans, thinking he was being naive for not wanting to. You didn’t think about the fact they never once tried to help him, or ever see him as more than an immature kid. They didn’t have the energy to help Jason through his issues so they just abandoned ship, sending him right back to Bruce and his horrible coping mechanisms.

As much as you wanted to be angry at Dick, or Kory or really anyone else for letting that happen, you had to face that you played your part.

Jason Todd died alone. He died feeling like no one would miss him, like he was a failure of a Robin and a failure of a titan. Because even after everything, all he wanted to do was prove himself.

So, yeah. Admittedly the first words you chose to say were not a good idea. Probably should’ve seen that one coming, but you never were too good at comforting him. was anyone?

“It didn’t have to be like this, you can still come back to the titans!” You tried to coax him, almost immediately regretting it. You quickly shut your mouth, tho the damage was already done. You just prayed he wasn’t here—he didn’t need to be provoked into blowing your brains out. 

Only when your muscles stopped tensing and you thought you got lucky, a voice you couldn’t even recognize rumbled above you. It shot ice up your veins and you would’ve frozen in place if you weren’t so adiment on seeing him again.

“Still taking about the titans? Why am I surprised.” He taunted, tilting his head in a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache. When you spun around you were met with someone you couldn’t believe was really Jason. He was standing on some rusted fire escape, a steel red mask boring right through you. 

You tensed, but not out of fear. No, you could never be scared of Jason, not the same nerd who woke up early to make you breakfast or who secretly wore reading glasses. 

You debated messaging him for months after your breakup, paragraphs on paragraphs you never sent. You had so much to say to him before, so why now did your mind go blank?

It was hard to see what he was feeling with the mask, but you could tell he was expecting a snarky remark back. When you just stood there dumbfounded, he sighed. “Look, I’m done trying to prove myself to them. To Bruce, to everyone! I don’t have to be some fucking nobody y/n, and neither do you.”

Now that made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. “‘and neither do you’? What are you trying to do, advertise me the life of crime?”

He groaned, “I don’t know why I ever tried with you. The titans are just a bunch of fucked up people acting like one big happy family, is that what you wanted? Are you happy you made that choice?” He sneered.

There was malice in his tone, but it wasn’t real. he didn’t feel angry anymore, just betrayed.

He would’ve splayed his heart out for you on a silver platter if you asked, just for you to turn your back on him. You followed him in his dreams, haunted him every time he smelt a familiar perfume, even appeared behind his shut eyelids while the life drained out of him. You were a part of him, and from what he knew you’d never looked back when you stormed out that day.

That’s why it shocked him when tears started to well in your eyes. God, your eyes—the ones he would subconsciously buy clothes of in the same colour. “You could’ve came with me,” you whispered. 

Your meek tone broke something in him. His shoulders relaxed and in a blink he leaped down, knees bending upon landing on the hard ground in front of you. Seeing him like this; the mask concealing his identity, various weapons strapped to his thighs and seemingly more toned than the last time you saw him—you could understand why everyone was on edge.

He stood there motionless, a silent and intimidating presence before you. You both stood there in unbearable silence until finally, he lifted his mask off.

His features were lit beautifully by the dim street light, eyes glinting ever so slightly. He looked exhausted—more troubled now, but you knew, despite everything, this was Jason. Your Jason, not who he was manipulated into.

“No, I couldn’t have.” he muttered begrudgingly, “they made that very clear.”

“So what, you just become a terrorist? Is that your idea of solving your problems?”

His fists clenched in barely concealed anger. “Bruce couldn’t save Gotham, so he abandoned it. I’ll be the one to fix it.” 

“By running around in a new suit and planting bombs everywhere? Real great strategy.” You rolled your eyes, but started to blush when you stared at him too long in the plated suit that fit him perfectly. You quickly caught yourself ogling and looked away, assuming he wouldn’t catch the red tinge on your face. 

You don’t know how you ever thought he wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed, it’s Jason Todd.

For fucks sake, the guy noticed every detail about you. The way you’d avoid eye contact when nervous, the pace of your blinking quickening when you were lost in thought, the slight heighten of your voice when you were excited about something. All these tiny things and you thought he just wouldn’t notice the way you eyed him down all red in the face?

Come on, you were basically writing your true feelings out to him in big, bold… ..red letters…

and it’s not like Kory ever specified exactly what to do once you found him… .. .

So that’s how you ended up bent against his motorcycle in some busted up alleyway, pussy spread open on his dick.

You gasped and clawed pointlessly at his covered back; nails clinking uselessly against the metal armour of his suit. 

Your own suit was pulled off just enough to get access to your cunt, panties pulled to the side so he could plunge his thick cock into you.

He was groaning more than he used to, and you could swear you even heard him whine. His pace was ruthless, thrusts messy but coordinated. He kept trying to push further inside you, pressing his body as close to you as possible like you would vanish at any moment. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-“ he rambled. Death heightened all of his senses—made things have so much more of an impact on him. Maybe he just missed you too much, or maybe he let himself forget how good you feel.

To be fair, you were far worse off than him. You would’ve alerted everyone in Gotham if he wasn’t covering your mouth with a gloved hand, though it’s not like anyone here would bat an eye to screaming.

“My poor baby just been lonely, s’that it?”He teased, manhandling you by your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. 

“Nobody to fill up this pretty hole like I do, such a shame,” he pouted in faux sympathy, as if he wasn’t balls deep at the moment.

“I’m back now. Fuck the titans, I’ve always treated you better, haven’t I?” He’s fucking your ability to form coherent words right out of your throat, but he knows your answer when you squeeze around him.

“Jay!” you moaned into his palm. Your cunt was squelching embarrassingly loud with each thrust, thighs shaking so hard you for sure would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up. Every drag of his cock in you hit the perfect spots, just like he remembered you love.

“You don’t even care that I’m red hood, do you?” he asked, his tone full of confidence. “Nah, you don’t. So fucking wet, does my suit get you off princess?” 

He moved his hand to play with your clit, getting it soaked with your fluids. You were too cock-drunk to lie bite back, just nodding desperately and mewling out something akin to a yes.

He smirked. “Pussys sucking me in the same too, fuck- I missed this. I missed you.”

He acted cocky when he was fucking you like this because it’s the only way he was sure you even wanted to be around him. Not much to complain about when his big dick is ravaging you, no?

Deep down he always felt right at home with you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would give up red hood for you. He’d give up anything for you, actually. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him. And he wasn’t letting you go this time.

With the ministrations on your clit and him pounding into you, it wasn’t a surprise when that knot in your stomach came undone quickly. Especially not with how many failed orgasms you had with your fingers, pretending it was him.

Ever attentive, he noticed immediately. “You gonna come, baby? Try not to get any on the new suit.” He winked, as if you were gonna squirt for him. (You have, many times.)

The cherry on top was when he unexpectedly flipped his mask back down and leaned in to whisper right into your ear with that deep voice, “come for me”

And you were gone. You came with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and toes curling. Your pussy gushed all over his dick, forming a white ring around it that you could see every time he slammed his hips.

Seeing your pretty face so euphoric was what sent him over the edge, and grudgingly he pulled out, pearly white cum shooting all over your stomach.

You spent a minute regaining your breath while he pressed gentle kisses all over your throat. He only let up when you whined at the slight pain of the pressure on your newly forming hickeys. He tucked himself back into his pants and re-adjusted his belt. You were wondering if he planned on just leaving until he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.

He moved you so you were set down properly on the back of his motorcycle and then stepped on. You instinctively laid against his back, resting your head on his shoulder and he admired you with pure adoration.

“Wrap your arms around me babe,” he hummed, affectionately rubbing your thigh that was pressed to his.

When your brain finally caught up to what was happening you gave him a confused look.“Wha- wait! Where are we going?” 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Home,” he laughed, “what? Did you think death was gonna do us part, baby?”

[yayasvalveplay]

"Imagine him giving birth during his shift. The mines keeping him safe as he gives birth to a copy of himself."

Poor Orion!!! Imagine being sooo sure you're not pregnant only to be hit with surprise birth while at your lame job </3

Okay I roughly cleaned this up so probably incoherent at points, but copying and pasting right to ya.

Read more fanfic with budding in it, but because theyre usually robot yaoi, that asexually produced sparkling doesn't stay asexually produced for long. Seems like in that case the carrier genes are really dominant but some sire traits come through, especially with more "donations".

In this case, I don't know what path would be more entertaining. Orion pops out a sparkling that looks almost exactly like him, or at some point during the carrying he and Dee interface and that sparkling comes out looking exactly like a 100% pure DPax love child making everyone wonder if Dee's genetics are just so strong it beat out the (non-existent) other sire or if this whole thing was a misunderstanding (true, but not in the way they think) and Dee and Orion somehow interfaced in the very beginning but both somehow forgot??? Fun little conspiracy theory time for everyone to scratch their heads over.

Also, as fun as it is to explore the stations of canon in different ways, it'd be very interesting if Jazz and Prowl, our little investigators, are the ones who somehow stumble across perhaps not the entire truth while looking into who the perp who hurt Orion is but just some of the incredibly sketchy things going on in the broken system Sentinel's created.

Orion's usually the one getting into places he's not supposed to, but he's hyperfocused on finding any scrap of info on the Matrix he can find. JazzProwl? They're on the hunt for a cogged perp that hurt Orion. They're paying way more attention to the cogged bots than they ever have before and are coming across so much crime. So much. How is there so much???

Basically while Orion is having incredibly uncomfortable misunderstandings, Jazz and Prowl have somehow stumbled across at least 20 crimes. None are the one they set out to find. It'd be the beautiful start of a buddy cop comedy bit if it wasn't so concerning.

Also, I know I said Darkwing is a suspect, and my daydreams of this thing go back and forth on whether or not it's fun to explore, but I think it'd be interesting if he actually does some investigating of his own to find out the culprit. Not because I think he's secretly a Good Guy deep inside, but for some possible reasons. One, he's so offended anyone would think he'd interface with Orion he wants to find the actual culprit to clear his name. Two, I'm not sure a miner would be allowed to keep a cogged sparkling? So I'm thinking in cases such as this custody would go to the cogged sire. And with no one coming forward as sire, there's a genuine possibility it'd go the the presumed sire. And Darkwing wants nothing to do with Orion Pax, much less his spawn.

Thank you for entertaining my rambling. Your inbox is a beautiful confessional booth your regulars and army of anons can talk about robot yaoi in.

I was just here for the smut and the rest of you dog piled me.

But ohh this idea just got more interesting.

Though it would be extremely funny for them to interface and for everyone to be like "Wow Dee's swimmers are so strong that they kicked the original sire out."

But also very funny for Darkwing to go searching himself abd uncovering things he didn't know about.

Deep down he was a good guy, just propaganda kept him in line. He tolerates his little miners. But to see one sparked and without knowing who the sire is, and EVERYONE thinking it's him.

He does not want that and plus he wants Dee to quit glaring at him.

So he goes along with Jazzprowl to make sure everything Is running smoothly

Of course they uncover such horrors that the wealthy keep hidden. Not even he knew about.

"Orion is in trouble."

Jazzprowl looked at him shocked.

"Don't look at me like that. I still dislike you all,,, maybe. Less so now. But I'm not going to let my miners get into anymore trouble. Especially not Orion. He does not deserve whatever fate Sentinel has for him."

Imagine Darkwing didn't even know they get their cogs ripped out of them. And now he's horrified with Jazzprowl. And now it's a race agenst the clock to get back to that sector of the mines.

Too bad Orions feeling woosy, and he's cramping a lot. Can bearly keep the saw up before another contraction hits. And soon. He's being led away. Not by another bot. But by the mines itself.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

George Orwell's 11 Rules for the Perfect Cup of Tea

George Orwell:

If you look up ‘tea’ in the first cookery book that comes to hand you will probably find that it is unmentioned; or at most you will find a few lines of sketchy instructions which give no ruling on several of the most important points. This is curious, not only because tea is one of the mainstays of civilization in this country, as well as in Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because the best manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes. When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of tea, I find no fewer than 11 outstanding points. On perhaps two of them there would be pretty general agreement, but at least four others are acutely controversial. Here are my own 11 rules, every one of which I regard as golden:

First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. China tea has virtues which are not to be despised nowadays—it is economical, and one can drink it without milk—but there is not much stimulation in it. One does not feel wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking it. Anyone who has used that comforting phrase ‘a nice cup of tea’ invariably means Indian tea.

Secondly, tea should be made in small quantities—that is, in a teapot. Tea out of an urn is always tasteless, while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease and whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or earthenware. Silver or Britanniaware teapots produce inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though curiously enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad.

Thirdly, the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is better done by placing it on the hob than by the usual method of swilling it out with hot water.

Fourthly, the tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on every day of the week, but I maintain that one strong cup of tea is better than twenty weak ones. All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes—a fact which is recognized in the extra ration issued to old-age pensioners.

Fifthly, the tea should be put straight into the pot. No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison the tea. In some countries teapots are fitted with little dangling baskets under the spout to catch the stray leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually one can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without ill effect, and if the tea is not loose in the pot it never infuses properly.

Sixthly, one should take the teapot to the kettle and not the other way about. The water should be actually boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people add that one should only use water that has been freshly brought to the boil, but I have never noticed that it makes any difference.

Seventhly, after making the tea, one should stir it, or better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing the leaves to settle.

Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup—that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat, shallow type. The breakfast cup holds more, and with the other kind one’s tea is always half cold—before one has well started on it.

Ninthly, one should pour the cream off the milk before using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives tea a sickly taste.

Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This is one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in every family in Britain there are probably two schools of thought on the subject. The milk-first school can bring forward some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting the tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the other way round.

Lastly, tea—unless one is drinking it in the Russian style—should be drunk without sugar. I know very well that I am in a minority here. But still, how can you call yourself a true tea-lover if you destroy the flavour of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put in pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water.

Some people would answer that they don’t like tea in itself, that they only drink it in order to be warmed and stimulated, and they need sugar to take the taste away. To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will ever want to ruin your tea by sweetening it again. These are not the only controversial points to arise in connection with tea drinking, but they are sufficient to show how subtilized the whole business has become. There is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your saucer, for instance?) and much might be written about the subsidiary uses of tealeaves, such as telling fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is worth paying attention to such details as warming the pot and using water that is really boiling, so as to make quite sure of wringing out of one’s ration the 20 good, strong cups that two ounces, properly handled, ought to represent.

Published in the Evening Standard, 12 January 1946

More: George Orwell

[thevanillerose]

LEATHER | DABI x BLIND!READER | MY HERO ACADEMIA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Coarse. Soft. Plush. Hard.

Your world was defined by these words. It always had been. Blind from birth, you were used to being steeped in darkness, but because you had never known anything different, it wasn't something that made you feel bad. If anything, you weren't sure why people felt so sorry for you. Why they would express such pity towards you when they found out about your affliction.

You were getting on just fine, right? So truly...there were people out there who were far more deserving of their well meant concerns than you were. You didn't need anyone to worry over you.

Perhaps the only thing you wished you could have sight for was to know what you looked like. Somehow your parents were a perfect image in your mind, it was as if you could envision them anyway, despite your own impairment. When it came to you personally though, well...you didn't have the faintest clue.

Were you ugly? Pretty? People always claimed it was the latter, but how were you to know if they were lying or not? There was truly no way of telling.

So that was maybe the one thing that did bother you. The rest of it though, you could deal with. You would be alright.

In fact, you were so brave with it that you would walk home alone at any time of night, no qualms about it. Sure, there had been talk of a mysterious killer on the loose lately, but the most you had heard were vague rumors that you strongly doubted held any actual water.

Like hell you were going to get scared!

Once again, you were out in the early hours. Your senses were always on max settings anyway, so if someone happened to be pursuing you, you would pick up on it in a split. However, it wasn't what lay behind you that you needed to worry about.

A few steps forward, and suddenly you bumped into something. Staggering backwards, you immediately registered that it was a person, and instantly doubled over into a respectful bow of apology. “Sorry! Excuse me...I didn't see you there...” It was quite amusing to use a line like that, given that it was rarely so literal.

The fellow turned and cast his piercing turquoise eyes upon you, observing you in silence. The air was immediately tense.

Dabi hadn't been expecting you to run into him out of nowhere. The streets were usually quiet at this time, he'd go looking for trouble in certain spots sure, but those were usually the obvious ones, like your sketchy backwater nightclubs and 'massage parlors'.

One look at you, and he was confused. “...What are you doing out here alone?”

Male...I figured. Judging by his voice...he's probably around my age...

 “I...I usually come out at any time, really. I was just picking up some supplies-”  You held up the plastic bag filled with goodies from the 24 hour mart. He stared at it for a moment, before letting his eyes flicker back to you again.  “It's dangerous.”

 “Well-” you lowered the bag and shrugged, “-I know that's what they say but...if I stayed inside just because I was scared, it would be like handing over control to whatever bad guys are out there. It would be like they were already winning.”

 He quirked a black brow. Interesting take.

 “...You're brave.”  You heard him take a few steps forward, around your side, behind you. Shuddering, you could sense his fingertips gliding ever so lightly against the back of your shoulder, across the nape of your neck and to your other arm.   “How do you know you've not just run into an enemy though?”

 Well now you were really wondering.    “...Because...you're standing out here on the pavement, right by the road. People like that usually lurk in the shadows...”  “It's dark enough out here though.” he stated, as he circled around to your front again, and you could sense him standing closer than before, “There's nobody else around...no cameras watching...just you and me. I could get away with anything.”

 Now the fear was setting in. He was certainly talking like a killer...so could he really be? You swallowed uneasily and tried to step around him, but his hand caught your side and pushed you back, prompting you to drop the bag as you jolted. Those cartons of chocolate milk you'd bought were scattered.

 “Please, I don't want any trouble!” you insisted, and he tilted his head.  “Maybe you should have watched where you were going. Maybe you shouldn't have been walking out alone at night.”  “I-I'm entitled to!”  “So am I.”

 “...You're the killer they've been talking about?”  “Maybe.”

 This was insane. Even you felt like you were being reckless now. However, you needed to find some way to excuse yourself or run from him. You'd worry about calling the police when you were somewhere safe.  Then again, what would you even tell them?

 “Look...I...if you let me go I won't say a word...” you promised, but he simply scoffed.  “Yes you will, don't lie. You're going to file a police report at the first chance you get.”  “No! No I won't because, because I wouldn't even be able to in the first place!”  “...And what is that supposed to mean? You've seen my face, my location, I basically admitted to you that I'm the killer. Of course you can file a report.”

 “...” Telling him this seemed like as much of a bad idea as a good one...but you would do it.

 “...I...I don't know what you look like. I can't see you.”  There was a long pause. Dabi stared at you, blinking a few times, before leaning in just a little bit.  “...Excuse me?”  “I-I said I can't see you. Because I'm blind.”

 That threw him for a total loop. He hadn't been expecting it. Though now that he really looked at you, he supposed that your eyes weren't really focusing on anything in particular, and they certainly weren't looking at him. So, well, he believed it.

 What now?

 “...Okay. So you're blind. I suppose that...removes the problem for me.”  “A-are you still going to kill me?” you dared to ask, and there was another frightening pause, before he sighed.  “...No...There's little point in it. Just another mess I'd have to clean up.”

 Instantly you were almost bowled over by a wave of relief.  “Th-thank you!” you gasped out, and quickly crouched down to find the items you'd dropped. Dabi watched you fumbling for a moment, your hand patting the ground as it tried to find what it was looking for.  

 He didn't quite know why. Perhaps there was just something tender about you, either way, he ended up crouching down to pick up the carton.

 At the very moment he reached out though, so too did you, and for a split second, your knuckles brushed.

 Instantly you recoiled and gasped. What you'd just touched, it was unexpected.  “What was that??”  “Hm? Oh right...you can't see it.” Dabi sighed and put the carton back in the bag but remained crouching there in front of you, examining his own hand. “...My skin isn't really what you'd call regular.”

 Admittedly, you were curious. He seemed to be behaving more calmly and rationally right now too. Would it really be so bad if you asked?

 “May I...touch it again?”    “Huh?” Dabi quickly looked at you, brow furrowing. “...Why?”  “Because I...I suppose I'm just curious. I won't if it bothers you...I've just...never felt anything like that before.”

What am I doing? What am I doing!? This guy's a killer!!   ...Why am I being nice to him?

 Perhaps the better question would have been vice versa. For Dabi actually conceded, brushing your hand with his again and allowing you to gently run your fingers up his wrist. You didn't even know his name, and yet you were crouched on the ground with him, caressing his arm and feeling how rough, tight the skin was...like it had been burned to a crisp.

 “...What happened to you?” you had to ask him, noticing there were hard staples plastered in there too, as if he were some zombie that had been stitched up. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached up with both hands this time, laying them gently against his cheeks and cupping his face.

 His jaw was much the same. It felt similar, like he was damaged. But you could tell his face wasn't unpleasant. He had a good structure, you could tell-  “What are you doing?”  His voice suddenly sounded, a little sternly so, and his hands took your wrists just to guide them down again. Hesitating, you lowered your head.

 “I'm sorry...I act a little rash sometimes...”  “...It's fine. I can tell.” he uttered, but he hadn't let you go just yet. “...But I think I'd rather know about you. How did you become blind?”

 This was such an odd situation to be in. Confessions on a dirty pavement, and confessions to a supposed killer no less. What if you said the wrong thing and he just ended you right here and now? This scarred man did seem to have a cold disposition...but for some reason...you wanted to open up to him anyway.

 “I didn't really 'become' blind, I've been like this from birth.” you explained, and though you couldn't see it of course, his eyes widened.  “...Oh?”

 “Yeah, so...hah...I don't even know what I look like. Sometimes I imagine I must be the scariest thing walking around out here.”

 Dabi's hands slowly slipped away, making you worry. He laid them in his own lap, and watched you. The concerned emotions flickering across your face, like you were suddenly fearful you'd admitted too much. You were obviously nervous around him, but it was like you didn't want to deter him either.

Is he really the killer? I want to run, and yet...I don't.

 His hand slowly extended towards you again. That unmistakable touch against the skin of your cheek, as he let it rest against your face. You could feel his thumb, gently rubbing in a circle. Your hammering heartbeat slowly calmed. You found yourself sinking against his palm.

 “You're a curious one. A bit of a weirdo.” he added, and cracked a smile you couldn't see. Maybe you somehow knew it was there regardless.

 “But...you're pretty too.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[soft--dogs]

I have some more chibi pride YCH designs available! They'll all be the same style when finished, don't mind the sketchiness of the new designs x) These are all $40 per slot, and will be open through June! ^_^ *Please note, my queue going forward is pretty long, so completion dates will probably be towards the end of June and going into July! Some YCH rules: - MUST have ref sheet or image of character I can work from. - Most furry species should work, sorry no human characters! - Any pride flags can go where the rainbow parts are. - Can add additional simple pride accessories - collar, bandana, glasses, piercings, bracelets, etc. for no extra charge. - Simple outfits can be added to all besides the undies chibi! - Final commission will have a transparent background w/ white outline around character. Feel free to edit your comm for personal use! (as an icon, into memes, onto your own backgrounds, etc.) - Payment through Paypal invoice only. - Turnaround time is about one month. DM me if you're interested in grabbing a slot! ^w^

[pascalispunkczechia]

Rules I Break For Him 7

Masterlist for this fic here

I suck in a breath. Trying to process whatever the fuck Javi just dropped on me. Vanessa. That local chick… some random girl working in a sketchy-ass brothel. And the cherry on top? He straight-up left his actual girlfriend at the fucking altar. Like, are you serious right now?

This man - who walks around like nothing phases him - used to actually care about someone. Until he just… didn’t. Then it was flings. Then Vanessa. And now I show up and suddenly he’s in confession mode?

I toss back the whiskey like it owes me money. Burns all the way down. Good. Maybe it’ll shut the screaming in my head the fuck up. He’s right there. Just… watching. Not saying a word. Waiting. Like I’m the goddamn judge, jury, and executioner.

“Uh…” I choke out, immediately hating myself. “So, like… with Vanessa. And all the others. You used condoms, right?”

His whole body jolts like I slapped him. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Always. I’d never… fuck. You don’t need to worry.”

“Shit, sorry,” I mumble, feeling like a bitch. “Didn’t mean it like that. I just…” Ugh. What even is this conversation? What did I think he’d say? That he’s been a born-again virgin waiting just for me? Please. I knew it’d be messy. I just hoped it wouldn’t be this messy.

But truth is? I trust him. God knows why, but I do. And the dumbest fucking part? Somewhere deep in my chest, I want to matter to him. More than anyone else ever did.

I look him straight in the eye. And he just sits there. Looking wrecked. Like some dumb kid who got caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Like he’s scared I’ll just… leave.

I don’t. I reach for his hand. Squeeze it. “Thanks for being honest. Really.” Still wanna ask, why me? Why now? But before I can open my mouth, he moves.

His hands are on my face. Warm. Rough. Familiar. They smell like him - soap, sweat, and something else I can’t name. Then he leans in. And boom… my stomach goes full nuclear butterfly meltdown. Fuck. I hate how much I want this.

I think he’s about to kiss me. But nope. Of course not. He opens his damn mouth and starts talking. “You know… the reason I’m telling you all this is ‘cause I want you to really know who I am. So you can… like… decide for yourself.”

Wait. What? I blink. Hard. What the fuck is he even saying?

He keeps going: “’Cause these last few days? You’ve started to mean something to me. Like… way more than I thought anyone could. You pull me out of all the shit I’m stuck in. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be blackout drunk somewhere, passed out in some shitty bar. But now? I actually look forward to your stupid smile. Your arms. Fuck. This isn’t even me. What the hell are you doing to me?!” He laughs, but it’s awkward as hell. His hands drop from my face.

And I just sit there like he slapped me with a goddamn love confession. I’m important to him? Did that really just happen? My whole body’s like ??? and my brain’s glitching. I wanna scream. Or cry. Or throw up glitter. What even is this feeling?

I grab his hands without thinking. They’re huge. A little rough. Gun-callused. I hold them like they’re the only solid thing keeping me grounded. “I… I feel the same,” I blurt out, before my heart explodes. “Like… what the fuck is this? We’ve known each other for five minutes and suddenly I can’t go a day without seeing you. I came here to work. No distractions. Be a badass, whatever. But now?” I look straight at him. “Fuck it. I want you around. All the time. You make me feel like I can actually breathe. Like I’m… safe. For real.” And there. It’s out. Laid bare. No take-backs.

He smiles. And holy shit - that smile! The rare, soft, totally unfair Javier Peña smile. Hits me right in the soul.

“I feel the same, baby,” he says, voice all low and rough. “I just… don’t always know how to be good at this.”

“Shhh,” I whisper, pressing a finger to his lips. “Good thing there’s two of us then, huh?”

I kiss him - hard. And he’s on me just as fast. Lips crashing into mine, tongue sliding against mine like it owns the damn place. It’s messy, hot, slow, so fucking deep. He’s kissing me like I’m breakable and he still can’t help himself. His hands slide under my thighs and suddenly I’m in his lap, legs wrapped around him, our bodies locked together like we forgot how to be separate.

I moan into his mouth and he growls - low and rough - before pulling back, barely. There’s something hard pressing against my stomach. And yeah, no surprise what that is.

He pushes my hair out of my face, buries his nose in my neck and inhales like a man unhinged. “You smell like coconut again. I swear I’m getting fucking addicted.”

“Yeah?” I whisper. “That’s how your smell fucks me up too.”

Then - chomp. He bites my collarbone. Not brutal, but definitely enough to make me gasp. And of course, he licks the same spot right after. Because he’s evil like that. And we both groan like we’re losing our damn minds. His fingers slip under the straps of my tank and off it goes. Gone. I’m not wearing a bra, obviously, and now I’m basically naked in his lap and he’s just looking. Forehead to forehead. His eyes drop down, and he goes still. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters. “You always kill me with this.”

Then his thumb ghosts over my nipple. Just once. Teasing as hell. I whimper like a goddamn warning shot. He circles. Squeezes. Groans. Then cups my whole breast in his hand like he’s claiming it.

I whine. Loud. Zero shame. All need.

And yep - he gets it. His hands trail down my stomach, slow and warm. He gently pushes me back into the couch cushions to make space, then pulls off my shorts and panties in one smooth motion. He starts unbuttoning his own pants, sliding them down. I watch him hungrily and slide my finger across my clit, slow and deliberate.

“Oh really?” he purrs, pupils blown wide, gaze wild. He tosses his pants aside and leans over me.

Frustration hits me like a truck, he’s still wearing those goddamn boxers, while I’m already completely naked. But judging by the way he’s straining against the fabric, those boxers won’t be staying on much longer.

He kisses me again. Slow. Fucking tender. Like he’s trying to win an award for ‘Softest Tongue in a Leading Role’. His hands slide over my knees, prying my legs apart like it’s the most casual thing in the world. His fingers? Straight-up electricity. Crawling up the inside of my thighs like they’ve got one damn mission, blow me up from the inside. And yeah, mission fucking accomplished. I suck in a sharp breath. Then his fingers find my clit. Just find it like they’ve got GPS, and he starts drawing circles like he’s sketching my death. My own fingers get nudged away like: ‘Nice try, babe, daddy’s got this.’

My whole pussy throbs like it’s synced with a drumline. I dig my nails into the couch like it’ll save me. “Don’t stop. Just… whatever the fuck you’re doing, keep doing it. Please.” I’m begging. No shame.

He laughs. Bastard. Breathless, smug. His thumb presses harder and my head lolls back like I’m possessed. He watches me like it’s a goddamn science experiment. Then he taps one finger at my entrance. Teasing little fucker. Meanwhile, his thumb’s still doing god’s work on my clit.

“You’re torturing me,” I pant and yank him closer. And he kisses me like he’s trying to shut me up. That’s when he slides one finger in. Then two. Smooth. Deep. Precise. My thighs start to shake, and I’m grinding against his hand like I’m trying to fuse with him.

And he’s just there. Smiling. Smug again. His thumb’s going faster. I’m panting harder. My pussy clenches around his fingers, and he moves them, curling like he knows exactly where to hit. We moan together. Yeah. That kind of moment.

And then I come. Hard. Violent. I grab his shoulders and claw down his back like I’m falling off a cliff and he’s the only thing keeping me from disintegrating.

And it’s just his fingers! Just. His. Fucking. Fingers. They’re perfect. Long. Calloused in just the right way. Like they were custom-built for me. But maybe it’s not just that. Maybe it’s because five minutes ago we basically dumped our emotions on the floor and now there’s nothing holding us back. Just him and me. Raw.

“I wanna do this every fucking day,” he mutters into my jaw, kissing me like I’m a secret he can’t keep.

And I’m still lying there, brain in orbit, and I suddenly realize - I came. He didn’t. I didn’t even touch him. Goddammit!

He doesn’t look pissed though. In fact, he looks like he just won a prize. Even with that massive bulge still caged in his boxers. I get caught staring. And of course he notices. He smirks. Peels the boxers off.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. He’s hard, thick, gorgeous. Still gets me every time.

I moan. Loud. His dick brushes my stomach and I reach for him like my life depends on it. My hand wraps around him. Slow strokes. Teasing. Controlling.

His eyes flutter, his hips twitch. I pick up the pace, then slow again. Then up. Then down. I’m toying with him and loving it. He groans - deep, wrecked. “I wanna fuck you, baby,” he growls into my hair.

I nod. Barely breathing. My body’s screaming YES. Don’t ask how I’m still functional after that orgasm. I shouldn’t be. But hey… Javi’s a fucking sex god. And apparently, I’m his personal temple.

It’s fucking beautiful, having him over me. I wrap my arms around his neck, tilt my chin up, kiss him like I own his mouth. He pushes me deeper into the damn couch, like he’s trying to leave a dent of me in the cushions. He spreads my legs or maybe I do. Who the fuck knows. His cock presses against my stomach first, then slides down, between my legs. The tip lines up. My breath catches. And then he pushes in. First just the head. Then all of it.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s big… yeah. But somehow, he fits like he was fucking designed for me. Like we were made to fuck. Exactly like this.

He fills me so completely I swear my soul short-circuits. My whole body’s buzzing. He starts moving… slow, deep strokes. Lifts me up into this half-sitting position that makes everything hit harder. Deeper.

I move my hips like I’m chasing something. Like if I don’t ride this out, I’ll die. His hands are on my back, gripping me, dragging me closer, fucking into me like he means it. I’m moaning like a goddamn porn star. No shame. Not even a little. He’s panting. His skin slick against mine. My body’s tightening around him like it knows exactly what to do. One hand trails down my back. The other grabs my ass, hard.

And then he slams into me. Deep. Hard. All the fucking way.

I feel it the second he loses it. His dick twitches hard inside me, and then he’s groaning. “Fuck, baby!” Right into my shoulder.

Heat floods me. Fucking fills me.

He bites down on my collarbone, like I’m the only thing tethering him to Earth. Like he needs to remind himself I’m real. I’m here. I’m his. His body shudders, low and rough. I hold him through it, feel every last twitch of him finishing inside me, and think: Holy shit. This man. This fucking man is gonna ruin me.

I can tell he just came harder than ever before - with me. The way his whole body shook. The way his cock twitched so deep inside me it left me breathless. And somehow, that thought alone sends me straight over the edge. I clench around him, hard, soaking him in the aftershocks of my own orgasm. Now it’s him holding me.

We stay like that for a while. Just breathing. Skin on skin. Not talking. And then we start to peel away from each other… slow, sticky, fucked-out. We both laugh. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from complete satisfaction and exhaustion. Javi’s laugh is light and soft, and fuck, I wanna hear that sound every damn day.

“Thank you,” he says after a beat. His voice is low, a little hoarse.

I glance up at him. “For what?”

“For all of it,” he murmurs. “For not running off screaming tonight. For believing in me.” He kisses me. Pulls me into his arms.

I press my lips to his shoulder, then whisper: “Thank you for being here. For not letting the darkness take you again.”

He pulls a blanket over us. We curl up on the couch, tangled and warm. And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. Really fucking safe.

Three Months Later

Javi and I… we’re still getting to know each other more and more every day. Whatever that thing was between us at the start? Yeah, now it’s a relationship. A real one. It’s still fresh for both of us. Javier hasn’t had a serious girlfriend since Texas, years ago. And me? I’m just trying to remember how the fuck to trust someone again.

But goddamn, these past three months? They’ve been good. Like really fucking good. The passion hasn’t died down… if anything, it’s gotten more intense. We spend all the time we can together.

Everyone at the base knows we’re a thing now. Maybe it’s because we’re in South America and not some puritanical corner of the States, but no one seems to give a shit that the boss is banging one of her agents. Okay, yeah - there were a couple of dumb-ass jokes. But mostly? People respect it. Probably because we’re still professionals on the job. This is DEA - if you don’t act like a damn professional, you’re out. No room for bullshit.

As for Cali — we made progress. We actually got one of the narco bosses locked up. But of course, nothing’s ever that easy. Now we’re realizing just how deep the corruption runs: local cops, politicians, you name it. They’re all on someone’s payroll.

I’m standing in my office, staring at our board, where the Cali network is mapped out like some fucked-up spiderweb. I’m wearing a blazer and skirt. Tight. Formal. Distracting even to me.

“Babe?” Javi knocks on the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. “We gotta go.”

He kisses me… soft, quick, but fuck, he still tastes like heaven. He always does. He’s in a navy suit. With a tie. A fucking tie. Great. That’s real fucking helpful, Javier. How the hell am I supposed to focus now? Seriously - I still can’t believe a guy like him actually chose me.

“I’m coming,” I say with a weak smile and brush some imaginary dust off his shoulder. “I’m just… a little nervous, that’s all.” And yeah, I have a damn good reason.

We’re supposed to be at the U.S. embassy in Bogotá today. Remember Diego? My ex? The one who cheated on me and humiliated me so thoroughly the entire fucking embassy whispered about it for weeks? Yeah. He still works there. So do the rest of the people who were there when it all went down. And now we have to go in, smile like good little agents, and talk to them about evidence tied to police and political corruption in Colombia. Just great.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Javi says, ever the calm one. “We’re going for work. Not even guaranteed you’ll run into him. And besides, who the hell’s gonna mess with my boss, who took down one of Cali’s top fucking bosses?” He throws me a wink like it’s nothing.

We don’t do secrets between us, not anymore. I told him everything about Diego. Let’s just say Diego’s not exactly Javier’s favorite person on this planet. I scrunch up my nose and make a face at him. He chuckles. He takes my hand in his, firm, grounding, and leads me out of the office. We walk out of the station, climb into the car, and hit the road to Bogotá.

Later in Bogotá

“Good morning,” the senator greets us with a handshake. “Take a seat.” She gestures to the chairs across from her. We sit.

I remember this room, spent more hours in here than I care to admit.

She cuts straight to the chase. They’re not planning to interfere with our work in Cali, of course not… but we should really be careful about the kind of accusations we plan to throw around in front of U.S. authorities. Javi and I exchange a look. Yeah. This is bad. Really fucking bad. As if this day couldn’t get worse - now it turns out even the fucking U.S. embassy might be compromised. Perfect.

“So,” the senator goes on. “I’ll assign agent Ramirez to your team. He’ll travel to Cali with you today and evaluate the situation from the embassy’s perspective.”

I feel a chill crawl up my neck. No. No fucking way. Did she just say Ramirez?

Javi glances at me, brow tightening. I can tell he’s about to say something - probably something sharp - but then there’s a knock at the door.

And the bastard walks in. Diego. Light brown hair, blue eyes, average height. With a sharp surge of satisfaction, I note he’s a good half a head shorter than Javier. And that belly? Yeah. That’s what you get when you spend your days rotting behind a desk, loser.

“Hello,” he says with that smug little sweep of the eyes, like he’s trying to measure what he lost.

A hell of a lot, asshole. Though, judging by the look of him now - I didn’t lose a damn thing. “Diego,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

Javi rises from his chair and towers over him without saying a word. Dominance doesn’t need volume.

“You must be Agent Peña, I assume?” Diego’s voice has that edge - sharp, but fragile.

“That’s right,” Javi says smoothly, flashing a smile that’s all teeth and zero warmth.

“Pleasure,” Diego grunts, eyeing him up with blatant disdain.

Oh, he hates this. Diego always hated not being the only guy in the room women drooled over. And right now, Javier Peña is sucking up every last molecule of attention like a black hole.

“Guess we should get moving,” I cut in, slicing through the rising tension like a damn scalpel. “Agent Ramirez, are you taking your own car or relying on DEA transport?”

“I’ll ride with you,” he replies, lifting the gym bag he brought in and slinging it over his shoulder. Of course he will.

We say goodbye to the senator and walk out.

We pile into the car - Javi behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat, Diego climbing into the back like a third wheel that no one asked for. His bag goes in the trunk. And yep - the entire drive, I can feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head through the rearview mirror.

“We’re stopping at Hotel Casablanca, right?” Javi tosses the question over his shoulder as we get closer to town. Cali’s maybe five klicks out now.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Diego answers flatly.

A few minutes later, we pull up to the hotel. It’s about a five-minute walk from the DEA base, but since we’re headed home, we’ve still got about fifteen more minutes to go.

“Here we are,” Javi says under his breath, already reaching for the door controls like he’s ejecting a virus from the vehicle.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow,” Diego mumbles and hops out, slamming the door behind him.

The moment the door shuts, the air in the car clears like we’ve been released from a goddamn pressure chamber.

“Finally,” I sigh, not bothering to hide it.

“My thoughts exactly. I was starting to worry the trip would never end.” Javi lets out a breath and shoots me a side glance as he pulls away from the curb. Tires roll. Engine hums. We drive home. Thank. Fucking. God.

We stop the car and head inside. My place tonight. We were at his yesterday. That’s kind of how we do it - we switch. And it works. But in the past three months? There hasn’t been a single night we’ve spent apart. Not one.

The second we’re through the door, a rush of affection hits me out of nowhere. I wrap my arms around Javi’s shoulders and hold him tight. Lately I feel like I’m overflowing. Like I’m bleeding love at the seams. But those two words - I love you - we haven’t said them. Not yet. Maybe it’s still too soon? I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.

“Those suits look good on you,” I say, running my fingers over the lapels of his jacket. I tilt my face up and lock eyes with him. Yeah. I know what gets to him. I’ve had three months to figure out every damn switch on this man.

“You look good, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he grabs my hands and kisses me. Mmm. Yep. Nailed it.

I kiss him back, slide my hands free from his, and slowly slip his jacket off his shoulders. While I’m doing that, he’s already unraveling my bun. The jacket lands on the couch. I keep my eyes on him as my fingers untie his tie - muscle memory now. I toss the tie onto the bed behind us. Might need it later.

“Hm,” he breathes out, amused, as his hands go to my blazer and toss it aside too. Then his palms are on my face. And he’s kissing me again. His breath tastes like mint and a hint of cigarette smoke - Javi’s signature cocktail.

Next, his hands are on my white blouse, fingers slipping one button open after another. The fabric slides off my shoulders and drops to the floor.

I shoot him a playful look. He grins and then lifts me like it’s nothing. My legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me to the bed. He sits down. I straddle him. And I start unbuttoning his shirt now.

That chest. God, that chest! I love every inch of this man. Just don’t want to say it before he does. But I shut that thought down fast… no time for emotional spirals.

I press kisses from his lips down to his neck. I can feel his pulse there, beating hard beneath my mouth. His breath turns ragged. His hands are all over my back, unclasping my bra. It slips off and hits the floor. He cups one of my breasts in his hand and smirks.

Yeah. There’s already a hard bulge forming in his pants. And we’re just getting started! “Hmm, so ready for me, agent Peña?” I whisper into his ear, voice low and filthy.

He scoops me up like it’s the easiest fucking thing in the world and stands with me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist again, clinging tight. He turns, lowers me gently onto the bed but I don’t let go. My legs stay locked around him, keeping him pressed tight against me. Chest to chest. Heat to heat. He’s not going anywhere.

His hands run down my thighs and hips. I spread my legs, slowly. He pulls my skirt and panties down in one motion and tosses them on the floor like they’re nothing. I’m naked again. At his mercy. I squirm underneath him, already aching for more.

Javier smirks. He picks up the tie I threw onto the bed earlier, the one I knew would come in handy. And yeah. It does. He gently wraps it around my wrists. “You good, bejby?” he asks, voice low, teasing.

“You know I am,” I purr.

He knows. We’ve tried this once before, a few weeks back, in the middle of our three-month-long getting-to-know-each-other phase. Let’s just say… I’ve got a thing for neckties.

Sure, I can’t touch him the way I usually need to but letting him have full control? Yeah. I’ll take that. Once in a while. Other times I’m probably all over him too much. But right now? Right now I can’t believe this man, this dangerous, hot, tie-wielding motherfucker, is mine.

He lowers himself between my parted thighs and starts kissing the inside of them, slowly, like he’s got all fucking night. Tiny kisses, one by one, closer and closer, until he finally gets there. When I feel his tongue press against my clit, I throw my head back, eyes shut, hips arching off the couch.

Fuck. I love this. Everything else disappears. Diego, that damn embassy visit - gone. All I can feel is Javi’s tongue and every fucking thing he’s about to do to me.

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

FOR MORE FICS -> MASTERLIST

[dollscircus]

Swing first, ask later. Chapter 2

(In my defence , I was trying to help a dog)

Chapter 1

Arkham Knight Jason Todd x vet!Reader

Words: 2.6k

Tags: Violence. Violence against reader. but they're fiiiiine.

Synopsis: You have little impulse control so when you slip through a fence to chase a stray dog, you get a lot more then you bargained for.

-

Maybe I should’ve thought more about those nights’ events going through the next few weeks but I kinda- pushed it to the back of my mind. Listen- being a vet can be stressful when half of the patients want to bite me in the face and sometimes even their bitchy owners want to do the same. It’s a struggle so yeah, I kinda forgot about it. Forgot isn’t the right word- pushed back? Sure. That works.

But back on topic, I was walking down the street during a usual rainy night in Gotham. I had gotten a call from a local that they had stopped a large stray dog wondering around near an old warehouse. They didn’t tell me much, but apparently the dog had been limping so I wanted to get there as soon as possible. The warehouse was old, so I didn’t pay it much mind which searching around for the dog.

Eventually I noticed a little white head poking from behind a dumpster, his fur was messy and dirty. He watched me curiously, I paused for a moment while looking at the dog.

“Oh hey handsome.” I smiled, kneeling down where I stood while pulling a small tub of wet dog food out of my bag. “I’ve got some food for you.”

I popped open the tub and set it on the ground slowly pushing it forward, the dog ever so slowly crept out from behind the dumpster. I couldn’t tell what breed the dog was, clearly a mix of many breeds. He sniffed the air while creeping closer, he was limping on his back left leg. I stayed as still as I could as the dog creeped closer, looking at me with big fearful sad eyes.

“It’s ok buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.” I said softly to him as he reached the tub, sniffing at the food for a few moments before he started to eat very quickly. I chuckled softly while watching him eat, a part of me wanted to reach out and pet him but decided against it.

I smiled softly while watching the dog, but a sudden sound caused both the dog and I to jump. The sound was probably as cat running around in the darkness. The dog scattered away from me with a little yelp, I cursed while watching the dog slip under a gap in the fence that surrounded the warehouse. This gave me a quick but decent look at his back leg. There was a wire tightly wrapped around his leg. The skin looked raw and infected.

“Fuck.” I cursed while gathering up the food tub and shoving it back into my bag. Logically, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that crawling through a fence to a sketchy warehouse is a really terrible idea. Stupid. Reckless but hey, I grew up on the streets of Gotham. I’ve been in worst places.

The torn fence scratched at me a little while I crawled under the fence on my hands and knees, my hips got caught for a moment before I used all of my weight to pull myself forward. I huffed while standing up to look at my dirty hands, grumbling under my breath while wiping my hands on my pants.

Scanning around, I tried to spot the dog luckily I spotted the pup pretty quickly and he was standing by another dumpster watching me.

“Hey puppy.” I smiled while slowly walking over to the dog who was watching me with big curious eyes, I knelt down and offered my hand out with some dog treats. He sniffed my hand, clearly thinking for a moment before he started to eat. I chuckled softly when seeing his tail start to wag.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff. That’s our fancy treats.” I smiled while my other hand reached for the slip on leash I carried in my bag, I made sure to move very slowly while slipping it over his head. He didn’t seem to mind, licking my hand as his tail wagging weakly.

“See? I’m not so scary.” I chuckled softly before another sound startled me, one of the metal doors of the warehouse slamming open. Oh fuck. I snapped my head to look over my shoulder, only to come face to face with a heavily armoured guy, he had a cigarette between his teeth about to light it before he slowly turned his head over to me. I tensed up.

God fucking dammit. The one time my body picked freeze. Thanks.

The next few moments were filled with cursing, barking and snarling. It was mostly all a blur, I think- I bit him? I tasted blood between my teeth, and felt blood dripping down my head when he slammed my head into the dumpster then the scream he let out when the dog sunk his teeth into his arm and wrenched it side to side ripping flesh.

The next clear memory I had was scrambling up to my feet, the leash still in hand (woah 10 outta 10 priorities there) and trying to run away with the dogs whose muzzle was still dripping with blood. My head was spinning with pain as I tried to run away but a sudden white hot pain shot through my calf sending my tumbling to the ground. I looked back at my leg, it seeped with blood. Looking further back I saw the man I just struggled with still holding the gun he shot my leg with.

He shot me. He fucked shot me!? Oh- that mother fucker-

I let go of the leash so the dog wasn’t tied to me and the dog ran away whimpering. I winced in pain while looking at my leg then flickering my eye up to the man while he spoke into a radio attached to his chest. Soon he stood over me, the swirling head pain stopped me from making out what he was really saying. I could see the blood splatter across his face- ooo I bit off some of his ear.

He said something but my head was killing me. All sounds seemed so distant and my head felt heavy. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Please. I begged myself while looking up at the figure. Fear and anger swirled in my chest while I tried to keep myself awake but I was quickly fading.

As everything seemed so distant and painful, another figure was approaching quickly. It was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t make out much. My vision was hazy when the figure swung for the first man, fist slamming into his temple.

Huh. That reminded me of someone?

—

I don’t know what I expected to wake up to when I passed out, I remembered the sound of bones cracking from the figure striking the man who attacked me. I woke up to warmth, warmth surrounding me as I woke up. My body was sore, aching with a dull pain while my heavy eyes tried to open. I didn’t know where I was, blinking in the dull light while I started to sit up in the cot bed I was laying in. I blinked a few times when seeing the dog, I was trying to catch curled up at the bottom of the bed. Back leg wrapped in a bandage.

Confusion clouded a lot of my judgment while looking around, welded metal walls. A desk in the corner of the room covered in papers. I couldn’t make out what else was written on the papers from this distance. I tried to move when pain shot through my leg, I hissed in pain before looking down at my bandaged leg. Where was I?

I glanced over the room again but jumped when seeing him on a chair in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed over his check. The Arkham Knight. I stared at him, thinking back to the last thing I remembered before passing out. The figure. It was him and that punch. He swung with his whole body. I remembered Jason swinging his punches like that.

“You shouldn’t try to move to much yet.” He said after a moment of staring at each other. That almost made me laugh. I frowned a little at him.

“You patched me up.” I said, looking down at the bandage. The criss cross pattern caught my attention. Huh. Memories from my childhood flashed through my mind. Kneeling behind a dumpster while Jason wrapped up my arm after a stray cat I was trapping clawed up my arm painfully.

“I’m not as skilled with my hands as you.” He said, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Why?” I asked, eyes flicking down when the dog raised his head and yawned. Wagging his tail at me. The knight tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

“Repaying the favour.” He said, like it was a very simple fact but I didn’t believe that completely. I moved to swing my legs off the bed, he tensed a little at my movement but I barely noticed it.

“There’s gotta be more to it. You could’ve just dumped me as the hospital or something.” I said, looking down to the dog who started to shuffle down the bed to sniff at my arm. I smiled softly at the dog while reaching down to pet the top of his head. The knight huffed, the sound coming out distorted by the helmet.

“That would be rude to the person you didn’t call the cops of me, when they really should’ve.” He said, voice a mix with amusement and irritation. I suddenly remembered comparing him to a stray dog, embarrassment crept up my neck.

“Then what about the dog? You didn’t owe him anything.” I raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t respond staring at me, I couldn’t read him behind the helmet. Another question lingered in the back of my mind that I pushed away.

“What happened to the guy that shot me?” I asked another question furrowing my brow a little, he didn’t respond at first. I thought he wouldn't answer me at all until he did so.

“He’s dead.” He said, a few moments passed between us. “Does that scare you?”

I thought for a moment, did it? Maybe it was a little morbid. The guy shot me but I didn’t like someone dying.

“Scare me? No, I don’t- like it.” I said, fingers brushing through the fur of the dog. “If you were going to hurt me, you’d have done it already.”

He seemed to bristle a little, adjusting his position on the uncomfortable chair he was perched on. I looked back on my leg before I started to try and pull myself up. “I appreciate the help but I need to go-”

Pain seared through my leg as I started to fall forward, losing balance due to the sudden shock of pain. I cursed feeling myself about to fall but I felt arms bracing against my shoulders. I flicked my eyes up to the knight as he was suddenly leaning over my body as his hands kept me steady.

He said my name, “You can't be moving around on that leg yet.” He warned. I didn't realise how much bigger than me, he was until he was leaning over me and looking down at me. I can't pin point why the way he said my name really clued me in. I can’t describe it. It had a softness to it that Jason even as rough as he could be sometimes always said my name with.

“Well, I’ve never really been the careful type. You remember that, don’t you?” I said, looking up at his helmet. I could see his whole body tense a little. A long moment of silence stretched on. He knew what I was implying.

I know who you are.

“You’re right, you weren’t ever the careful type.” Jason said, his body language tense. Like a spring about to snap. A small smile crossed my face, tilting my head to the side. A few feelings rushed through me. How the hell did Jason become- this? I mean- the whole get up is kinda hot. Woah woah. Let’s not go that direction.

Didn’t know masks did something for me. Let’s not unpack that.

“Jason.” I said, voice slightly hushed while he set me back in the cot. Winced slightly at my leg. He leaned back, not moving away from the cot and just standing over me. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has been. Not how I thought this would go.” He said, taking a little step back after a moment. Jason tilted his head to the side a little, he still seemed tense.

“You thought about this?” I asked, a little smile crossing my face. Jason huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. I could exactly what expression he was making in that moment, the memory of a slightly more baby faced Jason making that exact sound.

“Don’t get all cheeky with me.” Jason scoffed, but he had zero heat behind it. “Even now you’re a trouble maker.”

I huffed, reaching over pet the dog beside me. “That guy attacked me first, I was happy to just walk away.”

He huffed behind that helmet, body language tightening. He turned his face away while he foot tapped the ground in irritation, “You know better to creep around warehouses like that.”

He was right, I sighed while rolling my shoulder uncomfortably. “I know, I was just worried about the dog.”

“You should worry about yourself more.” Jason said. I shrugged while rubbing my arm and scratching at my jaw. I flicked my eyes down to the dog who was now resting his muzzle on my thigh, I looked over the bandages around his back leg.

“Says the man who bandaged up the dog.” I raised a brow at him.

“You’d have been angry if I let the dog run away before anyone could help him.” He huffed, irritation in his voice but it didn't have much real anger behind it.

I let out a very light amused chuckle, looking up at the helment and trying to imagine what his face could look like now. “What happened?” I asked before I could stop myself, wincing at little at my own words. Jason turned his head back to me, even with the helmet I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“Nothing you should be involved with.” He said, that lightness in his voice replaced by some coldness that wounded my heart. I frowned, a look I knew made me look all sad and pathetic. But I knew it would always work on Jason.

“Don’t give me that look.” He said after a moment, I let out a indugnet sound while flicking my eyes away. Jason let out a little sigh before he started to talk again, “Rest your leg, I’ll take you home later?”

I looked up at him as he started to turn on his heal to walk away, I blinked a few times before I hoped my mouth to speak but the words died in my throat. It had been so long since we saw each other, god knows has driven Jason to that point. Nothing good. I watched him leave the little room I was in.

I sighed while sitting in the quiet for a few moments, the dog whined a little to get my attention. Looking down at the scruffy dog, I smiled weakly. “Yeah. He’s always been like that.”

I laid back on the cot. God my body fucking hurt.

[fallenbratfiction]

busy woman ch.3 - Sam Wilson x f! Reader

Last chapter!

Check out the series here!

A/N: it’s been a long time coming! I loveeed writing this chapter and I’m so excited for y’all to see everything that awaits!! As always I hope you enjoy your reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing this for you all.

no warnings are needed for this chapter!! if you think I should add, let me know which are needed.

🔞minors do not interact. I don’t take responsibility for what you choose to do.

don’t copy, translate or claim this story as your own. Thanks

_____________________________________________

You don’t know what you expect when you agree to dinner with him, but you were certainly not expecting this.

Sam meets you outside your apartment, dressed sharp but effortlessly casual.

You raise an eyebrow. "So, where exactly are we going?"

"Come on," he says, grinning as he leads you through the city streets.

You pass through familiar areas, then, you take a turn.

Then another.

Then turn down an alleyway that you aren’t sure is on a normal GPS.

“Are you taking me somewhere to be murdered” you quip.

Sam smirks. “Not tonight.”

You finally reach a door that looks completely unmarked–no signs, no menu, just an old wooden frame. Sam knocks one, says something low to the man who answers, and the next thing she knows, they’re inside the most intimate, luxurious restaurant she’s ever seen. Dim lights, a soft jazz band, and only a handful of tables, all with a perfect view of the city skyline. You look around you, it's the kind of place where the rich and powerful would hide away from the world.

“Okay, How on earth did you find this place?”

Sam smiles at the shocked, impressed expression on your face. He pulls out your chair and takes your coat and purse, hanging them behind your seat.

The least he can do is show some chivalry, you think to yourself.

“I know people,” Sam says simply sitting down in front of you.

You look at him, a million questions about that sentence–but–the mystery of him only deepens. You lean in, lowering your voice. “Oh my god. Are you a drug dealer?”

Sam stops in his tracks. Turns to you. Then just – laughs.

“Jesus, no” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

You stare at him, eyes wide, genuinely debating. "I mean, think about it. You disappear for days, show up all charming, take me to some sketchy VIP restaurant that probably doesn’t even exist on Google—what am I supposed to think?"

Sam shakes his head, still chuckling. “I promise you, I am not a drug dealer”

“That’s exactly what a drug dealer would say”

He gives you a look.

“Alright fine” you sigh, “But if I see anything suspicious, I will be forced to report you. Law and ethics, you know”

Sam smirks, leaning forward. “Duly noted”

A waiter arrives and hands you both menus. The atmosphere settles into a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the jazz band in the back.

You lift your gaze from the menu but quickly look away before he catches you. He does the same, seconds apart.

After telling the waiter your order, you return to the silence.

“So,” you say at one point, swirling your glass. “You never did tell me what you do”

Sam watches you for a long moment, then leans back in his chair. “I told you–I’ll go radio silent sometimes. You okay with that?”

You exhale. “I don’t like being left in the dark Sam”

"I know." His voice is quiet, unreadable. "That’s why I invited you here. Figured if I’m asking you to be patient with me, I should at least show you I’m serious."

You feel the weight of his words and simply nod, unsure of how to respond.

"I meant what I said," he continues. "I’ll disappear sometimes. But it’s not because I don’t want to be here. With you."

You look up at him.

You want to ask more—but you hold back.

Instead, you simply nod. "Alright. But you still owe me a better explanation."

A small smile flickers at the corner of his lips, but he says nothing.

You let the conversation shift, turning to the food instead. "Want to try some of mine?"

Sam seems grateful for the change in topic, his shoulders easing slightly.

He nods, and you lift your fork to his lips.

He takes the bite, hums in approval, then gestures toward his plate. "Wanna try mine?"

Before you can answer, he’s already offering you a bite.

The moment the flavor hits, you nearly let out a moan—but catch yourself just in time.

Still, his eyes sharpen.

You recover quickly, giving him a short, dramatic review.

Sam laughs, shaking his head. "You should be a food critic."

But then—he keeps looking at you.

And suddenly, you feel nervous. Uneasy.

You shift in your seat. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Actually," he says, tilting his head. "You do."

Before you can react, he leans in, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

A moment so small, yet so impossibly intimate.

Your breath catches.

And when he pulls back, wiping his thumb with his napkin, he just smirks.

Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

After dinner, you both start making your way back, but you pause for a moment, letting the night breeze wash over you.

Sam stops too, watching as you close your eyes and smile slightly, just enjoying the moment.

And that’s when he does it.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

He gives you enough time to pull away.

But you don’t.

And then—he kisses you.

It’s slow. Confident. Unrushed.

Like he’s been thinking about it just as much as you have.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you stop overthinking.

When he finally pulls back, he watches you, waiting—like he’s giving you a chance to say something.

So you exhale, a small smirk forming at the corner of your lips, and murmur—

"Took you long enough, Wilson."

He brings you back to your apartment, the air is calm, steady, and charged with something unspoken.

As you reach your door, you expect a simple goodnight–a lingering look, maybe another kiss.

But you see him hesitate. And then before stepping away– He looks at you, something you can’t describe about his expression that confuses you.

“If I asked you to trust me, would you?”

The words settle between you, heavy, impossible to ignore.

You open your mouth but no words come out.

He waits for a second but then gives you a small nod like he already knows the question will stay with you.

Then a smirk,

“Think about it. Let me know, sweetheart”

And just like that–he’s gone.

And now? You can’t stop thinking about it.

______________________________________________

Well shit! Now you’ve got to think about it! Are you willing to stay with Sam despite him being so secretive about his profession? Is it worth the possible risk?

I guess we will find out in the next chapter! 👀 Let me know what you think of this chapter!

Reblogs, likes and comments help this story grow! I’m very thankful for each one of them ✨✨✨

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[nerevarswritingstuff]

Yes, I would love to see your icks🙏

HOOOOO BOY OKAY THEN buckle up kids this is gonna be a LONG ONE. Probably. We'll see by the end of this just how long this list actually is.

For the sake of everyone's sanity, I will be putting it under a read more just to be safe, because I have so many words to say about these things I hate reading. :)

AND just to note, most of these will revolve around LMK fics, or reader-insert fics in general. Just... things that make me drop a fic entirely and never finish it.

HERE WE GO!

Isekai

I cannot, and I mean cannot stand isekai fics. I can't stand isekai stories in general, but in my opinion, they're worse in fics. Nine times out of ten, the character just thinks the new world is better than their old one and forgets about their home. OR, they're panicking and worrying about their family and friends back home and how they're going to get back. Spoiler: This is forgotten after like maybe three or four chapters.

Isekai fics, in my opinion, are just lazy and boring. I've given too many of those kinds of fics a chance only to be sorely disappointed. In an isekai story, I'd like to see more of the plot line where our MC's sole purpose is to go home, no matter how much more colorful and whatnot the new world is. OR they slowly but surely accept the fact that they're not going to return home, and start to just rebuild their life in the new world.

Sadly, I've yet to even find a story like this, and I won't waste my time trying to look for one.

Awful Grammar

AS A DISCLAIMER: If English is not someone's first language and they struggle with grammar, that's fine. The same is said for people who suck at grammar but are trying. Grammar is a nightmare even for native English speakers, I can attest to this.

The reason why this is an "ick" for me mainly because of this: if the grammar is bad but I can still get an idea of what's going on even if there's a few mistakes here and there? I'll still read it. It's fine. But if I can't make heads or tails because the grammar is so fucking bad I'm unable to understand what's going on? I'm clicking off that fic RIGHT QUICK.

This is where I beg. On my hands and knees. PLEASE get a beta-reader. If English isn't your first language, then get a beta-reader who DOES understand English grammar. GET SOMEONE ELSE TO HELP YOU READ THROUGH IT AND FIX THE GRAMMAR. P L E A S E.

Dog Shit Pacing

The plot either goes too fast or too slow. You already know I'm a slow-burn mother fucker over here and I'll die on this hill. But I also like to keep the plot moving forward slowly but surely.

(Which, don't worry, now that the Big Reveal has happened, the pacing for the Show Plot™ will be a BIT faster, but we're focusing on Wukong and Macaque rn)

I'll give a TINY bit of leniency because pacing is hard to master, and even I'm still trying to find a nice point for it, but I don't like pacing that's so fast I get worse whiplash than riding a rollercoaster at a sketchy carnival.

When it comes to slower pacing, I need to stay interested. Give me some hints, some teasers, a few cliffhangers! I dunno man, it just bores me if I'm 15 chapters in and still see no end to the horizon besides Hatsune Miku.

In all seriousness, if you want your pacing slow, then that's fine, but you have to make every word count to keep your readers interested.

MC With No Backbone

I. Hate. This. Trope. I hate reading about OCs or Reader-Inserts that have little to no spine, and just get treated as a doormat. It's not interesting, and it's not fun to just read about a character that's constantly dogged on (9 times out of 10 for NO FUCKING REASON) by the other characters.

I will only like this trope if it's used in a way as character development where the OC/Reader-Insert learns to stand up for themselves in the end. I'm fine with that. Otherwise, kill this trope with fire.

The next point goes off of this point into...

The No-Backbone Character Snaps

This trope makes me mad for one specific reason: EVERYONE MAKES IT INTO SUCH A BIG DEAL. First, it's out of place, and second, every single character is just SOOOOO SHOOOOOCKED THAT THE DOORMAT ACTUALLY TALKS BACK. LIKE HOLY SHIT IT'S NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL SHUT UP AND MOVE ON.

And the FINAL POINT FOR THIS...

"Strong" Characters

Allow me to elaborate on this. You read about a character that's supposed to be strong-willed, sassy, and have a backbone. The complete opposite of the one I was complaining about earlier. Sounds great, right?

WRONG.

Because every FUCKING story I've ever read, these "strong" characters are just badly written. Period. The "sass" is quite literally just being a jerk. The strong-willed goes into that bit, too. They just literally act like a dick. There is a difference.

The most frustrating thing I see is when reading ANY kind of story, any "strong" character, and this is for ANY gender but ESPECIALLY female characters (OC or Reader-Inster), suddenly just... lose any sense of fight in them when around their love interest. They're submissive, they're a doormat, and just let their LI do whatever they want. I hate it.

I'm tired of this, grandpa. I'm so god-damn tired of seeing characters who are portrayed as strong, and out of nowhere when their love interest shows up, deciding to be more aggressive, the MC just crumbles. Stop that. Just stop. Seriously.

(The "no backbone character suddenly snaps" bit also applies to this.)

MC Can Do NO WRONG, APPARENTLY?

This is especially bad in LMK, but holy shit, guys. Calm down with this bullshit of "MC is the perfect person and everything they do is perfectly fine but the second someone does it to THEM suddenly THAT PERSON IS WRONG AND DUMB AND AWFUL!! >:("

Why do you think I make Nibby the way they are? They're right a lot of the times, sure, but they're equally WRONG a lot of the times, too. They make mistakes, and they own up to it. They fuck up. They do good, and bad. They. Are. Not. Perfect.

I'm so fucking done with seeing MC's (Reader-Insert or OCs) being treated like they know everything better than everyone. I'm so FUCKING done with MC's being treated like perfect demure little princesses even when they're the ones who are wrecking shit. They can do no wrong? Shut the fuck up and get out of my face with that.

CONSTANT, and I Mean C O N S T A N T POV Switches

This is mostly for writing and not really in any kind of comic or drawing aspect, but holy shit.

I've said this before in my little writer tips thing, but oh my actual lord, I cannot stand when we can't stay with just one character's POV for more than two paragraphs. I'm begging on my hands and knees, just stay with one character for at least half a chapter or an entire chapter. We do NOT need to know what everyone is thinking immediately. Just. Stop. STOP. AAAAAAAUGH.

ENDLESS. ANGST. TRAIN.

Oh my god I talked about it in my writing tips ask before but let me tell you something, guys. I genuinely hate it when angst doesn't stop. THE BEACH EPISODE IN ANIME EXISTS FOR A REASON. IT'S A BREAK FROM ALL THE BULLSHIT THE CHARACTERS GO THROUGH. PLEASE JUST STOP. LET THEM HEAL.

Before y'all try to be all "oh but Nerevar, you've written angst!" Yeah but did you forget I also write the healing that comes after? The growth of the characters that come AFTER their angst episode? Yeah, didn't think so.

I've read so, so, SO many fics that have had just... non-stop angst and it gets so tiring and beyond boring reading it. We get it, they're suffering. Can we please get to the healing, now? P L E A S E?

Hating Wukong for NO FUCKING REASON

This is mostly because of those annoying ass Macaque stans who will blame Wukong for everything that happened to Mac and call him horrible. Need I remind you Mac was willing to kill MK in episode 9 just to get Wukong to fight properly? Mhm, yeah, now sit back down and shut up.

I cannot stand this unnecessary hatred for a character that's actually morally grey and complicated with complex emotions, thoughts, and feelings. And it's always, always for the dumbest fucking reasons. Has he made mistakes? Yes, but who the fuck hasn't. He, just like everyone in the show, grew as characters.

And speaking OF Wukong...

Making Wukong Stupid For EQUALLY NO REASON

Oh my actual LORD I hate this so fucking much. One little joke between MK and Wukong has given birth to my least favorite headcanon in this fucking fandom.

MK: Can't read? Wukong: Uh... I get stage fright.

And now everyone's pointing and laughing at Wukong like "LOL HE'S SO ILLITERATE HE'S DUMB HE'S A BIG STUPID IDIOT"

We're not even going to go into the actual JTTW Wukong, this is SOLELY on the LMK version.

Ok, so, if he's illiterate and can't read or write, then how in the fuck did he write that letter to MK in episode 3 of season 2?

PROOF INSIDE THE PUDDING.

WOW SO ILLITERATE. SO DUMB. VERY LOL.

Like, have we watched the same show? Wukong acts stupid to lighten the mood. He knows how to take shit seriously, he knows how to turn off "funny guy" mode and enter serious mode.

I am the number one Wukong defender and I will NEVER STOP DEFENDING HIM NONE OF YOU CAN KILL ME IN A WAY THAT MATTERS.

Anyway, yeah, I hate that headcanon and y'all can keep that shit far, far away from me.

Six-Eared Macaque's Six Ears

Hoo boy here's the fun one. I have lost count on how many times I've seen this dog shit trope, and every time I see it another one of my brain cells die. If you're caught up with my fic, and have read chapter 35, then you already know that my version of Macaque is not bothered by loud noises such as thunder or fireworks or the like.

Why?

BECAUSE HE'S NOT A FUCKING CHILD.

"Oh, but Nerevar!" I hear you cry as I sit in my rocking chair. "He has six ears! He hears so much more than the normal human! Wouldn't that mean he'd hate loud noises?"

I'm sorry, are we seriously debating if the several thousand year old monkey can handle a little bit of thunder or fireworks? Are we seriously going to baby this actual adult?

Whether we go down the route of "muffle magic" or not, this man has had SEVERAL MILLENNIA to train his ears to handle such noises. Would some still annoy him/bug him? Sure. Yeah. But to render him completely inconsolable and lying on the ground clutching his ears and crying out in agony? Yeah, no. No. Get off my lawn and stay off my property.

(I also hate the follow-up trope of Macaque suddenly getting noise-cancelling earphones from the MCs. I seriously just don't get it. It's happened in every single fic I've read before. I don't get it and I don't want to because I hate it it's stupid.)

The Infantilizing of Literal Adult Characters

This is where some of y'all really start to piss me off. The only characters who are the youngest in this god-damn show (and are STILL LEGAL ADULTS) are Mei and MK. Before you try to come at me like "oh but on [insert unreliable website here] it says they're this age!" That's not confirmed.

Their ages are never fucking confirmed, that was just a fan-thing.

More fucking proof before you try to "UHM--ACTUALLY" in my dm's. Try me. You will lose this battle. Fuck off.

AND YET Y'ALL STILL WANNA INFANTILIZE THE LITERAL ADULTS. I will not give any leniency here. I hate this. I hate it so much that the minute I see any motherfucker treating the characters (Wukong and Macaque ESPECIALLY) like literal children, the desire to commit violence rises. They are not your precious little uwu babies you can coddle. They're actual adults. Please go touch grass and learn how to interact with society. I would LOVE to watch you talk to a real life adult the way you would to Wukong and/or Macaque in your dumb ass baby talk and see what happens.

Wukong, as goofy as he is, would hate to be treated like that.

Macaque would despise it.

Stop fucking infantilizing them. They're adults.

This is also especially bad with MK just because he acts more like a kid than the rest. Almost like he is, but he's still a legal adult (at the very least 18 bc that's the legal driving age in China) and should not be treated as such. He wouldn't mind people caring about him, but there's a difference between caring and coddling.

Allowing Macaque To Be The Asshole But Not Wukong

Get out of my house. Right now. I love Macaque and Wukong so much, you know this. I have a whole damn fic about how much I love them both. But what I will not stand for is this DISRESPECT TOWARDS MY MEN. Oh, little Macaque can do no wrong because he was ~*~twaumatized~*~ but Wukong is the awful person for saying a few things wrong?

Fuck off. :) Don't ever talk to me. :))

Macaque is an asshole. So is Wukong. They're both complex characters with complicated ass stories interwoven with one-another and y'all playing this "X is better than Y" bullshit annoys me. This is half the reason why I hardly ever interact with the fandom at all. Because some of y'all try to force these head canons down my throat and it makes me want to beat you with a broomstick.

Conclusion

This is honestly all I can think of off the top of my head. But yeah. These are all the things that make me never want to read a fic. In all honestly, it's half the reason why I stopped reading fanfics entirely, not just from LMK but other places. They're just so bad and each one is worst than the last.

I will never say no to fic recommendations, nor will I hate on anyone who LIKES the fics that I don't like, or even hate with every fiber of my being. You do you, my word is not law. We can enjoy our shit and still be chill with each other. Just don't try to force me to like something I hate. Please and thank you. <3

[annakie]

I Tripped and Took a Dive Into Another Life - Part Five

I hit a major goal, found out some new information, and made some adjustments.

Previous Posts 1 through 4 in this Series

Discussion of weight loss within.

Onederland

This week, I did this:

For the first time since probably high school, possibly college, I found myself under 200 pounds.

In the weight loss community, they call this Onederland. I've been looking forward to this since... well since I started I suppose. It's a major milestone. And I'm so fucking happy about it.

I mentioned in a previous post when I hit 299 I cried on the scale. I think since at this point I was really confident I'd hit this goal and it wasn't a "holy shit I really can do this" moment like 299 was. I didn't get as weepy-emotional, but I yelled something like "FUUUUUCK YESSSS"!! before taking pictures. I am still extremely proud of myself.

Of course, it's not over yet. Still going.

But I did definitely take a moment to celebrate, and brag on myself a bit to the people who care for me about this. :)

Scan-dalous

On the same day, Saturday, I had my first DEXA scan.

I really wish I would have stated getting these earlier! If there is one thing I would have changed about my journey, this woulda been it, just do DEXA scans starting near the beginning because I am SUCH a data nerd about how I've been going about losing weight and I LOVED getting all this data SO MUCH.

A DEXA scan is basically a deep scan of your body that gives you actually accurate information about what's going on inside of you for several metrics. It's fast, and safe, and turns out, very cool.

They're not that expensive, turns out about $40 to get one done once a quarter. The place I used, https://www.bodyspec.com/ , operates a lot of their scans out of vans! Keeps costs down, and they have regular places they park all over the city. So I did one near me this last week. I was a little worried it was going to be sketchy, ya know, going to a van in a parking lot, lol, but they have permission to park where they go, and the van itself is really nice. It didn't feel sketchy at all.

The scan is just laying still on a cushioned table for about 5 minutes, didn't feel claustrophobic at all.

And about an hour after it was done, I got my results.

OK look it says I weighed 202 pounds but I'd eaten and was wearing clothes at that point haha.

But it's so cool because it tells you how much fat you have, vs. "lean mass" like muscle and organs, and your bone mass.

There's a lot of deeper-dive charts that they sent me, and the complete X-ray looking scans that shows the locations of your lean mas vs. fat, tons of info. This is just the overview dashboard with the important stats.

So it turns out I'm basically she-hulk for a woman of my age. I have extremely high lean mass, which means a looooot of muscle compared to most near-50 year old women. I'm in the freaking 94th percentile! That's CRAZY. My bone density is pretty freaking great at, better than 78% of women of my age, too.

Only 68 pounds of me is fat now, or 34% of my weight.

And the scan's report says for a woman of about my age I want to get that down to 20 to 25%, which I would prefer to get that to 20%.

I'd had a goal weight of 145 but that might be unrealistic, because I'm just too damn muscular with pretty dense bones. So I've revised my goal weight up to 160 for now. When I get there, I'll do another scan (and likely at least one in between then and now) and go take it to my doctor to see what he thinks.

So right now I supposedly only need to lose about 40 more pounds, instead of 55.

That's crazy to me. That's so little. And yet, to be in the healthy range considering how strong and dense I am, that's it, according to the scan. Like honestly I was starting to get a little discouraged with how little my calves had shrunk but it turns out that's because my calves are mostly muscle already. Most of my weight is still in my stomach, with a decent amount in my thighs and butt. But it's all shrunk, once I get those 40 more pounds off then... I don't even know. I can barely picture it.

So yeah, I gotta highly recommend DEXA scans y'all. An amazing tool. I absolutely love having this reliable deep knowledge about what's going on inside my body.

Oh also knowing my RMR is 1860? That means I can do fuckall but lay in bed all day and burn 1860 calories, that's really great knowledge.

Of course, I definitely don't do that.

Working Out

I joined the gym near my house a couple of weeks ago!

I did "virtual" tours of all the gyms within like a 2 or 3 mile radius of me a couple of weeks ago, trawling their websites and google reviews/photos people put up. And after comparing a few, this one in particular had a few things going for it:

it was probably the closest with the least annoying drive

It was pretty big and the facilities looked nice

It has a dedicated women's workout area!

The Woman's area is basically big enough to have one of every machine, one full rack of dumbbells and a smaller one to the side, a deadlift area, a mat area for stretching/body weight, and a small cardio theater with stairs/treadmills and bikes, and it's dark in there with movies playing. You can also get to the woman's area from the woman's locker room, so basically I can walk to the locker room, put on my headphones/gloves, do whatever else I need to, store my gear, and walk right to the woman's area. There's also a sauna in the locker room. No showers, which is a bit of a bummer but the only thing I didn't like. I mean, I can shower at home anyway.

The price is pretty good (it'll end up being like $350 a year). And the rest of the gym is big and nice and if I felt like I needed to work out there, I think I'd feel comfortable with it.

I've been a few times, less than I would like but there's been some circumstances happening, and every time I've enjoyed it. The other women there are nice but everyone keeps to themselves mostly, the equipment is mostly maintained (there's one machine broken in the WWA) and there's always someone around cleaning.

Before the DEXA scan I was worried that I'd lost muscle mass despite my 125 - 150g of protein I eat every day, turns out I didn't need to worry!

But still, I want to keep that muscle. I plan on trying to go twice a week for weightlifting. I've mostly made that happen, but haven't pushed as much as I'd like yet. Still kind of rolling into it.

Along with that I'm still VERY MUCH doing daily cardio, except for a day or two where I had good reasons to miss. Including today. Well, I did about 15 minutes today on a lighter workout but I think I slept wrong because I've had a pain in my shoulderblade all day and it felt worse after doing a quick cardio workout in Supernatural, so I am giving myself a mostly-rest day today.

Aside from that... I've done a tiny bit of yoga?? I've owned a yoga mat for a loooong time that was still in the wrapping. I was feeling really tight and crampy a few days ago so at lunch I was like "Let's... try this." I found a 10-minute beginner yoga youtube video, laid that yoga mat out in front of my computer and tried the yoga with the nice lady in the video.

It wasn't bad! I've done it again since! I enjoyed the stretch, but I think I'm definitely going to get more practice with Youtube videos before I'd dare leave the house to try yoga.

My gym doesn't offer yoga classes anyway, but maybe someday I'd seek one out. They do have cycle classes, and since my back is still a limiting factor I am thinking about trying one of those out one day since it's, ya know, mostly sitting.

Friends!

I now have two friends on the Medication Journey with me! I'm so happy and excited for both of them, and it's been SO NICE having other people to talk with about it! Talking about it in these posts have been cathartic but having someone else going through it to chat with is GREAT, and I get to give Tips and all, and listen to them take their first steps! It's been so encouraging for me as a friend and to be able to share my experiences as i listen to them talk about theirs!!

If you're on the journey and want someone to talk to, talk to meeeee!

Medication Notes

I've bumped my dose of the medication up a bit. Hopefully won't need to any more before I get those 40 pounds down and then will move back down in dose so I can successfully eat at a maintenance calorie amount every day (I definitely could NOT eat that maintenance amount now, jfc I couldn't imagine unless I started eating a lot less healthily!) Apparently my maintenance calories is supposed to be like 1800. I'm still doing around 1400 - 1500 and most days that feels like sooooo much.

But like, this is how i eat now:

That's a pretty typical day.

I've mentioned I'm on compounded tirzepatide and things are CRAZY in that world right now, most companies who make it are going to have to stop like, Wednesday. And some are saying they're stopping, some think they can get away with not stopping. There's a lot of drama. I've got a good stockpile to last me a real long time so mostly I'm sitting back and watching the drama unfold feeling pretty secure.

Annnnd that's about all the news from the Annakie's Weight Loss world.

This btw is the video to the song that I use for the title for these posts. I listen to this song almost every morning to remind myself that yes, I deserve to be well, and though the struggle the song is about is more depression, it fits really well for a health journey in general, too.

Oh wait, one last thing.

I couldn't really wear this shirt until now. I'm like 12 years past where I bought it, but I'm wearing the HELL out of it now! It's not the best picture of me, I meant it for just a couple of friends, but hey, who cares. :D

[yamssg00]

Haikyuu x Reader Oneshot!

(this is my first mini fic but trust I WILL be locking in.)

001 - Bokuto Koutaro x Reader “{Cliche}”

Valentine’s Day was just like any other day. At least to Y/N. They didn’t seem entirely too interested in the romantic semantics and it irritated them to see so many people gushing over meaningless gifts. That was until a forward, white haired with black frosted tips boy approached them with a simple bouquet of flowers and a minimalistic box of chocolates.

.

Fukurodani High School - 10:30 A.M.

.

Bokuto took a meaningful step forward to force Y/N to accept his chocolate and flowers. It was Valentines Day. Or, Love Day as some might call it. He stopped her in the hallway after spotting her coincidentally heading in the opposite direction from where he was going. “Please, take them?” He was aware of their growing distaste for the holiday, although he couldn’t help it.She hardly spoke to anyone in school, and it bugged him that she was so...distant from her peers. Bokuto’s hands hovered below Y/N’s after she held the two gifts in her hands with an irrtated expression. He seemed awfully proud of himself so he put his hands on his hips and smiled. Bokuto has been plotting on Y/N since the day he saw her at one of his games but for some reason she always shut him down before he got the chance to speak to her. Today was his chance to make his big move. “How would YOUU like to join me for a nice night out? I’m sure you aren’t doing much, are ya?” He asked. Y/N looked up at him like he was crazy. What the hell was going on? She never got asked out. It was too sketchy to believe.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You can drop the act,” she instructed him. He seemed visibly offended, or at least trying to mock the feeling with his express. Y/N just didn’t believe for one second he was doing this out of the pure goodness of his heart. It was probably a dare or something. Students at their school messed with her like that a lot so she found this hard to believe.

“What are you talking about? I’m asking you out here,” Bokuto raised his hands as if that would make him sound more convincing. This girl was stubborn for no reason at all. She had tough wall up that he suddenly made his internal mission to break down, no matter what. He wasn’t sure why she was so guarded and hard headed and it sort of made him pity her. Realizing she barely had friends was what made those feelings rise in him. (Why’s he clocking your tea..).

Y/N took a step forward and shoved Bokuto his gifts back to which he grunted as they hit his chest. She gave him an annoyed look and pulled her phone out. She expected nothing but a stupid prank, but still some part of her wanted to go along with it and see where it would lead.

Bokuto interrupted with a murmur and he pulled his own phone out. “Give me yours,” he only did this because he knew she wasn’t going to text him first, so he would be the one to do it. She recited her number and he typed away with a concentrated expression on his face.

Y/N rolled her eyes and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She wasn’t interested in the gifts, and that much was clear when she attempted to walk away. Bokuto stepped in front of her and smiled like a stupid idiot. “Ah, ah! Your things!” He gave her the bouquet and box of chocolates before watching her storm off with them in her arms. Cute.

When the school day finally ended, Bokuto made sure to shoot Y/N a text. Practice was cancelled today since most of the guys had dates to go on tonight and excitingly, so did Bokuto.

BIG B, (mb) — Hey, it’s Bokuto! 😊

Y/N aka nonchalant dreadhead — hey

BIG B — Soo how were the rest of your classes? Did anyone ask you who the handsome lucky guy was that gave you that stuff?

Y/N aka nonchalant dreadhead — no what do you want 😭

BIG B — Well we’re going out later so I wanted to make sure I had the address so I know where I’m going! 😂😂😘

Y/N aka nonchalant dreadhead — WHAT?

Bokuto

I never agreed to anything

I’m not going

Read 6:51 PM

Was he serious? Y/N didn’t want to act all stupid and get her hopes up for no reason. She was torn between just blocking him and ignoring him, or sending him her address to see if he’d actually show up or not. In a way, she wanted to believe he was pranking her. Things like this didn’t just come to her out of the blue.

Big B — So,the address?

Y/N threw her head back and groaned. There was no way she was doing this right now. She began typing in her address in the chatbox her thumbs hovered for so long over. “I swear if he playing a prank on me, I’ll kill him.” She mumbled to herself while setting the phone down on her desk and getting up to get dressed. What does one even wear on a “date”. She’d never been on one. Y/N sighed and put on casual clothing. She wore a fitted crop top with high waisted jeans, white sneakers, and minimalist jewelry with a light jacket to keep it comfortable.

For some reason, she went to check her phone and she saw a few new messages from Bokuto. Y/N hadn’t saved his number yet so she almost thought it was someone else until she clicked on the message.

bokuto — on my way!

bokuto — Lots of traffic, I’m gonna die on this highway.

bokuto — 5 minutes!

With another one of her notorious eye rolls, she snatched her phone and stuffed it into her pocket, gathering a few of her things she needed. Lipgloss and a charger were some of them for example. She put them in a small little purse when she heard a knock at her door. Y/N’s denial set in and she took her purse with her to the door. When she opened it, there he was, all dressed up and spiffy looking. (Hehe I love that word)

“Y/N!” Bokuto spoke with an excited tone of voice, although he seemed nervous as he adjusted hit clothing in less than a minute. “All ready to go?” He asked her with a head tilt, offering his hand to her as he watched her step out of her house and close the door behind her.

Y/N just nodded, but didn’t take his hand. He noticed that and just gestured for him to follow her. Bokuto waddled over to the passsenger door and held it open with a grin on his face. “After you, ma’am,” He cooed, a teasing vibe to his smooth but excited voice. Y/N scoffed and she murmured a ‘thanks’ before getting in his car. He practically ran to the other side and entered the driver’s seat with a happy sigh.

“You don’t gotta lock your door?” Bokuto asked Y/N, to which she just shook her head.

“No, it has a smart lock,” Y/N replied as she smoothed down her outfit and reached over to grab her seatbelt. Once it clicked in place, Bokuto grabbed the gear shift and started to reverse. He hummed in response and nodded. “Ouuhh, fancy.” Finally, they were on the road. The silence between them was awkward enough, but the radio played in the background.

“So where are we going..?” Y/N questioned.

“Arcade!” He cried, glancing at her for a reaction. How cliche.