#it's like!! yeah he fights!!!! yeah he's excellent at it!!!

[bothoutsiders]

i've been thinking- what if jason still doesn't like tim at all, but he gets so obsessed with him, that he ends up knowing tim even better than he knows himself. he knows his morning routines, his favorite food and drinks, what he's allergic to, his favorite bands (why he has to know about music? idk, but he knows. he did his homework), he knows what kind of social media content he consumes (and likes or bookmarks), that when he's too sleepy and exhausted, he might even not even swallow the sip he took from his coffee, and instead he just spits it back, or how he leaves the ice cream tub back inside the fridge with a metal spoon inside of it, because he forgot to take it out (he forgets every time).

jason knows all that, and he is like, so obsessed with him, that when tim goes out in a mission with his "little group of friends", jason still keeps tabs on him. he's not present, but he knows what tim is doing, who is he fighting. and whenever he catches himself on why he's doing that, he "lies" to himself saying that he needs to know the enemy. he needs to know him so well, so when he attacks, gets rid of him, and then destroys (emotionally) bruce, he will know he did an excellent job. i also say he ""lies"" because he isn't even sure of why he's doing it, but he doesn't want to entertain the question for too long.

and maybe, subconsciously he has claimed tim as his prey, that when someone has a bounty on tim's head, jason already knows and is already hunting whoever tries to hunt red robin, because tim is his prey.

but everyone, including tim, they "know" that jason hates him. he did beat him that night, he made things clear-- but that was their last interaction. they don't know that when tim is in actual danger, jason has some plan b, c and d for him. because of course, he's not a baby sitter and he won't be chasing him like a stalker when he goes out to work as red robin, but jason is smart too. he doesn't want anyone finishing his job. yeah, you can punch red robin, kick him in the face, jason isn't worried for a few broken ribs. he is completely aware that tim can fight back, can take those guys and send them to the hospital-- but when things are serious. when its about life and death... jason is ready.

maybe some nights he is there, around, casually. not because he planned it. he just had things to do around the same city. ofc.

tim was unconscious and thrown out a building, but for some reason he was found tucked away somewhere safe. who did that? tim was being attacked by two criminals out front, and for some unknown reason, someone (who he didn't know was behind him) exploded! what happened? who knows! you can bet your ass if tim needs a kidney transplant, he will even have where to choose from.

... maybe this is me retelling that old idea i had but in a bit of a different way of how jason falls for tim and woos him in his own twisted way.

[august-anon]

Badger's baaaaack! 🦡🦡🦡

Hide and Go Seek tickles are absolutely a regular for BatFam game nights. Usually, Dick counts to 50 or 100 or something, and sometimes the speed he counts varies, so his siblings know to take off and hide. And of course, whoever he finds is tickled and without mercy. He typically has a designated amount of time, like 60 minutes, to find all his siblings.

Otherwise, they come out of hiding and gang up on him instead. Dick is ridiculously great at scouting out his siblings hiding spots which causes them to get more creative, but there are times once the timer goes off and Dick still hasn't found everyone and he knows how screwed he is when his siblings come after him. Usually, he will try to hold his ground by tickling the snot out of the first to ambush him until he can't fight them off anymore. Dick doesn't stand a chance being gang tickled by his younger siblings. And even if he swears his vengeance on them, there are times he intentionally doesn't find all of them during Hide and Seek even though he knows where they are just so they will turn the tables and tickle him, even though he won't admit it. Lol.

Jason usually seeks the sibling to have pissed him off the most recently, but when hiding, Dick is impossible to find. Sometimes Jason takes off and leaves the manor after targeting one (or more) of his brothers, and if he knows he has no chance of finding Dick, he just leaves. Which Dick doesn't back down from a one sided tickle fight with Jason, so he had stalked Jason home from the Manor after game night, snuck through his window and tickled the snot out of him for leaving early and cheating at their Hide and Seek rules.

Badgerrrrrr!!!!!!!! My mammalian friend!!!!!

I love it whenever someone sends me hide and seek tickles headcanons sdjfsdfjh its so so good, excellent trope, excellent ideas, always always lol. i will never get tired of hide and seek tickles omg

I LOVE THIS WHOLE CONCEPT!!!! Love that the seeker (usually Dick seemingly) tickles them as he finds them lol. As much as he tickles them no mercy though, I imagine he must be swift, efficient, and ruthless in that though if he only has an hour to find and tickle ALL those siblings lol

i think the ones most likely to give him a run for his money are Cass (obviously, lol) and maybe Tim. All of the bats are hypercompetent, but Tim def has intense hypercompetent vibes, i feel like he'd be good at stealth sdkjfhdf. But yeah if he's losing (without meaning to lose), then it's definitely one or both of those two for Sure lol

and he SO would try to fight back, so true!!!! The first sibling crashes into him, trying to tickle him to the ground, and Dick barks out a laugh but instantly targets their worst spot(s) in an effort to take them down and manages to get them on the ground instead. A second sibling crashes into the two of them, trying to help the first weaken Dick, but as ticklish as he is, he's also a stubborn bastard (aren't they all, though, dskjfhdf) and he manages to flip that sibling over his shoulder and onto the ground next to the first. Now he's got a hand on a kill-spot for each of them, but they got four hands on him and he's quickly losing ground even as he's got them cackling and squirming and kicking. and then a third sibling latches on, and fourth, and so on, and Dick is piled on and pinned down and tickled everywhere he's most ticklish and he's squawking and cackling and hysterical and squirming like his life depends on it but there's no escape from a pack of bats and birds lol

AND NOT JASON MAKING A RUN FOR IT SDKJFHSFD THATS SO FUNNY -- Dick makes sure his tickle attack is ruthless and merciless enough that it makes up for the lack of a group attack. Though I bet sometimes Dick invites a sibling or two (or all of them, if they can stay stealthy enough to sneak past another Bat) to stalk Jason back to his safehouse and make sure he takes his forfeit like the rest of them do lol

THANK YOU Badger for the headcanon!!!! i adore this!!!!

[wildsaltair]

I could write an entire thesis on how Maximus is so husband-coded and how different he is from other action heroes of, before, and after his day. he is so timeless because his qualities go so far beyond the generic, and I want to stand on a mountaintop to explain this in painstaking detail to the whole world

[scatterbrainedbot]

Hello :D

You're so cool

Anyway have you thought that in your rat sons au Splinter might outlive the boys?

You're very cool :D love your stuff dude

(tw for some blood, light gore, implied overdose (kinda??))

hi copper!!! this is a fantastic question!

so obviously typical irl rats have far shorter lifespans than the average irl tortoise. according to google (yes, be awed by my spectacularly in-depth wealth of research) the average pet rat lives between 2-4 years ish, and the oldest on record lived to be about 7. meanwhile, an African spurred tortoise (Splinter's species) averages more around a 50ish year lifespan in captivity, tho is suspected to possibly exceed 75 or more in the wild.

Now, the mutation does give us a lot of wiggle room for playing with these numbers. For the rat sons boys, id say their natural lifespan probably clocks in at about 45-55 years old? definitely not old by human standards, but not young young either. (though, its also important to note that the boys were exposed to the mutagen just days after being born.)

For Splinter, meanwhile, aging is slightly more complicated. He lived the vast majority of his life as a regular normal African spurred tortoise (well, non-mutated at least. there were perhaps some shenanigans of a more mystical variety going on before he was mutated, but thats a separate matter) He was about 70ish i think? when the boys were born and they were all exposed to the mutagen. so he is already distinctly an old man turtle papa. id guess he'd probably still have another eh lets say 25-30 years after his mutation. he could probably push it a little farther even with some mystic nonsense, but when push comes to shove id say his 'natural' post-mutation lifespan would put his death like a solid decade or two before his sons.

of course, the tricky part of the matter is that theres no way for Splinter to know any of this. theres no way for him to know how the mutation affected them all, or if it even affected them all in the same way. especially since the boys dont show many physical signs of mutation for the first few years, and just kinda look like normal rats, (albeit with a more human sort of intelligence) — what sort of health standard do you hold them to? what if they simply dont show external signs of sickness or old age anymore? how do you actually know if something is wrong?

for a while there Splinter is very worried that one of his babies will just essentially reach the end of their normal rat lifespan, fall and not get up again.

so mostly, he just tries to live in the moment, enjoying whatever time he does have with his little ones, taking each day as a gift <3

still,

that fear

never

really

goes

away.....

[amaranthdahlia]

god i will never stop fawning over how absolutely SPECTACULAR afo vs bakugou was. genuinely one of the best fights in the entire manga in terms of art, the themes, the pararells, the gayness, the fight itself, and just. everything about it makes me wanna scream into my pillow and chew on it

[wahbegan]

It's a bit creepy the way they keep making Batman villains anti-authoritarian cult leaders whipping the disenfranchised up into violent mobs these days innit

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it

[gwydionae]

I get using no specific iteration of the TMNT in a crossover and just making yet another new version. After all, the franchise has had many, many different versions at this point, so it's easy to accept that this is simply one more to add to the pile.

But Naruto has... one. Just the one. So when all of a sudden characters are written/shown to have expertise that they shouldn't have at the age they're being depicted, it just ends up feeling weird.

I get that fitting things into the Naruto timeline can be a chore. Do it too early, and Sakura is kinda useless. Do it too late, and Sasuke's off murdering people. And if you try to set it after the series, the power levels are seriously gonna be out of whack.

But breaking the only canon that has ever existed for these characters makes them feel like... not the same characters. I might be the only one who cares about this, but it really took me out of the story, to the point where I couldn't help but focus on it. I don't want to be distracted from page one of a silly ninja crossover comic.

[whistlingstarlight]

Okay No Way Home is old news now ik, and I do still find it a very fun film but uhhh few things that could've vastly improved it (for me specifically):

1) Topher Grace Venom but the scrapped skeleton concept (or as I like to call him, SkelEddie). Explain it away with the same reason Sandman doesn't make himself look human read: don't explain and hope the audience are too excited to notice

2) Alternatively, either of the Harry Osborns. Would be interesting to see Norman interacting with either his Harry or a Harry from a different universe

3) Either way, one extra character means Sinister Six and that's always fun :]

4) Using the Doc Ock Walk rig the Spider-Man 2 crew made to make the (admittedly few) times Otto walks using the actuators in this film have some weight and believable movement to it

5) Hot take but make Electro blue again. Or at the very least have the power of the arc reactor revert him back into energy again (have him still be yellow though, different universe so different energy and all that)

6) Literally do anything with the Lizard. I honestly forgot he was there occasionally-

[talentforlying]

ROMANTIC GESTURES

bold for always applies, italics for potential / it depends.

holding hands (in public) · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love · long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · taking cute pictures in a photobooth · sharing a taxi / uber · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · getting tickets of their favourite artist / sports team / other · introducing them to their parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · star gazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument / sport while gently guiding their hands · compliments · late night drives · taking selfies together · drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them their favourite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · mixtapes / playlists · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to their apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes (VERY rare) · tucking a hair strand behind their ear · running after them at the airport / keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight (verbally / physically) · joint bubble baths · dropping the L-bomb ("i love you") · dedicating a song at the karaoke bar to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · grant them the last bite (from meal)

tagged by: @shilohgreen tagging: you!

[navybrat817]

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. “Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kleem-o]

I can’t stop thinking about Obsessive Ex Boyfriend!Sukuna. You and him were together since highschool, which shocked people, but at the same time they kinda get it. Sukuna was your typical asshole, and you were a spoiled high maintenance princess. Oh don’t get me wrong though, you weren’t just all bark, you were all BITE too. Top of the class and excelled at sports (well it was passable). But the same also applies to Sukuna, both of you fighting for the top spot in academics (you always won) and sports (he always won). You guys were such an oddly cute couple, always bickering.

“Kuna go get me some snacks in the cafeteria please!”

“Damn brat go do it yourself!” *still proceeds to go buy you snacks without hesitation*

But you guys weren’t always bickering, behind closed doors he secretly LOVED being babied. You guys usually have cuddle dates in his room with his door locked (he learned to lock the door after his baby brother Yuji suddenly entered to borrow his switch)

You would lay on your back with him on top of you, burying his face on your neck.

“I love you so much, who’s my good boy?”

“I am.. ‘love you..”

You would let your hands play with his hair and caress his back, and he feels like he’s literally melting. He’d be damned if anyone else saw him like this, he’d rather die.

Now here’s where it gets tricky, you guys graduated highschool and are now off to college, unfortunately you guys are going to different colleges (which you both had a fight about) but are still in the same city.

The little bickerings became actual fights, not caring where you guys were (yours and Sukuna’s poor friends are traumatized).

But extreme lows comes with extreme highs, when you guys made up or behind closed doors, you and Sukuna act as if a fight never happened.

“I love you so much baby” Sukuna always makes promises of undying love, in hopes that you would understand that even though you guys fought a lot, his love for you will never change.

But then after one fight (shhh i might make a fic about this if yall want) you broke up with him.

His world was shattered. But being who he was, his pride was too high to give in (or at least in the outside)

He would pretend that he was fine when clearly… the voice messages he sends you at night says otherwise.

“Ha! Yeah, I don’t really give a shit anymore, ‘m too busy getting fucked over by exams anyway.”

“Hey baby, please can we talk? I really miss you and I’m sorry please, give me one chance please, I love you”

“Yoo bro, you okay? You’re pretty wasted” Gojo says as he tries to take Sukuna’s drink in his hand. “Fuck off, ‘m fine..” Obviously he’s not, he had way too many shots even for someone who had high tolerance, the lights of the bar was making him dizzy, and his empty notifications despite his numerous voice and text messages to you were starting to make his eyes blur with tears. Gojo saw this and threw their other friend, Geto, a look.

They both had a hard time trying to haul Sukuna in Gojo’s car, with Sukuna deadass crying talking about I need her back, she can’t do this to me, we aren’t over, I love her. He kept yelling too, about bringing him to your place instead of his. So they called you and you agreed to have him over because its dangerous for him to be alone in his state (totally not just because you miss him, and lowkey want to see him wasted and crying lol)

They brought him to your unit and left telling you to call them if you need help with anything. The moment the doors closed Sukuna hugged you tightly. “Please..please come back to me.. make me yours again please.. I-I love you please ‘m sorry..” He was literally sobbing on your shoulder, with you patting his back.

“Okayy big guy let’s go to bed” You did your best to clean him up and you both laid on your bed, with you staring at the ceiling and him staring at you.

“Are we back together?” You laugh and looked at him “Hmmm… I’ll think about it, maybe if you beg me in the morning.” Sukuna’s eyes teared up a bit and he smiled. “Can we cuddle for tonight?” You can sense how careful he is with his words, it would be very out of character for other people, but you, and only you, knew that this is how he always was. “ Of course, c’mere.”

Sukuna hurriedly wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face beneath yours. He tangled his legs with yours and took a long breath. It smelled like home. He is home, and tomorrow everything will be okay again.

a/n: idk what this is lol i really just needed to get it out of my system 😩 want to write more about this dynamic, the asshole x spoiled brat type shi, like finally someone rivals the energy of the asshole 😩 and also this might be insanely ooc but its ok bc its fun 😚 and also this is just how he is with reader! (totally not just an excuse)

[mewfistoe]

You feel needy for cuddles but don’t want to disturb Sylus from his work.

This is just completely pointless indulgent fluff. idek

————

Sylus is in the middle of a business conference when he notices the door to his office crack open. He knows that it’s you immediately, no one but you would risk disturbing him in the middle of work. He watches as you peer in before carefully stepping into the room. You close the door slowly and take small quiet steps toward his desk.

He’s about to disconnect his camera and mute his microphone to ask you if you need anything, but you shake your head, and put a finger in front of your mouth to make a hush motion.

Once you reach the side of his desk, you crouch down and crawl over to the side of his chair. Sylus stares, wondering exactly what you have planned. He watches as you scrunch yourself up and forcibly shove your body underneath his desk, squeezing past his chair. You shift around under there for a bit until you finally settle down in the little space between his feet, facing away from him.

You proceed to wrap an arm loosely around his calf and rest your head against the inside of his knee. He hears you let out a soft satisfied sigh and sees you pull out your phone, set it on silent, and start up a mobile racing game. He stretches a hand down to stroke against your hair and you gently push your head against it to get more contact.

The conference can’t end soon enough.

****

Twenty-five minutes later, his business is finally concluded. He shuts off his computer and looks down at you, still half-curled up around his leg.

“Kitten? What are you doing sitting down there? That can’t be comfortable.”

You keep playing your game, wanting to finish one more race. “I missed you.” You say, looking up at him briefly, “Felt like cuddles, but you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you.”

His heart squeezes in his chest.

“I’m never too busy for you, kitten. You can bother me anytime. I Iike it when you ‘bother’ me.” His hand slides down from the top of your head to cup your cheek and he smiles, “In any case, my meeting has concluded and I’m all yours now.”

You finish up the race on your phone and smile back. You turn your head to press a kiss against his palm. “Wanna cuddle in bed? I finished my race!” You turn your phone screen to show him.

He looks at the screen declaring you as the first place winner and lets out a light laugh, “Should I compliment you?”

“Yeah.”

His rubs his thumb against your cheek, “Well then. Good job, kitten. Excellent racing.”

He gently pushes his chair back before setting out to extract you out from under the desk. He bends down to take your phone in one hand and pick you up with his other arm. You wrap your arms around his neck and tuck yourself snugly against him. “Comfortable?” He asks, and you nod.

He doesn’t say anything else but you can tell that he’s pleased and walking in the direction of his bedroom.

****

Once in his room, he lays you down on his bed carefully and places your phone on the bedside cabinet next to you, before heading over to close the door.

You make a small whine as he walks away from you, “So far away, Sylus…”

He chuckles, “It’s just for a second, kitten. Are you really that needy?” He teases.

You respond with another frustrated whine.

He sighs in response, but there’s only resigned indulgence behind it. He’s already walking back towards you, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. And he sits down on the bed next to you with a small smile.

You smile back at him, “Yay, you’re back.” And suddenly he can’t help himself. He bends down and presses kiss after kiss against your face.

“You are completely spoiled…and so demanding. But how can I resist when you say and do the sweetest things.” He says between kisses, “You’re so cute. You’re so cute I can hardly stand it.” He punctuates his words with a gentle bite at your cheek.

You giggle and try to pull him down so he’s laying next to you. He acquiesces without a fight.

You return his kisses with your own. Peppering them wherever you can reach. “You’re the cute one, Sylus. Look at your pretty pink face! So so so cute!” You say.

He flushes more at your words and gives a small snort, “Nobody but you would say that I’m ‘cute’, kitten.”

You give a small huff, “That’s because they’re all stupid and don’t deserve to see how cute you are.” You cup his face with both hands, “I don’t understand how anyone can see your handsome face and not want to kiss and cuddle it.” You press a kiss against the tip of his perfect nose, “See? Look at how cute and perfect you are!”

Sylus laughs throatily and wraps his arms around you to hold you close. He’s so charmed. He kisses the top of your head, “You’re so silly sometimes. I love you so much, kitten. You’re everything.”

You move to smush your face against his neck and press another few kisses there too, “I love you too, Sylus. Very, very much. You make me so happy.”

You can’t see his face from your position against his neck, but you don’t need to. You already know that he’s smiling.

[gay-dorito-dust]

bob reynolds/sentry/the void dating headcnaons where reader is apart of the thunderbolts and a magic user (dark magic hehe)

I did too much for this I fear and went beyond request…I don’t apologise.

it wasn't hard for you to look into Bob's eyes and not feel something when you first met him, a sweet soul of a man, someone whom you'd gladly protect if it meant seeing him smile so sweetly.

Yelena was the first to notice your growing fondness for this seeingly unasuming man with the puppy eyes, and was already ontop of teasing you for it whenever she possibly could.

'you've barely known this man for a mintue and you're already feeling something for him?' she says with a raised brow, 'does dark magic make someone such a hermit that they fall for just anyone with pretty eyes?'

you shrugged. 'dark magic tends to be the breaking factor for most relationships, so i guess you can say that it had made me a recluse because of it and i'm not falling for bob, he's just-'

'a mission?' Yelena interupts with a knowing smile. 'you can't lie to me, you kinda suck at it.'

'how can i suck at lying? i'm not lying!' you exclaimed

menawhile Yelena jsut points to your face 'your face give it all away before you even open your mouth.' she replies as she walks away and you're left with your face deep into your hands as you tried to stop thinking about bob, and his cute smile, his gorgeous eyes...fuck.

yeah so that plan to not feel more for bob then you already did orignally, especially when you got to know him more and see just how much of a sweet and genuine person he truly was.

it made you a little skeptical at first but soon enough bob did indeed win you over with his kindness and ability to uplift you from your less then stellar thoughts that would float in now and then unnanounced.

you soon found that all bob wanted was to belong to something, to help others and to do good by people and you could unserstand that as well, you wanted to belong also like many people and find what it was that you excell at.

sure your magic gave you alot of leverages in life but most fellow magic users didn't react kindly when the person who helped them harboured dark magic, however it wasn't like you were using it for nefarious means like stealing anothers life force, or their powers.

unfortunately there was an bias against those who were posessors of dark magic, they were often called conjurers of chaos and destruction, fated to bring about ruin and death even if they used their magic for good and so you used your magic sparingly despite being proud of your abilities.

'why don't you use your magic more?' bob once asked when it was just you and him after a mission, he must've noticed your minimal usage of magic during the fights firsthand, so your theory of him being more observant were proven true when now and then you could feel his eyes on you as some points during the fight.

'not much reason to if i'm going up against average people.' you tried to use as an excuse but from the look on bob's face , he wasn't buying it, so you caved and told him the real reason. 'black magic isn't widely praised, it's still misunderstood by many magic users who probably rejoice at the fact that they don't have to deal with the critisim and judement that comes from being born with dark magic, as though i had a hand in making that decision at all!'

'why bother listening to them and hiding what makes you unique.' bob says soflty as he grasps your hands securely within his own stronger ones. 'i'm told that your one of the powerful few of the group, told of what you've achieved with your powers and i don't see how can people still think of you any difffrently becuase of how your magic is formed.' he adds before whispering. 'it's beautiful.'

'what about you?' you then asked, making him look up at you with a look that reminded you of a confused pup, head tilted and all that you had to stop yourself from rubbing his furrowed brows free of stress, free of worry and guilt that could be swarming his mind. 'your a uniuqe case yourself, powerful and yet you seem to be holding back.' you add as you squeeze his hands back.

bob shrugs. 'same as you i guess,' he starts, 'wanting to use my powers for good, to use my abilties for something instead of standing on the sidlines like an toy waiting to be used, only to be put back on the shelf when people are done with me.' he continues as a sad smile crosses his face, somwthing that made you want to hold his face and do anything you could to bring back his warmth back. 'is it so wrong to be seen as something more? to be proven useful?' bob then looks you in the eye as he says his next thing. 'to find someone who makes me feel more then what i am right now.'

you swallowed thickly as you contiued to look into his eyes that seemed to read you like a book, like he understood you and everything you were and wanted to be, like he was the only person you'd allow to be your voice of reason. 'i'm sure we can be that for each other, only if you want me to.' you said.

bob's face relaxed as his smile came back in full force, his warmth bringing you comfort once again as he squeezed your hand, tempted to intertwine your fingers but not wanting to overstep a line that he couldn't see. yet you didn't seem to have the same aprehension in intertwining your fingers with his as you found yourself wanting to take this first step into a bright future with bob.

'i'd like that very much.' bob says softly and all felt right, even the weight of his hand resting within yours, a comfrting weight that told you that he was here for you, and that he wasn't going to be easily persuaded into leaving you any time soon.

being in a relationship with bob had to be a dream come true, he was the sweetest man you've ever met, that even his kisses that he'd pepper across your face when waking you up in the morning was like you were being kissed by a million butterflies. he made you feel as though you could walk on air without trying, for he made you feel as though nothing could ever touch you as he held you from behind as his grip on you was protective yet comforting from all your daily worries.

'will you stop being so cute?' you asked him once as you held his face between your hands, caressing his cheeks as you kept kissing his temples, his nose, his forhead and lips under the impression that you would never do so again, and you never wanted to stop showering your powerful boyfriend in kisses and affection that he had went far too long from without. 'you're too handsome to be this cute and distracting.' you added as you pressed a final kiss to his eye lids.

'should i be taking this as punishment for being a handsomely cute or an reward for being handsomely cute?' bob chuckles as he sinks futher into your embrace of love and finding himself never ever wanting to leave this moment, not ever. 'becuase i'm not certain what i'm meant to be taking away from you blaming me for being cute yet kissing me as though your praising me for it.'

'does it matter?' you asked with a smile upon your face. 'you're getting kissed either way.' bob laughs and got himself comfortable within your shared bed. 'reward it is.' he says cheekily as his timed himself perfectly so that when you went to kiss his nose, your lips would touch his, making him hum in content.

bob was your person, the one you'd always admit to anything to as though he was your personal confession booth, for you knew he wouldn't look at you any differently even when you over use your dark magic, he still looked at you with love and affection becuase you look at him the same.

you were aware of the void and would do everything to keep it away from bob, to keep it away from taking over the man you loved so deeply and without needing any reason to other then he deserved it more then anyone you know. The void would try and convice you to unlock darker corners of your power, to use them against the people who have wrongly judged you as you both made shadows out of people who crossed your paths.

yet you refused for your heart was with bob, and that would never change even when the void claimed that you were very much in his possession as you were bob's and there wasn't much you could do to stop it before leaving you be with bob as you held him in your arms, vowing to use all your powers to keep the man you wanted to see the end of your life with together safe as possible. unkowing that bob would vow to do the exact same for you without hesitation.

On missions you try not to worry about the other and focus on the objective but it was hard, yet you both knew that the other was tough enough to handle anything, power through all hardships with willpower and determination, and yet the moment either of you came back with even a slight scratch your holding onto each other as the fear of losing the one thing grounding you from completely losing it all consumed you both from the inside out.

You’d rush to one another and press your foreheads together as bob allowed you within his thoughts, allowing this moment for you two to be focused on one another as your fears and anxieties relaxed as the familiar feeling of comfort was brought back as you whispered words of reassurances to one another. ‘I’ll always come home to you.’ He would tell you. ‘I will never wander too far into the dark where you can’t follow me.’ You would reply with much to Yelena’s disgruntlement.

She’s happy for you both, but did you both really have to do the cliche romance bullshit in front of her? You had a room for a reason, be sappy there and not in front of her! It’s putting her off her breakfast. ‘Get a room.’ She’d tell you both and you’d reply by shooing her an unimpressed look as Bob smiled sheepishly, burying his head into your neck. ‘We’re in a room, so if you’re that uncomfortable you can leave.’ You replied.

‘Or we can always find another one.’ Bob counters in hopes of bringing peace to the situation.

You and Yelena looked at each other for a prolonged period of time before Yelena relented and raised her hands. ‘No it’s fine, besides your cute couple moments have put me off of any food for a good few hours.’ She says playfully as she leaves the room, though not before giving you a knowing look, telling you that she’s happy for you and that you certainly picked a good one in Bob Reynolds but you didn’t need to be told you picked good when he was the one who more or less picked you.

[evilminji]

"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Ten

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Cricket Oscar I repeat Cricket Oscar! Also... you know that whole 'ten chapters per era' thing? Yeah, scratch that. I'm just going with the vibes. They have more story to tell than I thought! We're almost at the end of Boarding School era though. Almost.

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

The outfield shimmered under the kind of sun you could almost believe was nearly summer, not just the British version where your nose still ran but your calves were burning.

Harper was stretched across the cricket pavilion steps, blazer bundled under her head, school skirt hitched to mid-thigh. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her legs — bare, pale, with a fresh constellation of freckles — were aimed straight at the sky like solar panels.

"Do you think it's working?" She asked, squinting behind her sunglasses.

Jane, sat beside her with her knees up and a blue slushie in one hand, sniffed. "Your thighs still look like milk, but your knees might be caramelising slightly."

"Excellent," Harper muttered. "Just what every girl dreams of. Caramelised knees."

On the pitch below, the Year 11 and 12 boys were playing some kind of friendly cricket match, which was loosely organised and entirely chaotic.

Oscar, Sam, and Matt were all in full whites — jumpers on, shirts rolled at the sleeves, trousers already grass-stained and untucked. Oscar bowled like he was in the Ashes. Sam swung the bat like he was in a pub fight. Matt had no idea what he was doing, but his mum was a big donator to the sports department, so he was on every team they had.

Jane slurped her drink loudly. "How do they look fit in cricket whites? Like. That shouldn't be hot. But it is."

Harper hummed in agreement. "Oscar looks so good."

"I'd let Sam ruin my life," Jane said mildly, tilting her sunglasses down her nose to peer over them. "Just for the record."

"That's a given," said Alfie from behind them.

He was leaning against the pavilion rail with his arms crossed, sunglasses on, his tie slung around his neck like a scarf. He looked like a bouncer at a VIP tanning party, watching the crowd.

Harper smirked. "You alright there, security?"

"I'm good," he said, not moving. "Just enjoying the weather. And making sure no one ogles the royal bump or the goth queen over here for too long."

Jane fluttered her lashes. "Aw, Alfie. That's so sweet."

"Don't get used to it," he muttered, but didn't deny it.

Two Year 10s walked by, gawking a bit too long at Harper's stomach. Alfie flipped them off without looking away from the field.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered. "It's like they've never seen a pregnant girl before. Weirdos."

Harper rolled her eyes. "Leave them alone, Alf. Our sex-ed programme here is awful."

On the pitch, Oscar had just clean bowled a year 12 twice his size. He didn't celebrate. Just walked back to his mark like a soldier reloading his gun.

Sam, meanwhile, had pulled off a sliding catch and promptly started peacocking like a West End actor. Matt attempted a cartwheel and fell flat on his face.

The girls howled with laughter.

"They're so stupid," Jane said, beaming.

"They're our stupid, though," Harper replied.

"And you're stuck with them forever," Alfie added, which made Harper laugh so hard she snorted.

Oscar looked up at the sound — squinting toward the pavilion — and smiled when he saw her, quick and quiet and just for her. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, waved once, then turned back to the game.

Jane sipped her slushie. "God, you two are cute."

"Shut up," Harper said, but she was still smiling.

The sun drifted a little lower. Somewhere in the background, the school bell rang for Sunday chapel — and nobody moved.

For a moment, just one, they weren't kids dealing with exams and babies and contracts and races and aristocratic uncles and tabloid magazines.

They were just fifteen and full of sugar, with sun warmed skin, watching the boys they liked pretend to be grown-ups in too-big uniforms and too-small egos.

It was perfect. Brief. Messy.

Life.

—

The boys came trudging up the slope from the pitch victorious — Sam with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, Matt skipping like he'd just won Eurovision, and Oscar... quiet, scuffed, a bit pink in the face and pretending he didn't notice Harper jogging down the last few steps to meet him.

"Oi, lovers!" Jane called, slapping her empty slushie cup onto Alfie's head. "We're going this way!"

Harper didn't care. She launched herself at Oscar, nearly knocking the water bottle out of his hand.

"You were so good," she said, wrapping her arms round his neck. "Seriously, I think I'm ovulating. I don't care that I already have a baby inside me."

"Jesus Christ," muttered Alfie, who had not asked to hear that.

Oscar went bright red. He kept his arms mostly around her waist but was clearly short-circuiting in front of his friends.

"Harps," he mumbled, shifting his grip awkwardly. "There's, like—people watching..."

"Let them watch," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You're so fit."

Sam passed by, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. "You're a proper stallion, mate. Well done."

"I hate all of you," Oscar muttered, voice muffled by Harper's hair.

Jane high-fived Matt for literally no reason. "Good effort, you absolute weapon."

Matt beamed. "I caught a ball with my face."

"And still the girls love you," Jane sighed. "Life's unfair."

As they reached the top of the hill, the group slowed — sweat-stained boys dragging their jumpers over their heads, the girls walking barefoot across the hot pavement in socks.

Alfie rolled his eyes as Harper kissed Oscar on the neck. "Get a room."

"We've got a room," Harper said sweetly. "Yours. I sleep in it four nights a week."

Sam gagged. "Alright, alright — leave some dignity on the grass."

Oscar was flustered beyond speech. He kissed Harper's temple, quickly, like a reflex, then shoved his kit bag higher on his shoulder and marched ahead of them.

The rest of the group, of course, followed him, cackling like feral hyenas.

By the time they reached the dorm block, Oscar had nearly made it to the stairwell alone — but Harper caught his wrist and tugged him back.

"You alright?" She asked, quieter now.

He glanced around — no one right next to them, just the echo of stomping boots on the stairs.

Then he nodded. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

Oscar looked at her, eyes soft now that it was just them. "I don't mind the kissing. Just...not when Sam's narrating it."

Harper grinned. "Sorry. It's the hormones."

"Okay," he said, leaning in and kissing her properly this time — quick, but real. "I like when it's just us."

She smiled. "Me too."

"Also I think Sam might throw up if he ever wakes up when we're — you know."

"Sucks to suck." She said.

Oscar huffed a laugh.

They walked the rest of the way up together, quietly bickering over whose turn it was to nick KitKats from the vending machine and which bed they were claiming tonight.

Down the hall, someone yelled that Matt had thrown a sweaty sock at the fire alarm, because Jane was already in the process of burning her toast.

Harper smiled at Oscar.

Oscar smiled at Harper.

—

The classroom windows were cracked open, but the air still tasted like too many bodies in one place — biro ink, cheap deodorant, and GCSE anxiety.

Harper sat at the back, her copy of Macbeth balanced on top of a closed ring binder. She had a pen tucked behind one ear, a half-drunk bottle of Lucozade on the desk, and one hand pressed to the base of her spine like she could physically will the ache away.

Miss Freeman was rambling up front about ambition and power, pacing between the whiteboard and her desk with her usual furious energy. Her voice was sharp, quick — trying to cram five months' worth of content into five minutes, as if the sheer velocity of her teaching could force it into their heads.

"Harper," she called without turning, "what's Macbeth's fatal flaw?"

Harper blinked, sat up straighter. "Uh — ambition?"

"Good. Expand."

She swallowed. "He... wants power more than he wants to do the right thing. Even though he's full of doubt, he still goes through with it. Because he wants it too much."

Miss Freeman turned and pointed her marker like a sword. "Yes. Wanting something doesn't make you worthy of it. Write that down."

The room scratched with the sound of pens on paper.

Harper tried to focus — genuinely, she did — but her lower back was killing her. Not sharp pain, just that low, constant pressure, like someone had tied a sack of flour to her spine and told her to sit still with it.

She shifted slightly in her chair, trying to stretch out discreetly, but the movement drew a glance from the boy next to her — Toby something, always smelled like orange body spray and stale chewing gum.

He leaned slightly away, like she might suddenly explode.

"You alright?" He asked, face pinched.

Harper raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine."

He stared at her stomach like it had just started glowing.

"It's not catching, you know," she added dryly, turning back to her notes.

Toby flushed. "Didn't say it was."

"Didn't have to."

He said nothing after that, except to edge his chair a full six inches away.

Harper bit back a sigh, pressed her fingers harder into the knot at her back, and underlined the word ambition three times.

Across the room, she caught Jane's eye — Jane raised both eyebrows and mimed stabbing herself with her pen.

Harper smiled, barely, then went back to her book.

The clock ticked too slowly. The air buzzed. And the ache in her spine crept up just a little further.

—

The school nurse's office was too bright, too white. Fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead, sharp against Harper's already pounding head. She sat stiffly on the low cot near the radiator, both hands braced on either side of her bump. Her back hurt — a dull, dragging ache low in her spine that came and went like waves. Not agony, but not normal either.

She'd tried to ignore it in class. Kept her head down, revising and pretending the ache wasn't spreading like warm pressure across her belly. Until she couldn't anymore.

So she'd texted Oscar.

Can you come with me to the nurse? Not urgent just... a bit of pain.

He hadn't replied.

He'd shown up at the English classroom less than two minutes later, breathless, eyes wide.

Now he was sitting beside her, not saying much, hand closed tightly over hers. She could feel how tense he was in the way his thumb didn't move, how his leg bounced nervously even though he was trying not to fidget.

Mrs. Lyle, the school nurse, was kneeling by a cabinet, flipping through a stack of maternity leaflets she hadn't touched in probably two years. That's how long it'd been since the Haileybury baby.

"You said it's low back pain? Tightening?"

Harper nodded. "Sort of like... pulling. Like pressure. Not sharp, but weird."

Oscar's fingers tightened slightly around hers.

Mrs. Lyle stood and crossed to them, sitting down on the little stool by the cot. "Sounds like Braxton Hicks. You're about what — thirty weeks now?"

"Almost thirty-two," Oscar said, before Harper could answer.

Mrs. Lyle smiled softly. "Right. That makes sense, then. These start around now — practice contractions, essentially. Not actual labour, but your body's working out the muscles. Like rehearsal, in a way."

"But it hurt," Harper said, quietly. "I mean, not properly. But it felt like..."

"Something more serious?" The nurse finished for her, nodding. "It's normal to worry. It's good you came in."

Oscar looked down, jaw clenched. "So it's not — she's okay? The baby's okay?"

"Everything sounds textbook," Mrs. Lyle said calmly. "Nothing to panic about. She needs rest, hydration, and someone to carry her backpack for the rest of the day."

"Oscar always carries my bag." She said, automatically. Then she let out a breath, trying not to sag too visibly into Oscar's side. But he felt it anyway, leaned a little closer like it was instinct. His thumb finally moved, brushing against the edge of her knuckle. "I didn't know what to do," she said quietly.

"You scared me," he replied.

"I thought maybe it was real. Like — too early. I thought something was wrong."

"I know," he said. "I thought that too."

The nurse busied herself across the room, giving them quiet.

Oscar stared at the floor, then looked at her again. "I'm going to switch English periods. So I'm with you most of the day. Only class we'll have separate is Maths."

"Thanks." She whispered.

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, his hand lingering at her jaw. "I keep thinking I'm going to mess this up. Like there'll be a moment, and I won't know what to do, and you'll be hurting, and I'll just... freeze."

Harper turned toward him, forehead brushing his. "You didn't freeze, though. You ran out of class and came to get me."

"I got detention for it," he muttered.

"Worth it?"

"Obviously."

She smiled faintly, and for a second it almost didn't hurt anymore.

Mrs. Lyle came back with a bottle of water and some instructions about warning signs. Harper nodded through them, Oscar listening like it was life-or-death briefing.

Later, when they walked back toward the dorms together, Harper's bag slung over Oscar's shoulder and her hand in his hoodie pocket, she felt it again — the ache, the low pull in her back.

But she breathed through it. Didn't let herself panic.

Oscar stopped, watched her, gave her a minute.

And when she gave him a tiny little nod, they started walking again.

—

Oscar's pit garage was alive with movement — laptop screens glowing, air compressors hissing, the sharp scent of tyre rubber and brake dust thick in the air. The mechanics were everywhere, half-in and half-out of red team jackets, their radios clipped to belt loops, voices clipped and fast in the way only race days made necessary.

Harper sat on a crate in the back corner, half out of sight, a bottle of orange Lucozade in one hand and Oscar's helmet balanced beside her. She was wearing his old team fleece, zipped to the chin. Her legs ached from walking too much around the paddock that morning, and the baby — thirty-three weeks now, she kept reminding herself — was sitting weirdly on her spine. But none of that mattered.

She'd learned the names of all the engineers now. Matteo, who let her plug in tyre temp data to practice her number handling skills; Hugo, who always made her tea when it rained; and Ana, who'd secretly slipped her a granola bar the first time she nearly fainted from the garage heat.

They didn't look at her like she was a distraction.

They looked at her like she belonged.

"You're back early, Harps," Hugo said, passing her a stack of pit notes. "Track walk not worth the dust?"

She smiled faintly. "It was just Oscar doing that thing where he looks at gravel and pretends he understands how it affects his drive."

"Funny kid. Acting like he doesn't just drive like a lunatic every weekend and somehow make it work," Matteo added, grinning.

Harper smiled wider, adjusting the fleece over her bump. "We like lunatics."

There was the clatter of boots on metal and a burst of voices outside the canopy. Then Oscar pushed in through the side flap of the tent, tugging off his headset, face flushed and bright-eyed. His hair stuck up on one side, and he looked like he'd just run three miles.

He spotted her instantly.

"Harper—" His voice was breathless. He crossed the garage fast, past the prep bench, around the team radio desk, and knelt beside her like he couldn't get close enough fast enough. "Come here. Two seconds. Just—"

She blinked, startled, letting him pull her up by the hand and half-drag her toward the quiet side of the tent, near the stacks of spare slicks and a half-drunk bottle of Red Bull.

Oscar looked like he might combust.

She tilted her head. "You alright?"

He looked at her for a second like he was checking if it was real.

Then he said, "Prema wants me. For F3."

Her mouth parted.

"What?"

He nodded, quickly, still flushed, eyes almost glassy with adrenaline. "Just talked to Marco. They want me. Already. Like—next season. They said I'm tracking above expectations. They want to get me in the F3 car before the year's out. Testing. Maybe a free practice."

"Wait—wait, wait," Harper said, stepping in closer. "Oscar, are you—are you serious?"

"I think I'm going to cry or be sick," he said, but he was smiling, wide and unguarded.

She grabbed his face with both hands, stared at him like she was trying to press the words into his skin. "You're going to F3."

"Yeah."

"You're actually—"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God." She let out something between a laugh and a sob and kissed him. It wasn't a careful kiss. It was messy, hot with nerves, almost desperate — the kind of kiss that comes after months of half-holding your breath and hoping everything you're building doesn't slip through your fingers.

When they broke apart, Harper kept her forehead against his.

"You deserve this," she whispered. "You've worked so fucking hard, Osc. This isn't luck. This is you."

He didn't say anything at first. Just closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, they were clear and determined.

"I want it," he said. "I want it bad. But I'm scared that—"

"Don't," she said. "We'll make it work."

Someone called Oscar's name from the garage entrance.

He kissed her again, faster this time, and muttered, "Gotta go."

"Win this one," she said, still breathless.

"I will."

As he jogged back to his engineer, helmet under one arm, Harper stayed near the stack of tyres, heart hammering in time with the noise of the circuit starting to come alive beyond the paddock.

F3.

It wasn't just an idea anymore.

It was happening.

Step by step, formula by formula.

Her boyfriend was going to be a world champion one day.

And she'd be right next to him when it happened.

—

The computer lab always smelled like dust and old wires, the kind of cold room that was either boiling from server fans or freezing from the busted window. Today it was somewhere in between.

Harper sat in the corner by the window, legs tucked under her in the school's worst office chair, a hoodie tugged over her bump and a stubborn frown etched into her face.

"Line thirty-six," Matt said, leaning over her screen from the side. "You've got a missing semicolon."

She groaned and dropped her head to the desk.

"I hate JavaScript. I hate the entire concept of JavaScript. It's all chaos and no laws."

"You're learning React, which is basically JavaScript on crack."

"I chose this language because it was meant to be user-friendly."

Matt looked at her with wide eyes. "It's not. It lies."

Harper sat back up, cracking her knuckles. "Whatever. It's a project site, not a space launch. It just needs to work."

On her screen: a rough landing page — bold, accessible design, a mockup portfolio header, a contact form that mostly worked, and a bright pink font that she'd argued about with her teacher twice already.

The title read: Harper Grace Whiatt | Front-End Developer.

"You're not even doing this for class anymore, are you?" Matt asked, squinting at the layout.

"Nope," she said, popping her lips. "I've been attending this accredited course online, doing the certification stuff. Once I get my GCSEs out of the way and baby is born, I'm going to spend all my free time on it. Maybe go freelance. Build stuff."

Matt blinked. "Like... actual websites? For people?"

"Yeah," Harper said, tapping her space bar like it owed her money. "There's this girl I follow on Instagram — she's eighteen, self-taught, does Squarespace templates and Shopify setups, makes more than a junior lawyer. I figured, you know... it's smart. Futureproof."

She said it like a defence. Like she had to prove to everyone — to herself — that she wasn't going to be the story people had already decided for her.

"You don't have to," Matt said after a moment. "Prove anything. We already know you're clever. And, like. Kind of terrifying."

"Aw," Harper said. "You're sweet." Then she said . "Ever say that again and I'll launch this keyboard at your head."

Matt rolled his eyes, but grinned. "You're going to be good at it."

She looked back at the screen, the site stubby and full of placeholder text, but real. Hers.

"I want to build stuff people actually use," she said, softer now. "Not just pretty things. Useful ones. That don't assume you've got perfect eyesight or that you know where all the buttons are."

"Accessible design?" He asked, a little impressed.

Harper shrugged. "Bit ironic, right? Couldn't pass GCSE Maths if you paid me, but give me a CSS framework and I can make your entire checkout system retina-ready."

"You're the only person in this school who knows what 'retina-ready' means."

She grinned. "Maybe."

A message pinged on her screen — a Discord notification from a dev server she'd joined the week before. Someone had commented on her mock portfolio build: Nice typography choices. Would love to see more of your work.

She stared at it for a second.

Maybe this wasn't some pretend future. Maybe this was real.

Her world didn't have to shrink. It could shift. Change shape. But it didn't have to vanish.

Her laptop fan wheezed and clicked. She opened her browser, pulled up her GitHub, and started typing.

—

Oscar was lying flat on his bed, hair still wet from his post-training shower, eating Haribo one by one like they were sacred. Harper was on the floor cross-legged, MacBook balanced on her knees, pyjama sleeves pulled over her hands. Her bump curved gently under the fabric, resting against her thighs.

The screen glowed blue in the dim light.

"You're not allowed to look yet," she said, waving him off.

"It's going to be my website," Oscar muttered, tossing a Haribo into his mouth and missing.

Sam snorted from the other side of the room. "To be fair, you couldn't design a website if your life depended on it, Piastri. You'd just put a picture of your face and 'vroom' underneath."

Oscar threw a sock at him.

Harper kept typing.

They'd been working on it — quietly, between revision and races and everything else — for the last two weeks. He hadn't told anyone yet. Mark knew, obviously. And Alfie, by accident, when Harper asked if anyone had high-res images from Oscar's most recent F4 race.

They'd all gone to watch him from the grandstands like normal fans. Sam, Alfie, Jane, Matt — and obviously Harper. It'd been like a weird, fun little school trip.

Now the website was almost done.

"Okay," Harper said finally. "Try it."

Oscar leaned over and squinted at the screen. Then blinked.

The landing page was sharp and minimal, black background, bold white type. A full-width photo of him racing — visor down, car catching the light just right — stretched across the top.

OscarPiastri.com

"Whoa."

She kept scrolling for him. Stats. Race results. An embedded video reel Mark had helped them trim. A bio she'd bullied him into writing. Sponsor contact section. News feed. Instagram integration. All responsive. All accessible.

"You made this?" He said, eyebrows high.

She nodded. "Built from scratch. No Wix bullshit. I even set up the CMS so Mark can update the results and press stuff without breaking anything."

He just stared. "It's so... professional."

"I am professional."

Oscar looked properly impressed. Then a little overwhelmed. "You're literally fifteen."

"Sixteen in, like, nine weeks," she corrected, deadpan.

He reached for her, pulled her gently up onto the bed beside him, and kissed her temple.

"Thank you," he said, soft.

"'s nothing," she said, tucking herself under his arm. "I liked doing it. Made me feel like I'm... part of it."

"You are part of it."

She didn't say anything. Just closed the lid of her laptop and leaned against him.

Across the room, Sam looked up. "Wait. If you're building sites now... think you could make me one for my rap career?"

Harper didn't even blink. "No. I want nothing to do with that disaster."

Oscar laughed.

Sam sulked.

—

The early morning light filtered through the cracked dorm window, casting a pale glow on the cluttered room. Harper sat on the edge of her bed, fiddling nervously with the hem of her jumper. Oscar leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, eyes tired but trying to look calm.

"First one," Harper muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar shrugged, trying for casual. "Biology. Easy, yeah?"

She snorted. "You're joking. You've seen my biology notes."

He stepped closer, dropping his voice. "Hey, you've got this. We've done the revision, the late nights, the panic... now it's just another test."

Harper bit her lip. "I'm scared. What if I mess it up? What if I let everyone down?"

Oscar crouched down, grabbing her hands. "No one's expecting perfection. And what does a biology result matter anyway?"

She squeezed his hands, trying to hold onto that steady feeling. "Thanks, Osc."

He smiled, awkward and sincere. "We celebrate. Whatever happens."

She nodded, took a deep breath. "Okay. I think I'm ready."

He pulled her into a quick hug, warm and tight. "Go smash it."

NEXT CHAPTER