#seeing how bad it is so he can warn everyone to board up their stuff

[jaxi-the-dragonborn]

@theevilicecreamsoda COME GET YA BOYYY

[whore-ibly-hot]

THROUGH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR @yanderereblogs THE FACULTY HAVE BEEN FOYND AND RETURNED TO US! PRAISE BE TO REBLOGGERS, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARCHIVISTS!

Yandere Boarding School Part 2, (Faculty)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, smoking, horny posting.

(AN: Part Two has been reuploaded after a takedown, godspeed @yanderereblogs for saving it! Mmmmmm, old men. Everyone pictured as a student is OF LEGAL AGE TUMBLR MODS HOP OFF MY DICK.

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters Son or Daughter!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Ridgemoore Academy being an all male school, this makes it easier to imagine a world where reader is allowed in the school. Now, let's focus on the faculty...

◇ Mr. Joel Murphy, who teaches the majority of the 'life skills' classes at the school. The school being all-boys is very traditional, and teaches things like game hunting and orienteering, which is why they hired a manly-man like Joel. If only they knew what a bitter grump he is. An ex-sheriff of the nearby town, he decided to leave the force after realizing there was no real crime in the small, privileged town, and decided to take up an easy job at the school. Unfortunately, he realized his love for camping and hunting is warped into what he considers 'frilly shit for rich little boys'. He's gruff, barking out orders and easily been exasperated at the sheer incompetence of the boys.

"Shoot one quail, and these boys act like they killed a bear..."

He thought about retiring from yet another job, as living on the ritzy campus just doesn't feel like home to him, and lord knows he's not fond of his job. However, things change when you arrive. Whether you're a delinquent or a little more sweet and obedient, he likes you. If you're a delinquent, he likes seeing a little hell-raiser kick up some shit at the fancy school. If you're sweet or shy, he gets protective. Nice youngins' like you shouldn't be thrown in amongst these spoiled weasels.

He's sure to help you if you need it, a gentle hand on your back as his burly chest presses against your shoulder blades, adjusting your position against the butt of a rifle. Standing by while you're on hands and knees trying to light a fire, making sure none of the boys are trying to get a look at your assessts. Not that he isn't going to, but he justifies it to himself as just making sure your school shorts/skirt is regulation. He's protecting your modesty. After class hours, come to him with any issues, or shit, even his room. He'll put on some coffee and ask you to help him create a curriculum that 'reaches the kids', as your father instructed him to. It's cozy, the fancy school adnorments thrown away for medals and plaques, national parks posters and a few old family photos. He'll keep you tucked in on his warm couch while he strays from curriculum talk to stories of his time in the scouts and on the force. Tells you about how much he loves just... laying out under the stars with somebody special, to sit around a campfire with friends, then slyly ask is you've ever had somebody to do that with. He knows you're younger than him, and he struggles with the idea that you won't want him cause of it, so for now, he'll bask in the feeling of seeing you curled up in his room, keeping the idea of picking you up and having you accept his cock to himself. If you can get pregnant, his fists his cock to the thought of that too. He's not some horned up boy, he wants you in the long term.

He looooooves the yearly orienteering final, in which the students in the class are made to go on an actual camping trip. It's possible a tent will 'accidentally' go missing, leaving you to bunk with him. Don't worry, nothing bads gonna happen while you've got this burly bear of a man practically spooning you, warm gut from his dad-bod pressed against you as he tries his best to make sure he doesn't scare you.

"Sorry those damn boys left your tent back at the school, kiddo. I... wouldn't be suprised of one of them did it on purpose, little bastards." He grumbles, hoping you'll take the hint to separate yourself from those immature preps and stick to being with a man who can treat you right. "Remember that lesson from a couple weeks ago, on body heat? I know it's awkward, but we've only got one sleeping bag. You feel like you can trust this old man to keep you warm?" Unfortunately for his ego and trying to keep down his urges, the trees aren't going to be the only wood in the morning.

◇ Mr. Paul Burton, head of the arts department. He's so over this, a once decent artist who dabbled in pop art and theatre only to stop getting gigs and be black-listed after offending several more famous artists, calling their work 'sell-out chic', he's now a burn-out who smokes and ignores his students all class. He's passionate about art, but frankly he doesn't want tow aste his time teaching when he knows these rats are taking his class for easy credit. He's only teaching here to utilize the facilities and studios so he's not living in a van in the Walmart parking lot. A mix of hippie culture, live and let live and cynical burnout, he's so. Fucking. Done. But... maybe you change that for him.

You're interesting, a headmasters child who doesn't fit in to your fathers perfect mold? Maybe a rebellious student who goes against the grain of this perfect school. Or a blooming ray of sunshine in this dark den of privilege and conformist curriculum for the future lawyers of the world. Either way, he's found a new muse. See him after class.

He'll be thrilled if you're into art, let him guide you. Tell him your favorite artists and he'll tell you when he threw up on there shoes by accident in his hey-day. Gossip about a student you don't like, he'll listen while he smokes and tell you about how that guys mom hit on him. He loves to gossip, but he loves to watch you create more. The way your hands shape a vase or brush across a canvas light a fire in him he hasn't felt in a while. He's more willing to forgo the age gap between you, while it's never something he considered before, he knows he's not gonna let go of the one thing that makes him feel like he lives again. Besides, he's always been unconventional.

He'll have you stay after class, maybe he'll have you pose nude for a painting, assuring you it's fins, it's platonic, it's just for the love of art. He chooses and extra large canvas, it lets him paint while he relieves himself as you explain you're getting cold. He'll put on some artsy, silent, black and white film from the 30s, and while you watch and slowly realize it's pornographic, He'll grin to himself while he watches you flush. He'll ask you all sorts of questions about your thoughts on the film, the actors, what they're doing. He really wants to figure out how experienced you are. "What do you think of the composition? It's really carnal, you know?" He puts out his cigarette. "I'm glad I can show this to you, you'll actually appreciate it. You're not giggling like an idiot when some guys penis is out on the screen." He groans, thinking of his other students.

He does actually like one student, though they make an odd pair. Joseph's easily spooked and shy personality clashes with the brash older man's, but he's glad to have someone he can think of as a protege. Someone who loves art as much as him, but get isolated for it. He was doing a portfolio look over when Joseph accidentally turned in the wrong folder. Joseph feels like he might die as Mr. Burton, a man he admires, flips through nude pictures of the object of his affection, and at a distance no less. A part of him wants to rip it away, but he needs this scholarship.

"Please, please, sir! I-I'll never do it again, it was just a phase, I didn't mean for you to see-"

"They're good." Mr. Burton flips through the folder. "Real good. You could really get somewhere with these, maybe not in the fine art scene, but... tell you what." He adjusts his glasses and leans forward on his desk. "We'll do a special session, you and me, yeah? I'll get your friend here, and I'll vouch for your integrity so you can take some less-" he purses his lips. "Stalker-ish pics- Jesus, kid, is that taken from a tree?"

☆ Anatoli Sidorov, probably the best paid staff given how they got him here. He's a Russian coach for a former Olympic Russian swim team, and he joined the prestigious American school to escape shame after he 'resigned' post a doping scandal which he swears he wasn't involved in. (Whether he was or not is your choice.) Still, he's led the boys swim team and track team to nationals several times, and he's a legend among the wealthy benefactors of the school. He's outwardly very serious, hard on his team but respectful of them. He doesn't put up with any unruly or unsportsmanlike behavior from his boys, at least not what he can see. He's very nice deep down, intellectual and funny, though he still struggles with American humor and English.

He adores you when he meets you, milking about with the other students before class. You seem genuinely social, and wanting to fit in. The idea someone could be so welcoming warms his heart. Deep down, he misses his home, and he misses the friends he once had. You're warm, and he likes that. Not to mention, you're a looker. He's embarrassed, especially if you're male, seeing as he never considered swinging the other way, and much less with someone younger. But he can't help but stare when your pretty tits bounce as you run, or the way those jogging shorts hardly conceal your bulge. He even pulled you to the side one to scold you for not wearing regulation gym clothes, before realizing they were and awkwardly sending you back into class. That was a moment of self-reflection for him.

He's not necessarily outwardly softer to you, you might even think he doesn't like you, given that he has you stay late to run or jump rope, or constantly pulls you into time out mid-game. It's all for your own good, trust him. He doesn't like the way some of the boys were looking at you, and he could tell Evan was a only a play away from trying to practically hump you while trying to 'get the ball'. He's made Harrison, who he loves as a player, run laps for talking to you for only a few minutes. He hates feeling like a jealous boy, but he can't help it. You make him feel young.

He establishes a private locker room area for you, since you're the headmasters kid and not an official student. Besides, you're clearly being harassed by the others! So, he's got a nice little closet for you, with a not suspicious air freshener that's not a hidden camera, and a private key only you have access to. (Technically that's true, he just has a bypass key for himself.) He'll snatch a pair of boxers or some panties, slipping them into his track coat for later. Eventually, he'll tell you he's worried you aren't able to catch up to the others, given that you arrived later and started the gym curriculum later than the others. He'll start having extra 'make-up' workouts with you, starting with stretching. One leg uo on the bar, you'll have to excuses his cold hand running along your thigh, or stroking over your chest as him just admiring how your strength and flexibility is evolving. He relishes the feeling of your body on his, groping you under the guise of training and resisting the urge to just slip aside your gym shorts and veg you to take him.

"Little star, part 'dem a little, there ve go." He keeps your legs parted as he works you into a position on your back, against the rubber mats the tumbling team had laid out. He lays just over you, pushing your legs back a little further with his arms, just far away enough to keep you from noticing his hard on, but enough to lightly press it against the plush swell of your ass. Good, let's just- fuck- hold. Let's hold."

☆ Kory Koffman, English teacher and part time librarian! The school outs so much effort into sports, both admin and students seem to forget about him. Hell, the library is used so little they fired the librarian, and he took it upon himself to try and care for the building himself. He's a sweet, shy man, who just wants to share his passion for literature with others. However, unlike Mr. Burton, he was never popular or famous, so he's content to keep to himself, but the loneliness does get to him.

When you wandered into his library one day, maybe looking for a book or seeking refuge from a hoarde ofadmirers, he was happy to welcome you into his little safe haven. He'll give you some warm tea from the little coffee machine he has set up, and sit you down. Let him help you find a book, or tell you about his creative writing class? He'd let you join, even late in the semester! It's not a very full class.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself craving the attention of another, of someone else's company, other than his books. He hasn't felt that need for connection since he was a boy, after his momma passed. He'll do anything to keep you there, and if reading isn't your thing, much to his chagrin, he'll add a DVD section to the library, but only good films and classic for you! No Adam Sandler, those movies are to overstimulating for poor Mr. Koffman.

As his feelings turn romantic, he's ashamed. You're a student, and he's a lonely old man, you deserve someone better, someone your age. However, the thought of you being with any of the many students who mock him in the halls or disrupt his class, the thought of hand you over to those-those imbeciles, hurts him. He wants you, and he's ashamed at the way his trousers go tight when you bend over to get a fallen book, or when you hand him his glasses after he misplaced them (again), the fact he just stares at your finger prints for awhile and refuses to clean the lens. He's not had sex in a long, long time, but he finds himself masturbating more than he ever did when he was younger. He'll watch library security footage openly, moaning and whimpering at his desk with no fear anybody will stop in, no one ever does but you. He wants you as his spouse, you already make his library, his home away from home seem brighter, imagine what you could do for his actual apartment.

"Oh, hello! It's good to see you, it's been a bit." He's a little bitter at that last statement, but adjusts his glasses and continues. "Just remember to stop by often, okay? I'd really, really hate to impose the late policy on you..."

☆ Atticus Critch, the schools latin instructor and head sponsor of student body, (not to mention the man in charge of detention), is a strict disciplinarian. He takes no nonsense from anyone, and despises the behavioral pardons given to boys like Evan or Harrison simply because they are athletes. Peter is obviously his favorite, and when he catches wind of the ways the boys around campus are speaking about you, he decides to take it upon himself to remove the distraction, by having Carter trail you and give you detention for minor inconveniences. Carter isn't particularly thrilled at always having to send you to detention instead of extorting you to get his rocks off, but he's hoping maybe he'll get to 'monitor' detention one of these days.

Initially, Mr. Critch has you doing small tasks, writing lines or organizing things, but soon he starts to see the appeal. If you're a good student for the most part, he's determined to keep you good, and away from all the vermin in this school. If you're bad, he's had plenty of experience in taming brats. He's open with his sexual desires, it his growing affection for you that makes him struggle.

If you've stayed out too late and broke curfew, you can spend detention on your knees, suckling his cock into the late hours. Maybe you've been running around with Tyler. He'll make you lay down on his desk and deny you your climax over and over again, asking 'if not making you cum' is what that boy does to you, never fully satisfying you. He'll make you beg to finish, and to promise you'll be good from now on.

"Come on, repeat it. Tell me you'll be good now, that you won't bother with BOYS-" He annuciates with a thrust, "When you have a man right here, whose willing to take time out of his day to discipline you!" One the amorous session is over though, he definitely softens, trying to prove he's more than a boy in many ways, including good aftercare. He'll dress your limp form back up in your uniform and walk you get you a cup of water from the fountain. "Only ten minutes till your detention is over, dear. Just sit there, take some time to reflect on how you got here." His tone is demeaning, but as he pets your scalp, his touch is so feather-light. Don't expect is to last into the next day though.

[b38rman]

READ YOUR MIND ᯓ★ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, slight miscommunication, loosely inspired by the sabrina carpenter song of the same name

synopsis - This was definitely not on the marketing internship job offering for Prema Racing. You swore you had everything under control before this—before Ollie Bearman took up most of the weekend's agenda.

rating - teen and up readers

warnings - slightly suggestive ending

a/n - i wrote this before ollie was announced as a 2025 f1 driver and the slight implications of dread related to that uncertainty are littered throughout this work so just keep that in mind (or not) enjoy!

Thursday — Spain, 2024

The unmistakable sound of the hotel doorbell rang through your room. Admittedly, the best time to go to sleep had already passed you by at this point, considering the 7 AM lobby call time the team had for you. Unfortunately, the restlessness that could only be attributed to constant location changes seeped into your bones.

You got up, trying to dispell the feeling populating your gut. Perhaps, more than anything, it was the dull influx of certainty. You were still learning how to get used to this.

You opened the door slightly, just enough to see who was on the other side. 

“Took you long enough.” The familiar rumble of Ollie’s voice filled your ears, as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

At this point, you were 100% sure that any of this was not part of any of the contracts Prema made you sign when they offered you the internship. No matter how much you looked between the lines of wage and non-disclosures, you wouldn’t find what you and Ollie had anywhere.

It was just that it was becoming a routine at this point. From the beginning of the season, Ollie seemingly couldn’t find a better victim than you for his late night musings. You tried to gently reprimand him at first, telling him off about his bedtime and his racing and all of the things he’d scoff at you for and turn a stubbornly deaf ear towards.

Ollie rounded the room slowly, his white sleep shirt and flannel pajamas contrasting against your worn summer camp shirt and cotton shorts. You felt overexposed, as you always did in these situations. 

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Ollie asked, mindlessly making his way to your side of the bed.

You thought about it for a second before responding, “Nope, too tired to be that stressed out.”

Ollie hummed in acknowledgment before laying back onto your bed, phone in hand, with his legs still dangling over the edge. He always took your side of the bed, despite it very obviously being rumpled and occupied.

You climbed onto the other side and tucked yourself in under the sheets. As if on instinct, Ollie moved his head upward, resting it on your stomach, before locking his phone and setting it on his chest. 

“I just feel a bit odd, you know? Like everyone says so many good things about me but really, I haven’t done anything.” He looked to the ceiling as he rambled. “I have another FP1 tomorrow and all I can think about is how I don’t know how to be what people want me to be. I don’t know how to keep being good, or how to really be good; will people even look back and think I was good?” 

“That’s some bad imposter syndrome you got there, huh?” You stretched your hand out and lightly laid it on his head, stretching your fingers against the expanse of brown waves. Ollie leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes.

“The only thing that should matter is who you want to be.” You grinned fondly at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “Besides, you’re way too young to be worrying stuff like that.”

“We’re the same age.” He opened his eyes just to look at you as he said that. 

“And do you see me worrying about my legacy?” You joked, earning a toothy smile and a roll of eyes from Ollie. 

At every moment you’ve spent with Ollie so far, he’s not felt like someone that appears on national television broadcasts or on carefully curated Pinterest boards. You could almost see yourself looking across the lecture hall, seeing him, and wondering if he was really paying attention or just browsing on his laptop.

Instead, he was one of the boys you’d keep track of social media appearances for. You managed his filming schedules for both long-form and short-form videos, and wove through seas of people and motorhomes with him to find a spot to record his little post-race briefs. You weren’t assigned to him specifically, but it usually was you and him most of the time.

“It’s, um, getting late.” You tried not to be too awkward about untangling your hand from Ollie’s hair. “I think you should get some rest.”

You waited for him to complete the final part of this routine you had going, wherein he’d sleepily walk to his own bedroom and you’d fall asleep in your own fully warmed bed. 

Except for the fact that he didn’t do that at all. 

“Could I just stay here? I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You felt Ollie shift ever so slightly from where he was, head still resting on you.

Questions on professionality and ethics rang through your mind one after another. 

“Are you sure?” Was all you could muster. 

Ollie seemed to recognize your concern without you voicing it. After all, you weren’t particularly discreet about any of it. 

“I’ll just wake up earlier, it’ll be fine.” He finally raised his head and began setting an alarm for five in the morning. Part of you knew it was futile. Considering everything, it was a bold move, considering that it was just past midnight.

You watched him mindlessly, as he turned all the lights off, only leaving the light from the bathroom peaking out through a slight opening in its door. For a moment, you let yourself think of a time and place where this was a normal occurrence—one where him curling up in bed next to you in near complete darkness felt like a grounding force instead of a guilt-inducing one.

You turned to face away from where he was laying, opting to try and not make this any weirder than it could be. 

“Good night.” He said regardless. “Sweet dreams.” He said, in a softer voice, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. 

You could feel his body near yours, almost as if the full size bed was too cramped for the two of you. 

“Sweet dreams, Ollie.” You replied.

You felt him roll over to his back as you drifted off to sleep. 

Friday

Your eyes shot open at the sound of an iPhone alarm going off, obviously being the one Ollie set a few hours prior. What you didn’t immediately process was the arm wrapped around your waist, and the soft snores coming from the face that was nuzzled into your hair. Your heart was pounding. 

“Ollie,” You lightly shook the arm that was over you. “Ollie, wake up.”

You were only met with a long grunt and a tightened grip.

“Ollie, please, come on.” You tried sitting up to give him a bit more of a hint, displacing his arm on you.

Finally, he rolled over, turning off his alarm. The sun was barely out yet, and you saw him squinting at you through his sleepy eyes. 

“I don’t want to go.” He said softly and groggily, toying with a loose string on your worn shirt. 

“You have to.” You replied with every ounce of control in your body.

Ollie grunted faintly before stretching his arms over his head, silently sitting up and making his way out of the door as quickly as he came through it. 

Everything kept moving into the next day. You’d comprehensively briefed Kimi in the morning on his share of marketing activities over breakfast and sneaked some Live at Prema footage here and there, with Ollie notably paying less attention and getting called by some F1 media members midway. 

The constant elephant in the room was the tinge of disappointment the team felt due to Ollie’s slightly lackluster feeder performances in direct comparison to all of the F1 hype surrounding him, which no amount of sarcastic humor from the team could conceal. 

Despite everything that happened the night prior, everything remained calm and professional (he barely acknowledged you outside of what he needed to do, which was both a relief and a punch to the gut). 

Between photoshoots and practice sessions, you’d spotted Ollie from afar. Barely anyone could get a hold of him after free practice, as he was justifiably rushing between garages. 

He was up and down the paddock clad in his black Haas shirt, clearly moving with an air of confidence that filled your chest with something you couldn’t describe. This Ollie felt worlds away, which brought you as much joy and pride as it did a hint of melancholy. You were still figuring out what he was making you feel, but at times like this, he felt worlds away.

You were pulled away from your thoughts as quickly as they came to you, as you engrossed yourself in content with the F1 Academy drivers. When you weren’t doing that, you were organizing paperwork, analyzing metrics, and sifting through footage on your phone and camera.

The feeling you suppressed earlier only returned as the F1 cars hit the track. You thought about how near he felt at present, just at touching distance in the space between your hotel room and Grisignano de Zocco; but you also thought about how faraway everything would become after Prema, and how much you’d have to feel if you allowed yourself to let your guard down around Ollie.

After all, every sane racing driver would hope that feeder wouldn’t be forever. Deep inside you, though, you wished this feeling wouldn’t just be hidden in the footnotes of what would become Ollie’s career. Nevertheless, the sheer idea of wanting someone who was literally the face of a future generation of racing amidst the backdrop of him being capable of being wanted by every other person in the world felt incredibly absurd and daunting to say the least. 

(The two of you weren’t even anything. You weren’t really sure about these thoughts.)

After your rumination and the inevitable conclusion of the free practice session, you continued your work as you were directed to. It was entirely a coincidence, though, that your next duties included bringing parts of Ollie’s race kit and his water to his area in the shared driver’s area in preparation for qualifying. As every internship went, you often had miscellaneous work to fulfill.

Kimi had already finished his personal preparations for qualifying, already looking over last minute data, while Ollie was running late due to his prior commitment. The air was undeniably stress-ridden, as your first real encounter of the race day with Ollie was him scrambling to get into his overalls and suit, but you set everything down calmly while pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.” Ollie was the first to break the silence, imploring you to look up at him.

Warmth filled your body at his words. For a moment, you worried that he knew he had some type of effect on you, but you quickly pulled yourself together mentally. 

“One less person to persuade to listen to my content briefs.” You shrugged, smiling at him playfully, almost daring him to retaliate. 

As the rush caught up to both of you, the only cohesive answer to your banter that he gave you before exiting into the garage was a soft squeeze on your forearm. 

“We’re friends, right?” Ollie asked, already tucking himself into your bed without hesitation.

Once Ollie was done slumping over in qualifying debriefs with the team, he made his way to your room again. It was the same routine as last night, just with a lot less talking.

The thing is, you weren’t saying anything either. That in itself said a lot.

You looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes?”

Well, you were sharing a bed, tucked under the same sheets, staring face to face at each other in the dim yellow light of your Barcelona hotel room. 

“Maybe? I don’t know, Ollie—“ You second-guessed for a moment before continuing, “—I’m literally an intern. We work together, technically.” 

Ollie’s face twisted into something unreadable. His eyes shifted to the side as he mouthed the word ‘technically’ under his breath. 

“I mean, I guess we could be friends if you want.” You followed up. God, you felt ridiculous for having a conversation that sounded like this. 

He took a breath, deep and slow. “I want a lot of things,”He answered.

Ollie looked at right you, eyes so big, bright, and endless.

“I know.” You replied impulsively, in a voice barely above a whisper. 

He got so dangerously close to you that you could feel the warmths of his breaths on your face. 

“You don’t.” The weight of his gaze felt like it was melting you from the inside out. “You really don’t.” 

Ollie closed the gap between the two of you, his dry lips engulfing yours for what felt like an eternity, despite it being maybe a five-second peck at most. When he pulled away, you were breathing like he’d taken all of the air out of your lungs just from the sheer pace your heart was beating at.

A look of uncertainty flashed across his almost annoyingly pretty face. The kiss was so sweet, and you hated to be the one to make him question himself.

“We shouldn’t.” You said in conjuction with your uncontrollable heartbeats and air-filled breaths. 

“Then tell me you don’t want this.” Ollie challenged, laying one calloused, warm hand on your cheek.

“Ollie—“ You tried to protest. Every logical part of your brain was telling you how wrong all of this was, and how stupid you were for letting this happen in the first place.

In spite of all that, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t lie to him for the life of you. 

You wanted this so bad. All you could do was want.

You laid your cold hand atop the one cupping your face, and let yourself look back at the earnest look on his face. You felt overexposed, sensitive all over like you’d been put out in the sun for too long.

“Please.” You could barley manage words, but you finally let yourself lean into him to erase every seed of doubt planted in his mind. 

The movement of your lips against one another quickly turned hot and heavy, and you let Ollie take and take everything he could’ve wanted. His hand wandered down to your neck and achingly close to your chest, as his kisses migrated down to your neck.

“We—ah—we really shouldn’t be doing this,” You weakly attempted to be rational, even if your hand was tangled in his hair and heat was quickly pooling between your thighs.

In response, he dove right below your collar bone, beginning with a bite and continuing with not-so-subtly marking you there, coaxing a mix between a gasp, wimper, and a soft moan out of you. 

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t care all that much.

[suuuupernovaaa]

Clean | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

You got yourself into a little bit of a fight, and Hobie has to patch you up.

Mature. 18+. Mention of blood.

The cloth meets your tender skin, and you hiss and try to pull your hand away.

"Hobie, that hurts," you say through gritted teeth. "What is on that?"

Holding your hand tightly to your chest, as if to protect it from him, you look up to see an exasperated expression on his face.

"Stuff to clean it. Give me that back." He grabs your hand a little gruffly, and puts the cloth back on. When the sting subsides, it does feel nice and cool.

"Someone out to teach you how to throw a proper punch," Hobie says, dabbing the cloth gently, moving it up your arm to where your other scrapes are. None of them are terribly deep, except a slight gash on your thigh from, you think, falling onto some broken glass.

"I know how," you reply quietly. He moves to your other arm, and you feel the stinging again. "It wasn't much punching, anyway. It was like... clawing and shoving. It was chaotic."

He gives you your hands back, and looks down at your legs, noticing the cut on your thigh. He lets a whistle out from between his teeth, and stands up. He rinses out the cloth he's been using, and grabs a new one from his kitchen drawer. He puts more 'stuff' on it, and returns to you, sitting down.

"This is gonna hurt." He scoots close, so that your legs are between his, and without another warning, presses the cloth to your cut.

"Oh crap!" you shout, and you're annoyed when Hobie starts chuckling.

"Oh crap!" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, meant to resemble yours. He places a large bandage on your leg, and a couple others on cuts that look a little nastier on your arms, and then sits back. "Think you'll survive," he comments. "Now, you need to tell me why you were in a fight. Looked like a couple of cats in a bag when I arrived."

You turn away, looking from where you sit at his kitchen table over to the TV, which is showing the news. Hobie always has the news on, even though he hates it and everything they ever talk about.

"It just, escalated. She was a fan, I guess, of the band. And she asked if I knew you, and I said yes. And she said... some not nice things. She was just drunk."

You're his whore, then? Do you think I could get in on some of that? I'm sure he's not very picky. I mean, look at you.

You can feel the way she grabbed at your stomach, pinching it. It felt like something scripted out of a bad teen movie, except it was really happening, and she just wouldn't stop.

"What did she say?" Hobie asks. When you look back at him, he's leaned forward, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"It doesn't really matter. It's over."

"It matters to me."

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air, as if to dismiss the conversation. "Really, Hobie. It was just, I don't want to relive it."

He reaches out and places a warm hand on your bruised knee. "Tell me."

You roll your eyes and sigh. "She said like, I must be, uh, sleeping with you and your standards must be low because... I'm like, fat, or whatever."

Hobie sits up, his back straight as a board, his eyebrows raised and his jaw a little slack. "And you beat the shit out of her?"

You draw your line into a straight mouth and nod. "Sort of. I mean, I can't fight but, she was bleeding and crying at the end of it. I was bleeding too but, I wasn't crying."

He nods, as if in approval. "Why does she think we're sleeping together?" he asked. "She's seen you, at a show or something?"

"I didn't get a whole backstory, Hobie. I guess so."

"Hm." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Must've noticed how I look at you. Everyone has. 'Cept you."

How Hobie looks at you? You try to think of what he could be referring to. Sometimes when he's on stage, he finds you in the crowd and smiles. But, you're good friends, so that doesn't seem all that exciting to you - does it seem that way to everyone else?

"How do you look at me?"

"Like I'd like to fuck you, Y/N. Like the shape of your body is all I can think about, and it really doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks about it. It fucking keeps me up at night."

It feels like you've been slapped in the chest, and all the air has left your lungs. Your mouth is instantly dry, and your legs feel weak.

Hobie is so dry, so even-toned, it's hard to tell if he's joking or not - but would that be a funny joke right now? Hobie is a lot of things, but he's not insensitive, and he certainly wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose.

"It does?" you ask finally.

He leans forward again, bringing his face just a few inches from yours. "I want you, Y/N. I thought I'd made it obvious, but now I see, I didn't."

You lick your bottom lip, and Hobie glances down at your mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, as if asking for permission turns him on. You feel his fingertips on your cheek, running upwards, until he cups your face in his hand.

You should close your eyes, you think, but the sight of him coming towards you is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. His soft brown eyes, his full lips, his sharp cheek bones, his glistening piercings; you want to remember every sharp edge and round corner.

He pauses, just before your lips meet and whispers, "Anything you want to do to me, you can."

[emmy19-05]

So Long, London

Ona Batlle x Reader

GIF from: GIF Maker (ios app)

SUMMARY: After multiple years of playing soccer in London, you return to your hometown to join a highly regarded local team. Upon arrival, you are reunited with Ona, an old teammate, who has become a key player on the team. Despite some initial tension and unresolved feelings from the past, Ona offers you a room in her apartment. As you settle in and start training, a flood in your room forces you to stay with Ona, leading to a rekindling of old emotions and a deep, unexpected connection between you two.

SMUT 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Warning!! Contains: cunnilingus, strap/strap sucking, fingering, dirty talk, praising, etc.

(ONA AND THE READER ARE SWITCHES!! They both give and receive in this.)

I’m aware this is longer than most of my other fics😭 but i really enjoyed writing this! This is for all of you who voted for Ona in my poll. haha

Word Count: 2.9k

You are about to board your plane, leaving your old life behind in London. Your time with Chelsea is finally up. You feel sad leaving your old team behind, but you feel you need to start a new chapter in your life. You are excited to go back to your hometown and to hopefully reconnect with some old friends. As you board the plane you think about how excited you are to join the new team who offered you a contract. The team is known in your hometown to be really good and talented, and you can’t wait to meet your new coach and teammates.

You just landed in your hometown, which you haven’t visited in multiple years. You decide to head to your hotel. You just got the offer for the contract recently, so you don’t have a permanent place to stay yet. As you wait in the Uber for the driver to drive you to your hotel, you think about how much you’re going to miss Chelsea and all your friends you almost consider your family.

You realize that your Uber driver is looking at you, you then look out your window to see that you are at your hotel. You hurry up and get out hoping you weren’t staring off into space for too long since he looks annoyed at you. As you walk up to the front desk to check-in you check your phone and see a text from Zecira, a goalie from Chelsea, who you became good friends with during your time at Chelsea. She just wished you a safe travels which you reply a quick thank you and a quick update on everything.

After checking into your hotel, you check the time. It’s currently 3:28pm and you have training at 5pm, you decide to start to get ready. You shower and put on your training kit, excited to meet your new team and coach, you then get into an Uber to head to the stadium.

Traffic is horrible, so you are glad you left early. You forget how bad traffic is here. Especially near the stadium. Your hotel is only 10 minutes away from the stadium, but the Uber’s navigation you can see on the dashboard is saying another 21 minutes. You huff out and start to feel anxious, you simply cannot be late on your first training.

You get into the locker room at 5:24 and you feel immediate relief that you aren’t late . You don’t see any other players in the locker room, so you figure that they’re already on the field warming up. As you put your stuff in your assigned locker, you walk out onto the field at exactly 5:30, well and 39 seconds, but who’s counting? You look around to see if you see the coach so you can go introduce yourself. You spot her in the corner of the pitch talking to some other players. You feel excited to introduce yourself to everyone, but kinda nervous too. You haven’t done much research about the team or who’s on it, you just know they’ve been top of the league for multiple seasons. So you were honored to see they wanted to sign you. As you walk over to your coach you see her look up and smile at you

“Well hello, you must be y/n” The coach says

“Yes, I am! It’s very nice to meet you ma’am.” You say

“Oh please, coach is fine.”

“Ok you got it, coach,” you laugh as she smiles at you.

She’s an older woman probably in her mid 50’s, but she seems really nice. You’re happy at least the coach likes you, well at least you hope.

“Ok, well let’s go introduce you to the team.” Coach says

“Ok, let’s do it.” You smile

You feel tense and nervous hoping you get along with everyone. As you walk up to the team you go to look at all of them, but someone immediately catches your eye. You recognize her from your old team before you made it to the big leagues and moved to London to play in the WSL. You feel tense as she eyes you up and down. You wonder if she recognizes you. It’s been years after all and you look way different. Ona is a full-back, one of the best you’ve ever seen. Ona looks different too, she looks good, really good. You were surprised she never decided to go pro, guess you were wrong because she did, only if you kept in touch. You remember reaching out to her, she always texted you back, of course, but you remember her replies to you always getting shorter and shorter.

You realize the whole time you were thinking about Ona, Coach was introducing you to everyone. You weren’t paying attention at all. It’s going to be awkward having to re-ask everyone’s names because you weren’t paying attention.

“y/n, now that you’ve met everyone, Ona here informed me that you two were on an old team together years back, so I decided to make Ona your official partner for the next few games, consider her a guide. If you have any questions just ask me or her.”

You glare at Ona and she raises her eyebrow and winks. You roll your eyes wondering why Ona after all these years after you ghosting you wanted to be your “guide” you scoff.

“Hello, y/n” Ona walks up to you and says

“Hi,” You say “surprised you remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember you?” Ona says

“Why do you think? Actually never mind don’t answer that. I really don’t care” You begin to walk away.

Ona grabs your wrist and says

“You can’t ignore me forever, princesa,”

You roll your eyes at the nickname she gave you. You remember her calling you that all those years ago then you walk away annoyed.

Game day (2 weeks later)

You are in the locker room getting ready for the first game of the season. Since you barely joined the team; you aren’t starting, but Ona is. You are at least a sub though. You don’t care though it’s routine for every new team you join. You usually don’t immediately start. Especially your first game.

Your team wins the game 3-1. You get subbed in during half-time. You think you did pretty good for your first game on a new team. Ona comes up to you and says

“Hey we are going to go out for some drinks to celebrate if you wanna join us?”

“No thanks” You say

“Oh please, come on.” Ona says

“No, I have to meet up with my real estate agent later tonight and I'm not showing up drunk.”

“Real estate agent, what?” Ona questions

“Since the offer to sign here was so last minute, I am currently staying in a hotel until I can find an apartment to permanently live in.” You say.

One of your teammates puts her arm around Ona’s shoulder and says

“Just stay with Ona for now? You seem to get along, I think at least. Actually, I’m not sure now that I’m thinking about it, but Ona’s roommate just moved out to live with her boyfriend and she has a spare room.” She basically sings out thinking she just solved your problem.

“Absolutely not,” You say. “That’s a horrible idea,”

“What? Why not? That’s actually a good idea, rent is only $1,000 a month each for a two bedroom. I’ll even give you a discount, princesa” Ona says “I was thinking about putting up a “roommate wanted” sign, but I don’t think that’s needed anymore” Ona winks at you.

“Let me think about it,” You say

“Sure,” Ona says.

You go back to the hotel you are staying at and think about the arrangement Ona offered. Only $1,000 a month? That’s nothing. Every apartment in the area is at least $2,000 a month, and that’s for a studio-one bedroom. You decide to text Ona, hoping you still have her number from years ago and that it's still the same.

Me: Yes.

You wait hoping to hear from her soon. While you wait, you decide to shower. You think you probably should’ve been a little more descriptive than just “yes,” but you don’t care, it's fine.

After you shower you hear a ding come from your phone. You pick up your phone, it’s Ona. Your heart rate speeds up.

Ona: I was wondering when I’d hear from you, princesa.

You two talk about a move in date and the payment details and other things about the apartment that you two need to discuss.

Move-in day

You wake up at 9am, you are officially moving into Ona’s apartment today at 10am, you and Ona decided a time that would work for both of you guys. You hate that your only day off you had to wake up so early, but you’re grateful Ona is even letting you move in and is helping you move as well.

You pack up your bags, and since you moved and currently don’t have a car, Ona offered to pick you and your stuff up from the hotel, you happily took the offer.

You get a knock at your door and Ona is there.

“Wow” you say looking at the Apple Watch on your hand “I’m surprised you’re actually 4 minutes early, you must be excited. The one and only Ona Batlle is early for once.” You smile at her and she chuckles at your joke.

Ona helps you get your bags moved into her SUV. You sit in comfortable silence as she drives you downtown to her 2 bedroom apartment, well I guess you could say your guy’s apartment now.

Few hours later…

You are officially moved in. Since you didn’t come with much, just the few suitcases you brought on the plane with you, it only took maybe an hour or two to put all your stuff away. You decide to take a bath from being all sweaty from unpacking. Ona is gone and said she’d be back in a few hours. You turn on the faucet in the bathroom connected to your room and go back to your bed to read for a little bit while the bath fills up.

You wake up to yelling realizing then you fell asleep while reading. You look up at Ona yelling and wondering what she’s on about. You go to get up and your socks feel wet. You then realize you left the water on and your whole room is flooded. Fuck. You think to yourself. The first day you moved in and you flooded your room. Great…

“Ona, oh my god, I am so sorry, I fell asleep I don’t know what I was thinking.” You say “I- I’ll pay for the damage,” You begin to say.

Ona walks up to you and says

“Well this is great, this is only a two bedroom apartment and I don’t even know where you’ll sleep. Who do you even call for a flooding incident? Are there even people for that?” Ona says angrily and confused

“I’m not sure”

“Well it’s saturday, i’m not even sure if places like that are open on weekends, i’ll have to call around on Monday” Ona says “Buckle up, princess, looks like you’re sleeping with me for the next 2 days” she looks at you “minimum,” she continues.

You groan and start to try to apologize again, but Ona cuts you off quickly and says

“It’s fine, it was obviously an accident, don’t worry about it,” She smiles sadly at you.

It’s 1am and you’re trying so hard to stay awake to avoid having to lay with Ona because AWKWARD… But as it hits 1:30am you decide she’s probably sleeping so you’ll just sneak in there and go to sleep. Hoping not to wake her because that’s the last thing you need. She’s already being kind enough by letting you lay with her, you don’t want to wake her up in the process. As you crawl into her bed you close your eyes and immediately start to drift off. It’s been a long day, you think to yourself.

You wake up to feeling something on your stomach. You look at the clock and it reads 3:47am, damn you were barely asleep for 3 hours, damn you Ona. You look down and Ona’s hand is sprawled on your stomach, she begins to play with the drawstrings of your sweatpants you’re currently wearing.

“Ona, you’re sleeping, wake up.” You say

“Not sleeping,” You hear her say

You tense because you think why the fuck is she doing this? It feels too good to tell her to stop though, so you let her continue.

Ona begins to play with your waistband and whispers into your ear

“Can I”

You nod

She slowly creeps her hand into your sweatpants while her front is placed against your back.

“Turn over, sweet girl” She whispers into your ear.

You turn over and she begins to rub you through your underwear.

You moan because damn, Ona knows what she’s doing.

“You don’t know how long I've dreamed of hearing those sounds come from you.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you.

“How long?” You ask

“Since 6 years ago”

You gasp, she’s wanted you all this long? Why did she ghost you then? You think to yourself.

You pull her hands out of your pants and flip her so she’s on her back and you’re straddling her thighs.

You stare at her and Ona pulls you down and kisses you deeply, you moan into her mouth as she fucks your mouth with her tongue. You pull your mouth away from hers and she gasps as you start to kiss her neck sweetly. You begin to kiss down her body and when you get the bottom half of her body, you pull her pants and underwear down.

“Spread your legs for me,” You say

As she does, you put your mouth closer to her and begin to eat her out. She began to moan as you pull your mouth away and begin to finger her.

“Tell me,” You say

“Anything,” Ona says

“Why’d you ghost me all those years ago?” You say

“Anything but that, please.” She says

“Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

She keeps her mouth shut so you pull your fingers out of her and begin to get up.

“Wait no, I’ll tell you just don’t stop, please.” Ona says

You put your fingers back in her and she says

“It hurt too much”

“What do you mean?” You said

“You left me, I liked you so much and you just left, without a second thought.”

“Oh,” You say, feeling ashamed

“I liked you so much, I was going to tell you on my birthday, but left on the 6th, my birthday is on the 10th,” She frowns “You left 4 days before my birthday, you know how sad that made me” she huffs out

“I’m so sorry, I had no clue,” You say sitting there.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” She says

She gets up and flips you so now she’s on top

“I know how you can make it up to me,”

“Yes, anything,” You say

“You can let me fuck you,” She smirks

You begin to smile

“Well, if you’re offering,” You say

“Oh I differently am,” Ona says

She goes to get the strap from the nightstand

You stare at her as she begin to put the harness around her

“Open up” she says

She sticks the strap into your mouth as you begin to suck it

“You like my cock, baby girl?” Ona says “You suck me so good, fuck I could get off just from watching you suck me”

You moan at that, practically begging her to touch you.

“You want me inside you?” Ona smirks

You pull your mouth off the strap

“Yes, please, Ona. Fuck me,” You say

“Spread your legs, just like that, a little wider, there you go, that’s my good girl” Ona says

You moan at her praises.

Ona crawls in between your legs and slips the strap inside you.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful, princesa,” Ona says while staring into your eyes.

“Fuck Ona keep going please” You begin to moan loudly.

You begin to feel yourself about to cum

“Ona, I’m so close, keep going. Don’t stop,”

Ona pulls out of you and you whine, but she immediately starts to eat you out. It feels so good, as good or maybe even better than the strap. Ona knows how to eat someone out, that’s for sure.

She stops eating you out and begins to finger you. While her fingers are still inside you, she comes up and kisses you breathlessly. As she kisses your neck, Ona whispers, only for you to hear.

“Cum for me, princesa,”

You cum. Hard. That was probably the hardest you’ve ever came, you think.

“God, we are so doing that again.” You say as Ona smiles down at you.

“Oh absolutely” Ona says while smiling and slowly kissing your neck.

“Ready for round 2? You say

Ona laughs and starts to crawl down your body

I’m not sure if i’ll make a part 2 on this, let me know if you guys want one! :)

ALSO, who else loves the Taylor Swift reference?😏

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You're hoping to go out for a while on your own, but of course, there's always someone watching closely

─Warnings: mahito, blood, toxic behaviors, obsession, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Four

The blank pages: Part One / Par Two

YOU WERE in a bad position and the next move made you lose the game, you didn't care at all, already used to this routine of losing.

"I don't understand how you can be so bad at playing this."

"I was never interested in board games, and even less so in chess."

You shrugged your shoulders as you watched Sukuna checkmate again, you sighed, narrowing your eyes, this night seemed excessively long, even when the king of curses himself offered you to have friendly games during the nights where you coincided in his domain ─because this idiot didn't have anything better to do either─ after a few games you end up bored, not to mention that you were always the one who lost.

"Let's make a deal, brat."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at his words, you were definitely discovering many unknown tints about Sukuna while you were locked up here, you nodded waiting for him to continue, although you already had your answer in mind, neither you nor him had anything better to do here.

"You don't like sorcerers and neither do I, but I'm not part of the group of villains of mediocre curses, you don't want to be involved with them either, why don't we help each other?"

"How do I know I can trust you? Also, how could I help? I have flesh and blood surveillance cameras out there."

"Once you make a deal, you agree to some rules, if the person breaks them they will receive a punishment, and you can be useful if I use you against them."

"So I only serve as a bargaining chip? What the hell do I gain from that?"

"Protection-"

"Don't I have enough of that already?"

"Shut up and let me finish." you let out a soft sigh, cringing at his demand, this geezer made you tremble in your seat when he seemed angry, but you would never admit it out loud "You don't need more protection, but your family does, don't they? You are not even aware of the dangers they are exposed to."

Again, everyone seemed to know how to play with your feelings, you frowned thinking about your parents, you called them recently to update them on your supposed exchange with other students and they didn't seem consumed by cursed energy or any malaise in general, they definitely seemed better now that you weren't hanging around and attracting all those bad energies, although you were unaware that the real danger was not what you were attracting, but the people who are trying to have you just for themselves, for them your parents were an obstacle.

"Well? We have a deal?"

He extended his hand, with a sly smile as if he were already waiting for an affirmative answer, you remained silent for a couple more seconds, staring at his hand, you brought yours closer, placing it on top of his, but not shaking it.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to reject."

"What!? Are you an idiot?"

"Probably, but maybe this pact will only bring me more problems, you know… the whole fucking world is after you, or your fingers, or your head."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, you could feel his anger expanding even outside his body, you even thought he would kill you right there so he wouldn't see you again for the moment, however he started to laugh, increasing the volume of his laughter like if he were a psychopath.

"You really don't know anything about this world or the people around you, okay, I'll let the weight of your choice fall on your shoulders, but I won't make you the offer again."

You gave him a thumbs up, not even looking at Sukuna as you had your nose stuck in your phone, a little bored with the talk about pacts and protection, if you were going to get out of this cursed world situation it would be on your own and without anyone's help, if that led to your perdition so be it, but at least you could choose what you wanted.

He got a little twitch in his eye when he saw that he was being ignored or that you didn't really care about his comment, annoyed with that electronic device that was taking up all your attention, he seemed like one of those anti-internet parents who believe that the new technologies are the devil, luckily you woke up before he could grab your phone and throw it into the air.

You returned to your routine, each day a little less sane and more annoyed by the attitude of the sorcerers around you, you had thought so many times about accepting Mahito's offers to 'fight' at his side simply to annoy the others, however you would be giving the pleasure to the villains, which you were not going to do either, in no way, no one would have privileges, everyone is equally guilty that your life is now a spiral of obsession and overprotection, not to mention the macabre creatures that chase you.

Sometimes you think that if you had met them under different circumstances you would not have such a forced relationship with some of them, Itadori seemed like a good boy, Megumi has his moments but he is not a bad person, Nobara would be a great friend and Gojo… is a separate topic.

Today was a day in which you thanked all the gods of all the religions ever known, the three of them were on a mission that you were not allowed to go on, Gojo was busy with other matters that you did not know about and you did not know the whereabouts of the sophomores, so you had some peace of mind.

You took the opportunity to leave the vicinity of the Jujutsu high school now that you didn't have eyes on you, throwing yourself into the streets full of noise and normal people, oh how you missed being an npc who simply did daily errands and slept without having to worry about what curses and sorcerers were after you, you would really pay to erase the memory of all the people introduced into your life these last few months.

You walked for a while without any mishap, which made you suspect that everything was too calm, you shrugged, taking out your phone to check the time, however in just a second the object was completely torn from your hands, you blinked with a blank look as you watched the thief run away, too distracted trying not to scream in front of the crowd of people, you didn't notice how a black blur ran off in the same direction as the thief, the same direction you took a second after. You kept all your annoyance to yourself, smiling fully as you followed the path of the asshole who had had the brilliant idea of stealing you, of all people.

There was no way you were letting that guy get away when you bought that phone relatively recently with your own sweat and tears, without the monetary help of your parents, you were not willing to buy another one, plus it was your only way to evade the reality in which you were trapped now. You dodged people, dogs, you were almost run over but you managed to get on the heels of the thief, whatever the case, someone jumped on him before you could trip him and punch him.

"What do you think you're doing!? Shit like you stealing something from my precious sister!"

"AHH- I'm sorry- I- please!"

You stayed frozen in place, your face turned pale, your blood rushing out of your veins as you watched the thief being brutally beaten by the man with two messy buns, oh yeah, you forgot that you had some weirdo following you and proclaiming himself your 'brother'. You slowly walked over to your phone that had been dropped and slid due to the fight, hoping not to draw Choso's attention as he left the guy's face to a pulp, you silently crouched down, checking that, luckily, there weren't any scratches on the screen, with the same tranquility you got up, hoping to be able to continue without being noticed.

The blood that returned to your face left again as quickly as you felt a hand on your shoulder, you clenched your fist knowing that it wouldn't be so easy to get out of this curse's range of attention.

"Choso!"

Without time to react, the same hand that was holding your shoulder pushed you behind some garbage containers, crashing your other shoulder against the wall. You didn't allow yourself to let out a moan of pain because you recognized the voice that had called Choso.

"Mahito… do you need something?"

"No, actually I was just passing by, what's up with that guy?"

He pointed childishly and nonchalantly at the barely conscious thief on the ground, his entire face and surroundings splattered with blood as were the knuckles of his attacker.

"Nothing, I thought he had one of Sukuna's fingers, it turned out to be just a residue of his presence."

"Oh, that's a shame, at least I can have a new toy."

He stuck out his tongue, giving the 'peace' sign to his accomplice, you covered your mouth with your hands and closed your eyes as you heard the screams of pain and terror of the poor devil who had decided to steal you, his body contorted, deforming into a strange thing that Mahito devoured afterwards. You wanted to get out of here if possible without either of them noticing but it would be too difficult to do so, at least, you settled for Mahito not discovering you for the moment, but maybe you should think twice before.

"Oh, why is my favorite human trying to hide?"

You jumped in fear immediately as you came face to face with his sickly smile, taking a second to look behind him and see Choso's irritated face who seemed to want to spend time with you alone and not with Mahito involved.

The situation in which you least wanted to be involved, trapped with the greatest threats to your life expectancy, and not only because they could kill you just by touching your body, but because they exhausted your entire social battery exponentially, were, without a doubt, worse than being caught in a fight between Gojo and Sukuna, these curses would make you seriously reconsider whether life is really worth it.

The change from walking the streets of the city encapsulated in your own thoughts to walking the streets with two possibly precursors of human extinction was a huge leap, definitely something you didn't expect to be doing, if they gave you the choice, you'd rather be listening to everything Nobara had done in her training while Itadori fought for your attention, but here you were, holding Choso's hand because he was too paranoid of losing you among the people frequenting a crowded street while Mahito looked at all the stores like a child full of curiosity.

The truth is that you thought it was going to be something worse, you thought you would see a lot more blood, murders or something like that ─maybe today just wasn't the time─, after all these guys were considered the villains, however you swallowed your words when you even found yourself “enjoying” the rest of the afternoon, it wasn't much different than how the sorcerers treated you, they just dragged you around talking to themselves as you barely answered them or simply nodded or denied their words.

The sensation was so ordinary at this point that you felt like it was Nobara who was pulling your hand instead of Choso, you even noticed the same concern in his eyes when you tripped over your own feet because you were distracted.

When the sun began to set on the horizon, letting the cold tones paint the sky, you decided that you had to leave, you were not the only one who thought about it, although Mahito knows that he could use you to his advantage, he knew that threats Sukuna's were not things to play with, and he had already been warned once, he just watched from afar as Choso said goodbye to you, disinterested but without taking his eyes off your face, a smile beginning to appear on his face as he imagined the different ways in which to destroy that pretty face of yours, not for you, but to see the expressions that those who had so much esteem for you would make, just thinking about their expressions when they saw your death caused him an indescribable feeling.

"Send me a message when you arrive, don't take shortcuts and go through busy streets and ah- take this, it's starting to get cold, I don't want you to get sick."

Choso bombarded you with requests to get to the school safely since they couldn't get anywhere near there, you ignored the fact that he stole your phone to add his number and loosened the scarf he had wrapped around your neck since he pulled it too tight, just you agreed to all his requests in the hope that he could set you free once and for all, promising that you would send him over if some weirdo did anything to you.

You sighed in relief once you crossed a corner, losing sight of Mahito's amused gaze and Choso's distressed one, although your relief didn't last long when you bumped into a man's arm, not just any man.

"Here you were…" he took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes "Do you know the commotion you've caused by disappearing like that out of nowhere?"

Nanami looked at you with a slight frown, you shrugged not knowing what to answer him, he himself seemed worried enough about your whereabouts, his breathing was slightly accelerated and his usually neat hair had a couple of loose strands.

"I'm… sorry?"

He sighed heavily at your inability to understand everyone's concern, he took you safely back to the high school where everyone was waiting impatiently to receive the news from the blonde. Once there you were greeted by two pairs of arms clinging to you, Nobara and Itadori still not learning that thing about personal space, Megumi was simply scanning you, frowning at the scarf, Gojo remained silent, scanning your body for of possible injuries with the help of the power of the six eyes, he smiled to himself when he saw no scratches, but his face darkened when he saw traces of cursed energy, not just any cursed energy of course. He knew you were smart enough not to switch sides, so he should keep you further away from the idea of going out on your own again.

You narrowed your eyes as you felt his gaze on you despite having his eyes covered, he only greeted you with a giggle, commenting that you were lucky that 'Nanamin' had found you in time before something bad happened to you.

When the worry of the moment passed, everyone dispersed to do whatever they were doing before discovering that you were nowhere to be found, only you and Megumi were left in the room.

"You look exhausted."

Before you could figure out if you could sleep peacefully today or play chess another night with Sukuna, he began a light chat with you.

"Why would it be?"

You responded sarcastically, following the talk for a couple of minutes until you decided you had enough human or cursed interaction for the day, your bed was waiting for you and your tears had been trapped inside your eyes for a long time, you needed some comfort that right now only you pillow ─and sometimes not even that─ could give you.

[writing-mlm]

Idk if you take requests right now, but if you do, can you please write more damian wayne x reader 🙏

Sincerely, someone who has been scavenging for damian fics for days 😔

New Years, Same Words [D.W]

Summary: He's tired of hiding, but damn Damian cannot be subtle for the life of him. Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 8.8k

a/n: recs are always open :3

Back home, school was so different, almost every single detail was different. The way humans digested information was so slow and inefficient; back home students wore helmets and immediately got the knowledge they’d need. No need for lectures or turn and talks. They’re learning ideas and math that, quite frankly, a child back home would’ve already learned. 

But, you enjoyed this style. No matter how stupid it was. Back home, you never really had a chance to bond with peers or enjoy any activities like art or music. It was telepathic lessons and then home, usually, that’s when the kids would play together. But the school-sanctioned together time was nice. 

Everything else sucked. 

The hallways were cramped and you had to watch extra carefully to not bump into people and break their shoulders. No matter how badly you wanted to. 

“(Y/n)!” You hear from across the hall and look over, seeing your adoptive brother running down the hallway with his bag almost slipping from his shoulder. “I’m here!” He says, beaming as he stands next to you. 

    “You’re a mess,” You chide while fixing his bag and almost pick him up in the process. “Apologies.” 

“You ready for class?” He almost groans as he says it. “I swear, if she gives us another pop quiz, I’m going to laser her!” He whispers the last part and you chuckle. 

   “No quiz,” You reassure him, turning down the hallway. ELA was at the end of the hallway, right next to the smelly staircase where kids go to smoke or leave the building due to a faulty alarm system. “I heard we have a project.” 

“From who?” He says, voice raising several octaves. Jon has this thing, he doesn’t believe news from certain people, even if they’re later proven to be right. 

   “Marissa,” He stops walking and you can basically hear his thoughts. He’s so debating skipping class. “She said it’s not bad, c’mon!” Grabbing the back of his collar, you pull him after you as you hear the start of the warning bell. Quickly, you pull your headphones from around your neck to your ears and the bell rings. 

It’s at a human volume with the headphones on, so it’s still loud but not nearly as loud as it would’ve been otherwise. 

School back home also didn’t have bells. 

Sliding into your seat, you drop your bag in between your legs while glancing around. Mostly everyone is in class, save for a couple of people. The teacher is late, but you can hear her running up the staircase— not the smelly one, one that’s going to take her at least two minutes to get to class. She never uses a different staircase. 

Mrs. Elton is particular about that sort of stuff, her classroom never changes. She’s gone as far as to superglue the desks in a permanent shape around the class. There are three groups of desks, two in the front and one in the back. The one in the back is a straight horizontal line of seven desks while the front ones are arranged in an upside-down T shape. The vertical side of the T has eight tables, with four tables turned to face each other, while the horizontal side has four desks. 

Your seat is in the front, on the horizontal line. While seats aren’t technically assigned, they totally are assigned amongst everyone else. Jon has the seat in front of you, and he can never see the board properly since he has to turn his whole body around to see it. 

Mrs. Elton finishes her run up the stairs as the final bell goes off and the remaining students trickle into class. Amongst them is your other seatmate, the girl who sits to your right. She looks a little upset but she visibly calms down when she sees you. 

“I thought you were absent,” She tells you as she walks around your chair to get to hers. “You weren’t in second period, what the fuck, dude?” She playfully hits you with her bag before it settles on her lap.

   “I was late,” You shrug, watching her pull out her pink Macbook case with several stickers on it. “Why, what happened second?” She gives you a look before she slips her bag down to the floor and you raise an eyebrow, looking at Jon who shrugs. 

   “They were making plans to make a bomb for the winter dance.” She says. “Those two kids who always sit in the back, like that’s normal right?” You nod, the two kids in the back always talk about school shootings and whatnot but they’re typically harmless. “They talked about how their orders for materials came in and exactly where they’re gonna plant it.” 

“Text me,” She nods and Mrs. Elton walks into the room, effectively silencing the class. She’s dressed like an English teacher, which you hadn’t known was a stereotype for the longest. You thought there were dress codes for each subject teachers. 

Go figure. 

“Good morning!” She smiles, her kitten heels clicking on the brown tiled floor as she heads over to her desk. Her laptop is already connected to the smart board so she only has to log back in. “How was everyone’s weekend?” There are some murmurs amongst the kids but she takes what she can get. 

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we have a project!” With her presentation on the screen, she turns to face everyone and clasps her hands together. “This will not be a group project, but there are many options to choose from.” She turns around again, fiddling with the keyboard. “Skipping the do now, let’s get right into it.” She pulls up a slide that’s blank for now. She does this thing where she presses a button and words pop up. “The Best Friend project!” She announces as it pops up on the board. 

“This is different from your other projects since this is a project that’s a week long. You only get this week to do it and everyone will be presenting next week. We’ll do it by volunteer order, if no one volunteers then I will call you to go!” She explains and you glance over at Jon. His back is to you, but you can see him rubbing his forehead. 

“As seniors, you need to understand how to present. But this is an easier one to do since I’m giving you so many options!” A list of options pops up as she says that. “Firstly, you can make a photo slideshow and explain your friendship; you can make a video collage with a voiceover, you can write a newspaper article and read it to the class, or you can bring the person in. But only if they do not have my class. So say Blake wanted to do his project on say… Michael, he could not bring him in. But if Blake wanted to do his project on his neighbor, he could bring them in. Understand?” Everyone nods and she moves on. 

“Pick the way you want to do your project today,” She says, looking over the class. “After today, we will not be working on this during class, we will continue to read Salvage the Bones.” 

“Go ahead! Start!” She smiles and turns on the class playlist as everyone turns to their laptops. 

“Who’re you doing yours on?” Amira asks, already on a blank slideshow document. 

   “Not you,” You laugh and she fake scoffs. “You don’t know him, though.” She hums in acknowledgment. 

   “Do I?” Jon asks and you look at him, head tilted and lips pulled into your mouth. “Ohhh!” He nods. “I’m doing mine on Jay!” 

“Fun,” You offer a smile and look over the options. 

Writing in English is not your strong suit, it’s why you weren’t allowed into AP classes. You were amazing with working on stuff but you were still learning English, despite living on Earth for four years now. Kara says that’s normal and it took her ages to get to your level of speaking and understanding English, but you feel stupid struggling with the words. 

You pull out your phone and open your messages. 

would u come to my school next week

4 a project 

What type of project? 

‘best friend project’ 

Is this like Show and Tell? 

idk what that is…

I’ll explain later. 

But I’ll agree, explain it to me tonight, okay?

kk :3

Closing your phone, you set it face down on the desk and look over the “bring a person in” section. It says you can either give a completely verbal presentation but you’ll need to create a transcript for it, for proper grading, or you can create a presentation in which the two of you explain what’s happening. You opt for the second one. 

There are some requirements, though. Each presentation needs to be at least ten minutes long; which you think is absurd, there cannot be any cursing included, and visual aids are required for all but the verbal presentation. Videos cannot be longer than two minutes, and only a maximum of two videos— each of them gives an extra five points to your grade. 

“Imagine someone does Damian Wayne.” The local Gothamite, Rebecca laughs and you share a look with Jon.

   “I totally am!” Her friend, Mariam jokes. “We’ve been dating for ages, darling!” Her group shares a laugh and your mind is settled on doing yours on him. 

—

Meeting Damian during his patrols had become somewhat of the norm since you started dating. For many reasons, but mainly since Batman doesn’t have super hearing, despite what the general public and some heroes may think. While you’re not entirely out of earshot of Kal-El, being in Gotham meant that he would have to focus a bit more on listening to you instead of doing whatever he was doing back home. Sure, sometimes Damian came to Metropolis, but that was rare. Only one of you could get to and from in three seconds, after all. 

“So,” You start as you slowly lower yourself down to the roof he's standing on, it’s on the outer side of Gotham, away from any of the normal patrol spots. “You’re dating someone else?” Robin frowns and crosses his arms. 

   “Ya albi, never.” He says in the most reassuring tone you’ve ever heard him speak in while slowly pulling you close. “Where’d you hear this?” It’s hard continuing the charade and you give up, a grin spreading across your face. It lets him immediately know and his frown goes into an unamused glare. 

    “These girls were joking about dating you during class,” You explain as he pushes you away and rolls his eyes. You smile and pull him back towards you, he crosses his arms and makes a point to keep a distance between the two of you.  

“Moving on,” He fixes your cape before wrapping his hands around your shoulders and pulling you down to his height. Leaning in, you watch his eyes close before he kisses you and you let your eyes close. Pulling him closer, you dig your fingers into his hips and smile when he smiles. 

“I was thinking,” He says when the two of you pull away. “We should go to the New Year’s gala together,” You pause, standing up straight and looking over the Gotham skyline before back at him. 

   “As us?” You ask and he nods, his eyes searching your face for any signs of… anything really. 

    “We could go as us for the one father is hosting and then as Robin and Rao for the Justice League party.” He suggests and he means it. He’s just as tired of kissing in corners as you are and you smile, big and bright before calming yourself. 

    “Are you sure? This is an incredibly big step, there’s no taking it back.” 

You’ve thought about this moment before. Even before you started dating, you’d daydream about the world finding out Robin and Rao were dating. About the world finding out that Damian Wayne is dating the adopted son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, the world's best reporters. 

It wasn’t always the best in your head, you thought of the villains and the press. The jealous fans and suddenly you’re no longer just that kid in school. 

And you didn’t care. You’d thought of every single bad scenario, every scenario that almost made Clark and Lois break up; but it didn’t matter. You… you were in love with Damian, in every way. All of him, whatever he came with you were down for. You’d kill for him— you have killed for him. Not that he ever has to find that out. 

“Rao,” He says in a stern voice, pulling you back to him. “I… I want you forever. Why would I take any of this— of us back?” He asks as if you’ve offended him, his eyes darting between yours as he speaks. He’s talking as if you had thought so little of him as to think he wasn’t in the relationship a thousand percent. That you weren’t the best thing in his life and he’d do everything to not lose you. 

“I dunno,” You shrug, letting go of him but he grabs your hands to stop you from moving. “What if you want someone else one day? Someone who can’t hear the fact that your heart is racing and your blood is rushing? Or the fact that Batman is trying to reach you right now.” From several streets over, you can hear Bruce speaking into his comm trying to reach Damian. He’s asking Barbara why he isn’t responding, worried for his son. 

“I will never want someone else.” He promises, squeezing your hand and clicks his earpiece to turn it back on. 

“Yes, father?” He takes a step away but doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“Robin, where have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for ten minutes” You hear Bruce tell him, worry lacing his voice. 

    “Sorry, father. I accidentally turned it off.” Damian gives you a look that screams not to laugh. 

    “There’s a robbery close to you, it’s just Catwoman,” Bruce explains and Damian sighs, saying he’s going on it. Better than to have his father go and have sex on the roof again. 

He still couldn't get the picture out of his head when the gossip pages found them one day. He almost moved out after that. 

“Call me,” You smile as you begin to hover above the roof. “I still gotta explain the project to you.”

“Yknow, this could go by faster if you helped.” He offers and you laugh. 

   “Is Robin asking me for help?” He scoffs and lets go of your hand before walking to the edge of the roof. You watch him, already knowing your answer to his request but you wanted to see how long it would take him to say something. 

“Let’s go!” He calls and you grin, flying over to him and he lets you scoop him up before heading over to the bank. 

—

A week comes and goes, you’d finished your presentation the same day you had told Damian about it. Clark and Bruce insisted on getting it done as quickly as possible— you’d just take any excuse to spend the night in a fucking manor. 

“Good morning!” Mrs. Elton smiles as the final bell rings. “I’m so glad some of you signed up to give your presentations, uhh—“ She looks at a notepad on her desk, reading over the names. “Today we have (Y/n), Rebecca, Julie, and Jesus!” A little confused, you try and think if there’s another (Y/n) in your class. But you’re the only one in the entire grade. And you sure as hell did not sign up. 

“You signed up?” Amira whispers and you shake your head. 

    “I absolutely did not!” You whisper back, pulling your phone from your bag to text Damian. God, it would probably take him at least half an hour to get from Gotham to Metropolis. But as you open your phone, you realize there wasn’t a mixup with the volunteers. 

I’m in the office, about to head up. 

The text had been sent two minutes ago, and when you look up you can see him at the door. He sees you see him and ducks out of view before anyone else can. You should’ve listened harder, you could’ve spotted his heartbeat sooner. 

“Oh, you’re doing a buddy presentation?” Mrs. Elton says as she looks over your slides. You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are they here?” Again, you nod and she smiles. “Excellent! Bring them in!” Standing up, you head to the door and step outside.

“One second, Ms!” You say before the door closes. Damian is leaning against the wall opposite to the room. He’s dressed a little fancier than he normally is, a turtleneck and slacks. But he’s wearing a pair of thick, black boots. Are those yours..?

“You asshole!” You whisper, ignoring the boot situation and he looks at you, faking a confused look. “I’m shitting myself, dude! Oh my god!” You rush over to him, running your hands over your face as you talk. 

   “Habibi,” He places a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll do fine, it’s nothing compared to fighting Lex, right?” Sighing, you nod and calm yourself. You’d given speeches to entire countries before, this is a walk in the park comparatively. “Good, now let’s go.” He turns you around to face the door and for some reason, talking to the President was easier than walking into that classroom. 

Nope. Not fine. 

But he guides you back into the classroom and you stand at the open door. 

“Come on in!” Mrs. Elton encouraged you with a smile and a gentle wave to usher you over. Licking your lips, you head inside and Damian steps in after you. Immediately there are murmurs throughout the room and several eyes land on him. Mariam gasps and slaps Rebecca’s arm. She’s been on her phone, mostly uninterested for the most part but when she looks up her eyes go wide. 

“You may start,” Mrs. Elton hands you a remote that lets you control the slides and you thank her, fiddling with the remote as you and Damian stand off to the side of the screen.

“My best friend is Damian,” You start, trying to shake off the feeling of absolute dread over you. Not that it works.  “Um… I met him what— two, three years ago?” Time is hard for you, times blend together and merge, sometimes stretching to points where they couldn’t have possibly happened. But Kara thinks it’s the lingering effects of the Phantom Zone. 

   “Four,” He corrects and looks over at you. “I was there when you arrived.” That’s right, you’d forgotten when you crashed into Earth. Bruce and Damian had gone with Clark when the Watchtower got a reading of a spaceship entering Earth's orbit. You’d crashed into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and almost sunk to the bottom of the sea. 

You nod, looking back to the class. “Four years ago, when I was adopted, I met him. I think he hated me back then, though.” You chuckle, pressing the slide to pictures you have where the then fourteen-year-old Damian was either attacking you or clearly yelling. In all of the pictures, you’re unbothered or confused, still learning the language. “Can’t imagine why, probably because I’m black.” 

“It’s because you kept breaking my stuff,” He corrects quickly. “I went through five phones, six doors, and I think twenty windows that first month.” He lists and you want to defend yourself, imagine suddenly being so strong that a simple nudge could send walls toppling down but you can’t say that. 

   “Don’t remember that,” Shaking your head, you click to the next slide and look at it. You’d forgotten all about that trip. 

“This was when my father took the Kent’s on vacation to The Netherlands,” Damian says, looking at the picture of you looking out of the plane window. You look unamused and you remember saying I can see this all the time, why would I get the window seat? And you ended up switching seats with Jon. Another picture is of you and Damian sitting on the windowsill of the hotel, it’s nighttime and you’re both watching the stars. 

You remembered talking to him about your home and he’d talked to you about his. 

Another picture is Damian, Jon, and you at a creek. You and Jon are knee-deep in the water but Damian is sitting on a tire swing, clearly disgusted about the idea. He’s yelled about bugs, parasites, and fish pee infecting the water. Jon wanted to throw him in, but you talked him down. 

“We spent a week there,” You explain, looking back at the class. “I think that’s when we actually became friends.” He agrees, giving a small nod and you click to the next slide. It’s a video, and from the thumbnail, it’s set around Christmastime.

You’re in the woods, wearing a jacket Lois had gifted you; Damian is holding the phone from what you remember.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Damian’s voice is the first thing you hear as the video starts. It’s different from his voice now and you wonder when the change happened. 

   “I’m good!” You dismiss and pick up your pace when you see the thing you’ve been looking for. It’s a little embarrassing hearing your voice, especially how you sounded back then. But it’s still a fond memory. 

In the middle of the forest was a lake, and it had frozen over. Clark had wanted to give it a couple of weeks to get to a proper thickness and you felt you’d waited long enough. It had been four weeks already, and you heard Alaska got pretty cold. 

“Do not,” Damian warns as you hold onto a tree, lowering yourself onto the ice. “(Y/n)!” He sets the phone down on a fallen tree and goes into view of the camera, following after you. But his point was to get as close to you as possible without getting onto the ice. 

“I’m fine, Damian!” You wave him off, putting a foot onto the ice. “It’s slippery!” You gasp, putting your other foot, and struggle to find your balance for a good second. 

   “It’s ice.” He reminds, still holding his hand out. “Now, c’mon! That’s dangerous, even for you.” Looking at him, you hold your hands on your hips and grin. Your balance is much better now that you’ve gotten your bearings. 

“Nothing bad ever happens to me!” You declare and take a shaky step further into the lake. It’s more difficult than just standing and you’re tempted to just cheat by flying a little bit. 

   “You’re an orphan for a reason,” He sighs and you loudly boo at him. You must’ve booed him for a good five seconds, both your thumbs pointed down and he rolls his eyes. 

   “One bad thing happened to me!” Taking another step, you almost fall and he lunges to grab you but you’re able to remain upright. 

“See,” You look at him and he shakes his head, carefully inspecting the ice. His body language changes when he does and he takes a mini step closer, holding his hand out with a sense of urgency. 

“Off the ice, now.” He demands and you look down. You can hear the cracks forming and there are white lines starting to appear. But you’d assumed the noises had been from the woods. “(Y/n),” Looking up at him, you grab his hand and he pulls you towards him. 

The ice lets out a sharp crack and you remember watching the ice fall into the water as the two of you fell back into the snow, your heart swelling with some feeling. It wasn’t even the fact that you’d almost fallen, you were more than sure you would’ve been a-okay; it was the fact that he had cared that much about your safety. 

“I could’ve flown,” You whisper, looking at the spot you’d been standing at. The video doesn’t pick it up, but you remember what happened. How the two of you had fallen back and he held you tightly until that point. 

“Doesn’t mean you can be so reckless,” He says, standing up before pulling you up. “Let’s head back to the cabin, be glad Lois isn’t here to scold you.” He picks the camera up as he speaks and you roll your eyes. 

   “I’m sure you’re gonna tell her either way.” The video ends and you look towards your classmates again. 

“That’s an example of why I’m the best,” You announce, faking being serious. “But in my defense, it was my second winter ever and I was very excited.” Back home, the weather was just… not cold. At least where you lived. 

   “And stupid,” Damian mutters and you nudge him, hiding your grin. He nudges you back and you’re about to start a stupid nudging war when Mrs. Elton clears her throat. 

“When was this?” Mrs. Elton asks, motioning to the video. 

    “Two years ago,” You answer, looking back to the video that’s stuck on a still of Damian and you walking up, a cheesy grin on your face while he’s less than impressed. “Clark and Lois rented out a cabin in Alaska, I invited Damian. We spent the weekend there and he never did tell Lois about the incident.” But Clark surely did hear, so when you returned there was some discussion about safety and caution. 

“That same day, (Y/n) decided it would be a good idea to try and befriend a wild bear,” Damian says and you scoff, going to the next slide. 

  “Me and Jerry did become friends,” You grumble. 

“This is for my birthday last year,” Damian says as he looks at the picture that’s in an apartment Bruce rented so Damian could have a small party with just his friends. He saw Billy, Cassie, Bart, Wally, Jackson, Nika, Jon, Courtney (who he didn’t really know, she was more your friend since he had no interest in Stargirl), Jaime, and you standing around a table with him in the center. There’s a birthday cake but most of it is hidden by the several bodies in front of it. 

He has a ridiculous paper party hat on and there’s some frosting on his nose. He looks less than amused but you remember he put up no protest to any of the things that happened that night. Although Wally said it’s because it was you doing it and had it been anyone else, they would’ve lost an arm.

And he agreed! 

There’s a green Happy Birthday balloon banner behind him and in a different picture, it’s the two of you standing in front of it. You’re both holding sparklers, which was incredibly dangerous according to basically everyone else. But it’s an apartment filled with teen superheroes, a little sparkler was not going to be the thing that caused damage. 

“It was a group sleepover,” You announce, staring at the picture Jaime had taken of everyone sleeping on the large couch. There are several blankets over people so no one’s really huddled together for warmth until you see you and Damian in the corner of the couch. 

You’re still awake, on your phone but Damian is knocked the fuck out, his head is on your shoulder and if you squint, you can see his legs wrapped in yours under the cover. Your arm is around him, keeping him from rolling onto someone who’s sleeping close by. 

“I didn’t think you’d put that one,” You whisper, admiring the picture. When making the presentation, Damian had suggested that you each get ‘secret slides’ and the others were not allowed to look until the day off. Your slide was the ice video. 

   “Nika considers it a soft launch, whatever that means.” He grins and you smile. 

There’s another picture, but it’s a picture of a picture. Taken on those handheld cameras that were really popular in the early 2000s. It’s of you, Damian, and Nika. The three of you are in the kitchen, sitting on the kitchen island with Damian in the middle. 

You’re eating cake, surprised that someone was going around taking pictures while Nika is blowing a kiss to the camera and Damian is actually smiling for the picture. 

There’s a picture right next to it where you’re actually posed. Your back is to Damian and Nika copies as the two of you fake holding guns, acting as his bodyguards. He’s playfully rolling his eyes, and there’s a wider grin on his face in that picture. It was actually your screen saver. 

Honestly, when you first met Flatline, you were kinda upset. She did kinda kill him and then they became best friends? It was confusing as all hell but whatever, you warmed up to her and she was actually really cool. 

“The cake was super good,” You note as you press the next slide. It’s another video, and it’s still from the birthday party. “I don’t remember this,” You admit, looking at the thumbnail. It’s when he’s being sung Happy Birthday. 

  “I do,” He smirks as the video plays. You could hear his heartbeat pick up a little bit and you’d have to admit you’re a little worried about the video. 

“-irthday to you, happy birthday to you! Make a wish!” Everyone says and Damian takes a second. His thinking face only appears for a second before he closes his eyes and blows out his candles. They go out and everyone cheers as he stands up tall. 

   “Try the cake!” Nika shouts from the back. 

“Come, aynii,” He tells you and you emerge from the small crowd as he wipes frosting onto his finger. You remember this exact moment and you blink, a slow and long blink as you smile. Damian notices and his heart picks up even more. He tries his best to look composed but Jon can see you unraveling in that moment. 

The class watches as he wipes the frosting onto your lips quickly enough that you don’t have time to react before he kisses you. 

And it’s an absolute riot when he does. Cheers and shouts take over the room. The kiss doesn’t last long as in the video, the people in the video are also cheering and you pull away, clearly flustered with so many people watching. He presses a quick final kiss to your lips and then licks his, fake-tasting the frosting while you wipe the frosting from your nose. 

“Tastes lovely,” Damian tells Nika as the video ends. It ends with you turning away from the camera and Damian pulling you closer to the table and him. 

“It was vanilla flavor,” Damian tells the class as they settle down. “That’s the last of the pictures,” The ten-minute requirement isn’t up yet, you have about two minutes left so your teacher suggests answering some people’s questions and you just know they are not going to be about anything other than the video. 

“How long have you been dating?” Mariam asks. 

   “Two and a half years,” Damian answers without hesitation, his hand slipping into yours. You feel his pulse settling down against your skin and run your thumb across the small, barely visible scars littering the back of his hand. 

So much for a soft launch. 

—

It turns out that the student was not live, but he did in fact post the video online. Very publicly, as it was viral absolutely everywhere. It even reached Worldstar, which you thought died out several years ago. You’d seen it across all your feeds, you’d been tagged a bunch and even sent it directly. News outlets have even contacted you and there've been some vague threats for your life, but nothing you haven’t seen before. It’s just a headache seeing so many new messages you end up making entirely new accounts and setting them to private. 

Clark and Bruce had both sat the two of you down when they saw it— which was immediately after it was posted. Seeing as one of them is a high-profile billionaire and the other is a high-profile reporter married to another high-profile reporter and journalist. There was an extremely long talk about… relationship stuff, and it was a little awkward when Bruce asked about some private information. Damian shut it down, though. Giving vague but concise answers to their questions while you tried to bury yourself on the couch. 

They ended with basically; you’re both 18, so you’re old enough, blah blah blah, wrap it and tap it, blah blah blah, at least there won’t be pregnancy scares, blah blah blah, no more sleepovers. 

That part wasn’t going to be in place for long, though.  

All in all, the worst part to come out of the situation thus far was the sudden attention on your back. 

People in school suddenly knew your name and while no one was acting strange, it was weird that people would suddenly be nicer to you. But at least no one was homophobic, that was something you were not going to complain about. 

“So,” Rebecca and her group of friends swipe the seats around you as you’re finishing up some of your work during gym class. “Damian Wayne?” She grins, sitting next in front of you. 

   “That is my boyfriend.” You hum, slowly closing your laptop. 

    “Good!” She grins. “Because we used to go to school together and I’ve never seen him so happy before! Everyone called— fuck it, probably still calls him Arab Psycho.” She imitates his public resting face, albeit very poorly and you think for a second. It’s that human movie. Tim talks about it. 

   “American Psycho but he’s Arab…” You ask and she nods. 

   “Always felt racist but those rich white fuckers didn’t care.” She explains and you hum. 

“You’re sweet,” She says. “Has he asked you to the winter dance yet?” Rebecca grins, her nails tapping against the glossy floor. “Oh my god! You two would totally be Winter formal royalty!” 

“I’m not going.” She frowns and her friends make awww sounds. It’s kinda hard to explain you’re gonna spend the night as Rao, making sure kids don’t try and blow up your school. Not to mention the fact that you really did want to go, but shit happens and you’ve been to every other school dance. And there’s still prom. “But he did ask.” 

“You’re stronger than me.” Kirara shakes her head. “What’s your Instagram, by the way?” 

—

The day of the dance rolls around and you’re stuck with Damian on the roof of the building across from the school. Forced to listen to the music and watch people dance with their dates, just waiting and watching. He notices, of course. But he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He’s always avoided school dances, they felt trivial, beneath him. But you enjoyed the American school traditions like those. 

He remembers whenever you’d hang out at the manor you’d insist on watching some high school movie, especially if they had dances. Apparently, they weren’t a big deal back home. 

You can’t move from the roof until you’re sure there’s no bomb. Your super-vision didn’t show anything and you scouted the place the two kids talked about but nothing. Jack shit popped up. But the two kids aren’t home, so there’s a chance they might show up and do it later. A mix of Carrie and Heathers, you suppose. 

It’s about midway through the dance that something happens. You recognize their dingy car— think a rusted car that is literally duct-taped together and one wind gust from breaking apart. The two of you slink into the shadows and you watch as they open the trunk, grabbing the bomb.

“At least this wasn’t for nothing,” You mutter and fly down, landing about four paces behind them. Robin lands in front of the car, his arms crossed and head tilted up. 

“Planning something?” You ask and they spin around, the taller one slams the trunk shut while the shorter one stuffs something into his jacket pocket. 

   “Just a dance…” Short laughs, tucking his arms under his chest. 

“And a bomb?” Robin asks and they spin around to see him. And it’s like the absolute life had drained out of them when they realized they had two vigilantes on them. One with a sword and the other with fucking heat vision. 

“We’re sorry!” Tall shouted, getting on his knees, and his hands were in the air within seconds. 

   “Dude…” Short grumbles and removes the poorly made bomb from his shirt and places it on the ground before getting on his knees. “Fucking pussy.” He glares at his friends while Robin calls for the cops to pick the two up. 

You pick up the bomb, looking it over. It’s about the size of a football and fairly heavy. But the intent was clearly there, you doubt it would’ve worked. They didn’t connect the wires properly. Seems they must’ve missed a step in their plans. 

The cops arrive soon after along with the bomb squad. They say the bomb is safe and the two kids get locked up. Before, they used to hound for you to go back to the station to make a statement but they know you’ll show up soon and leave with a quick thank you. 

“Cops in Gotham never thank us,” Robin huffs, watching them drive off. 

   “We’re nice here,” You shrug, looking at the school. “Wanna go to the Titans?” He looks at you and your barely hidden frown and then at the school. He’s sure his dignity isn’t as fragile as it seems because the decision isn’t a hard one to make. 

“We could go inside.” The frown turns into a smile and you rush inside, your cape bellowing with how fast you move. He rolls your eyes but follows you towards the music. 

Of course, the two of you cause a stir in the gym as everyone sees Rao and Robin at their shitty high school dance, slow dancing to the cheesy song playing but that’s perfectly fine. Everyone sorta returns to their own devices when they remember you’re two teenagers who probably just want to experience a dance. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him as the night wraps up. Mariam and some dude who wasn’t her date were voted as the Winter Formal Royalty, despite them trying to give the crowns to the two of you. “This was fun. Very human.” You laugh at the last part, watching as kids get into their parent's car and head on home. You see Jon is waiting for Clark with Jay, he has a strict rule of not interacting with you when one of you is out of uniform. Something about being a horrible liar.

   “It was my pleasure seeing you smile.” He says, settling on the railing of the steps. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t enjoy it normally.” He adds, his eyes flickering to the large S symbol on your chest and then to your masked face. 

“Please,” You huff, sitting next to him. “We stopped a bomb. It was a… bad bomb, but still.” 

“You’re still here!” Mariam gasps when she sees the two of you. She has her heels in one hand and her phone in the other so her date holds the door open for her. “Good! Here—here, take it!” She hands you her crown and the other crown. Apparently the king didn’t care for it and gave it to her. “Don’t say no, either.” She shakes the crowns for you to take and you laugh, grabbing the king's crown while Damian takes the queen. 

“Okay, thank you.” The plastic crowns are but paper to you, so you take extra care not to break it. 

   “Put it on!” She urges, taking some steps back, and points her camera to the two of you. Robin looks at you and takes your crown from you, setting the crown on your head before putting his own. “Y’all are too cute!” She gushes and takes about ten pictures. You’re posing, of course, about three different poses and she’s hyping the two of you up beyond belief. 

“I’ll send these to you, bye-bye!” She shouts, running down the stairs while her boyfriend gets in the car. 

   “Bye-bye!” You call back.

“Clarks here,” Robin nudges your hand and you see Jon get into the car. 

“Break has officially started!” Someone shouts from the parking lot. “See yall mother fuckers next year!” You laugh, and float up, pulling Robin up with you. He latches on immediately, looking at you as you shoot into the air and over to Gotham. He’s a little more careful to make sure your crowns stay on than you are and he promises to keep it safe in Gotham. That honestly sounded like an oxymoron. 

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” He asks as you take your masks off in the Batcave. 

   “Mrs. Kent invited us to the farm,” Throwing yourself into the chair, Damian sits on the table while taking his gloves off. “We’ll probably be there for the entire weekend. Unless there’s some emergency. You?”

“We typically do a small gift exchange and not much else.” He shrugs. 

   “Y'know…” You trail, pushing the chair closer to him. “Martha has been wanting to meet you.” 

“She’s met me.” He says, fixing your hair into something that doesn’t make it obvious you had just been flying around. 

   “Yeah, but not as her grandson’s boyfriend.” He cups your face as you speak, staring at you with this soft gaze that makes you like putty in his hands. 

“He’ll go,” Bruce says as he enters the cave. Damian grumbles and drops his hands to his side while you spin around to see him. He’s not in his Batman gear, though. Just his nightwear. “Clark invited all of us yesterday.”

“Fun!” You turn to Damian who’s not too happy about the fact he still has the spend the holiday with his siblings. 

   “My siblings are going to cause your grandmother to have a heart attack. I’d advise you to fool-proof the house.” He warns you, getting off of the computer and pulling you up from the chair. 

“It’s Kryptonian proof. They can’t do much damage,” You call him a name he’s heard a bunch. It’s this word in Kryptonian but you won’t tell him what it means and he doesn’t know the language enough to piece it together. But he likes it. It just feels right. 

   “That’s what you think.” 

But despite his warnings and swearing up and down about his family ruining the day, Christmas went smoothly. Save for the embarrassment of introducing your boyfriend to your family and such, of course. The gifts were wonderful, but what you loved the most was Damian’s recreation of your home, you hadn’t thought he’d remembered so much detail from when you talked about it but he was spot on. You’d gotten him a special sword, made of alien metal and carefully carved with his initials. He said it was too good to use, that something of that marksmanship should never see bloodshed. But his eyes sparkled when you pulled out a set of new charcoal and paints for him. 

He spent the rest of the night drawing. 

With Christmas wrapped up, the time for the New Year’s party rolled around. Of course, Bruce had formally invited the Kents to the gala that was being hosted at some fancy building in Gotham. You’d been all but attacked by Dick to get a matching suit with Damian. Not that you minded, of course. 

“Your first public appearance as a couple, congrats.” Duke grins as he sees you standing next to Damian, the two of you fixing the final details of your suits. You peer up from your cufflinks and see he’s in a fancy yellow suit. He paired it with a soft blush pink undershirt and silver jewelry. 

   “Thanks,” You smile and check your sleeves. Still nicely pressed and the cuffs shine against the silky brown suit. 

   “Nervous?” He asks, stepping into the room as Damian hands you the dahlia brooch the two of you were going to wear. Damian knew more about flower symbolism than you, but you just knew the flower meant something about the two of you that he wholeheartedly agreed with. 

“Far from it,” Damian responds, pinning his own brooch to his suit. He makes it look so damn easy, but that’s probably because he doesn’t need to worry about breaking the brooch. “Yellow clearly suits you.” He tells Duke who in turn, compliments Damian’s suit. 

“Oh, you two did henna?” Duke asks, seeing your deep orange-stained hands. He’s too far away to see the exact details, but he knows henna when he sees it. 

   “His idea,” You grin, looking at the designs on your hands. “We still have to find our initials, though.” Your eyes flicker to where Amira’s mother had hidden the letter D on your hand.

“In private.” Damian adds, his hand finding reprise in your own. He doesn’t need to look at Duke for him to understand that Damian is telling him to leave and close the door. The clicks closed as he guides you to his bed. The two of you sit together and he looks first. 

“These designs are lovely,” He utters, his fingers ghosting over your skin as if you were a delicate artifact he was trying so desperately to keep safe. There were a lot of small details, hardly any of your skin was showing and it just looked like a lace you’d wrapped around your hand. His eyes flicker from left to right, as if he’s reading words in a book trying to find the letter D somewhere in the henna. 

He’s far from frustrated, though. He absolutely loves that you’d agreed to do this and even more so that you clearly didn’t half-ass in getting it done. You’d even let the henna sit for two hours extra, just in case your genes made the stain fade faster. 

“Here,” He points to one of the curves along a flower, his finger tracing over the hidden D. 

   “That was fast,” You look up at him and he just can’t look away from your hand. You call him, using another Kryptonian pet name and he looks at you. 

   “I’m perceptive.” He hands you his hands and you gently take them. 

You suppose you’re cheating, but your eyes are naturally gifted and you can zoom in. Even so, it does take you longer than him. You’re looking between his hands, almost stressing about finding out. 

“There,” You point to your initial resting on his ring finger, right above the second knuckle. He smiles and nods and you pat yourself on the back. And then he says something— something that’s surely a promise. He says it in a way that’s clear he’s thought about it for so long that nothing is to change his mind about it and you stare at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile. 

“It’ll be harder to find when we get married.”

—

The gala is nice. The two of you arrived after your families just two hours before midnight, hand in hand. Perhaps it was on purpose, but you’re holding the hand that has your initial and he’s holding the hand that has his. Maybe that’s his way of keeping it between the two of you; intimate. 

There are a lot of people, as is expected with galas. A lot of rich old people, a bunch of shitty reporters trying to kiss ass to Clark and Lois, and their older children. No one under sixteen is ever allowed to gala’s, a rule that came into place when Jason was taken under Bruce’s wing. You were surprised to hear the rule wasn’t because of Dick, but apparently Dick didn’t attend enough gala’s for the rule to be needed. 

It’s your first gala seeing you’ve always declined the offers to go but there wasn’t room to say no in this situation. But it’s calm. You were more nervous about your presentation than about this. You and Damian mingle together for around an hour and a half before you see Kara at the snack table and excuse yourself.

You’re talking to Kara about school and she’s talking to you about her job. It just sounds like a bunch of human adult stuff you’re probably going to have to do in five years and honestly? That sounds like hell. But she makes it sound fun. 

“Mother.” Damian says from across the room. Your head snaps over to where he is and you see her. Holy shit. You should run. “What’re you doing here?” His head turns to find you in the crowd but you see that Thalia is already looking directly at you. At least she’s smiling, that’s good… right?

“His mothers here?” Kara whispers, having heard that too. She’s been big on meeting the woman who raised him, apparently hearing how Bruce and Damian talk about her isn’t enough for her never-ending curiosity. 

   “I’m gonna piss my pants!” You gasp, looking at her. “Oh my god, she’s gonna kill me. i��� Kara!” Your eyes widen as she tugs you after her. She barely weaves past people and you have to awkwardly apologize to them and let this crazy woman drag you over to your boyfriend and his assassin mother. 

“Hello, Ms. Al Ghul.” You gulp as Kara makes you stand between her and Damian. 

   “Ah, so this is your partner.” Thalia looks at her son and then at you. He’s not upset, but he’s cautious. He’s purposefully slowing his heart rate and you hear the subtle sounds of his joints moving. He’s ready to take you and run. 

   “Yes, this is my significant other, (Y/n).” He introduces you with a hand on your back. “And his aunt, Kara.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the boy who my son has fallen in love with.” She bluntly says and you don’t know if you should smile or hide. Neither of you has actually said the L word before. 

   “Mother…” He whispers and she tsks. 

   “What does he call you?” She asks you, ignoring her son's plea to stop taking. 

“Uh…” You trail. “He says: ya albi; habibi, hobbi, and ya hayati. There’s some more but I can’t remember…” When you say them, she takes a deep breath in and turns to her son. He’s a little red but not from anger. 

   “And do you know what they mean?” She asks, her eyes flicker to you. 

   “No, ma’am.” You answer honestly and she grins. That’s where he gets it, oh my god. 

“He’s professing his love for you. My love, my darling, love of my heart, and my life.” She explains. 

“You call him the same things!” Kara points out, slapping your arm and Damian looks over, the embarrassment off of his face and now he’s confused.

   “Kara…!” Your eyes widen as it’s your turn to be embarrassed. 

    “He calls you…” She waits for Damian to tell her the pet names and now you’re embarrassed that he’s repeating them. She doesn’t hide her excitement or her expressions like Thalia had and openly gushes. “The first one is: my only love. Then he says: my life and my reason.” 

“Your reason?” He asks and you turn your face from him. If you weren’t surrounded by people, you would’ve flown away. 

“Where we’re from, to have someone as your reason is the highest form of love. You’re living for someone, you’re devoting your life to them and their happiness.” You carefully explain and Kara nods, a hand over her heart as she gushes again. 

“Let’s leave the boys to their devices and chat,” Thalia smiles at Kara who nods and loops her arms with the literal assassin. 

“So…” You trail but the lights turn off and you hear the countdown start from one of the speakers around the room. Geeze, the night had gotten away from you. 

“Shall we?” He asks, stepping in front of you. New Year's kiss. Okay, holy shit. This is. Okay, you got this. You hear them say three and you get ready, cupping his face in your hands. You figure this is the best time to say it. Hell, you both have practically been saying it for years now. Just now it’ll be in a language you both understand.

“I love you.” You whisper as everyone shouts Happy New Year around the two of you. 

Kissing him, he holds you close and you’re sure you’re about ten seconds into the new year before he pulls back from the kiss. 

“I love you, too.”

[bonefall]

The new arc’s first blurb came, and seems to be about Tawnypelt, Leafstar, and some random apprentice molly named Moonpaw btw. Can’t wait to see how awful that turns out.

I'm going to go in with low expectations this time around. Admittedly, I'm not fond of the idea of following cats who I feel have massively overstayed their welcome. Leafstar should have been dead a long time ago, and Tawnypelt has been active for 20 years of arcs plus a novella.

When I say "I'd like characters from previous arcs to continue their stories" I don't mean that I want popular old cats to get forced into the spotlight constantly. I mean that I want interesting background characters like Icewing, Fringewhisker, or Breezepelt to get expanded upon with full POVs. It's a bummer that the Erins seem so bad at building up new characters that they're still relying on cats from Arc 1.

But, hey, maybe this will surprise me.

Moonpaw though... Moonpaw I've got my eye on. I'm listening. I'm paying attention. TBC and ASC had a "formula" for the three POV characters; Boy/Girl/The Horrors. It's not lost on me that Changing Skies seems to have dropped the Boy and the Girl, but kept The Horrors. I hope this signals that they listened to the positive feedback on Shadowsight and Frostpaw.

Other assorted thoughts;

I'm not even going to pretend to be kind to this; ANOTHER construction plot is just bad.

They're boring. I do not want another whingefest about how it's wrong and bad and mean to hurt humans for some reason.

Bone "Speckletail's Bulldozer" Fall: these darn cats better attack a bulldozer or I'm out

And goddddd why are we having ANOTHER "StarClan's really gonna be gone this time!" Plot. This is the third in a row.

I was already on board with it the first time. Burn the heavens down or shut up at this point.

Plus... it seems like a lot of this arc is going to be based around Tawnypelt trying to argue with people to get the plot to happen, Moonpaw warning everyone the plot is going to happen while they don't listen to her, and Leafstar acting in whatever way will be most annoying for the plot to not happen.

I cannot stress enough how much I dread this. I am so sick of buying books to hear about characters doing everything in their power to accomplish as little as possible. I can call my congressman for FREE.

Moonpaw though. I love her name. I hope that she has a strong personality to help her stand out from Frost and Shadow.

I'm hoping that she's more on the rough side than the sensitive side, tbh. Something I enjoy about Nightheart is that he CAUSES shit to happen because he's impulsive.

My ideal scenario for this arc is Leafstar trying to keep Tawnypelt and Moonpaw on two leashes and absolutely failing. PLEASE let my girls break stuff.

I hope that Leafstar dies in this arc. I'll be kinda sad if she's the first leader voted out, but she NEEDS to stop leading. So I hope it's a good death.

And God please I hope they keep the stupidity pills away from her. She has been at her worst in ASC.

IN A NUTSHELL; On paper, this seems like a middling idea for an arc at best. My expectations are low, but I'm hoping they surprise me.

[httpsdana]

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬~𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟏𝟖

summary: Barça players and talented footballers. Souls meet and sparks fly. But there's always a twist when it comes to love isn't there?

pairing: Ferran Torres x Gonzalez!Reader

warnings: cursing, slight age gap, angst

previous part -> next part

"I tried convincing Xavi to have you sleep in my room but he said I shouldn't be distracted before tomorrow" Ferran whined, and y/n almost heard the pout in his voice

She laughed slightly before speaking.

"it's not a problem amor me and the girls have already booked our rooms" she said, dropping one last dress in her suitcase.

"when is your flight?" Ferran asked, making y/n look at the clock that was in her room. Her eyes widened when she saw the time

"shit. Sara is coming over any moment now. flight is in 2 hours almost" y/n said, quickly closing her bag/

"you're going with her to the airport yeah?" he asked. y/n hummed fixing her hair in the mirror quickly

"well I have to go now. I'll see if I can see you tonight yeah?" she said, grabbing her small bag that she will keep with her.

"okay love. have a safe flight, text me when you land okay?" he said

"okay. I love you bye" y/n hung up, before realizing what she had said to Ferran. They neve said i love you to each other, and she just said in over call without even hearing his response

She let out a sigh before she received a text message

Fer <3

i love you more darling

y/n smiled, blushing deeply before sending him a couple of red hearts. She grabbed all her bags before she saw a text from Sara saying that she arrived

y/n locked up her apartment, and walked to Sara's car.

"helloo" she said, putting her bag in the back and giving Sara a kiss on her cheek.

"hey gorgeous. ready?" Sara said. y/n smiled and nodded, before turning to the baby in his car seat in the back

"hello there Kais. ready to go to Paris?" y/n tickled him, making him giggle

"are the girls already at the airport?" Y/n asked Sara. She nodded with a hum

"Mikkey said they went early" she said. y/n nodded, while they continued their drive in silence

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Sara and y/n were the last to reach the airport. Katrine (Christensen's wife), Mikkey (Frenkie's wife), Natalia (Raphinha's wife), Daniela(Ter Stegen's wife), Dayana(Vitor's wife) and Sira were all there.

y/n greeted everyone, while they waited to start boarding.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The plane finally landed and the girls took 3 taxis to their hotel. They all met in the lobby to take their rooms. It seemed like the hotel already distributed their rooms.

Sara took the list before looking at y/n with an awkward look.

"'what is it?" she asked, walking up to see the paper in her hand.

"you and Sira are sharing a room" she whispered. y/n exhaled, seeing how Sara felt bad about it.

Sara knew y/n wasn't a fan of Sira so she wanted to share a room with her instead. But apparently the hotel has another plan.

"I can tell them to switch with her if you want?" Sara suggested. y/n smiled at her, before shaking her head.

"it's fine don't worry" y/n assured her.

"okay so Natalia and Dayana in room 45. Dani and Katrine in room 47. Me and Mikkey in room 48. y/n and Sira in room 46" Sara said, handing out the keys to each pair.

y/n took hers while Sira had already took hers and started her walk to the room. Sara look at y/n with sympathetic look, making y/n shake her head to reassure her.

"don't worry Sara. it's not your fault. I'll see you guys tonight yeah?" y/n said to the girls, giving each one of them a hug

She walked behind Sira to the elevator, that took them to the second floor where there room was. Sira seemed to be annoyed that she shared a room with y/n. Not that y/n is enjoying it either but she chose to ignore her.

They entered their room, each one of them taking a bed and starting to unpack some of their important stuff.

As y/n started to put some of her clothes in the closet, Sira chose to speak.

"so how did you and Ferran start talking" she asked, making y/n raise her eyebrows, confused at her sudden start of conversation

"excuse me?" y/n replied

"I mean honestly I didn't expect Ferran to find someone that quickly after me especially not someone like you" she shrugged, making y/n even more confused

someone like her? what's that supposed to mean

"what do you mean?" y/n asked, swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat

"I mean he said he's always more into feminine girls so it was a surprise to see him dating a football players" Sira said, while she was also unpacking her stuff

was she not 'feminine' enough for Ferran?

"you do now that me and Ferran dated do you?" Sira asked, turning to look at y/n with a small smirk

y/n nodded, turning to the closet again so Sira doesn't see the look on her face.

"did he tell you or did you see it on social media?" she asked again. she was asking a lot of stuff that have nothing to do with her.

"why does that concern you? you seem more interested in my relationship than your own one" y/n snapped, making Sira chuckle

"oh please we both now that me and Pedri are nothing serious. he just needed some company since you decided to take his best friend away from him" Sira said, making y/n's anger rise. But she wasn't gonna speak back to her. She was only trying to make her angry.

Sira laughed slightly, before taking a small bag and walking to the bathroom, probably to unpack her make up products. y/n was closing her suitcase, when something caught her eye between Sira's clothes.

It was wrong but she walked to the bag to check it out. It was a jersey, barça one but what caught her eye was the number and name on the back

7 Ferran

why does she have a shirt with y/n's boyfriend's name?

y/n heard some shuffling from the bathroom, which she dropped the jersey back and made her way back to her bed.

She texted Sara, telling her that she wants to meet her because she can't stand Sira anymore

She left her room to Sara's which was only 2 doors away

"I can't fucking stand her anymore" Y/n said as soon as Mikkey opened the door for her.

She dropped on one of the beds, landing next to baby Miles.

"what did she do this time?" Sara asked. y/n let out a sigh before talking

"she started asking about me and Ferran and how she didn't think he would date someone like me because I'm not 'feminine' enough like other girls he had been with, basically girls like her" she quoted the word feminine with her fingers

Sara looked at y/n, shock evident on her face, while Mikkey was just confused, thinking that Sira was a nice girl. obviously not.

"she said that?" Mikkey asked. y/n nodded before speaking up again

"oh and to make things worse, she has a jersey with Ferran's name on the back. my fucking boyfriend" y/n said in an angry tone

"hey watch it with the words there are two kids here" Sara said with a warning finge.

y/n looked at Miles, who was asleep, and then Kais who was just looking at her with no movement. She let out a sigh, looking up at the two mothers with a sorry look

"sorry guys, she just made me so angry. what am I supposed to do now?" she asked

"speak to Ferran about it. he should know that his ex is trying to get between you two" Sara said, while Mikkey nodded in agreement

"but he still doesn't know that I know they dated" y/n replied, making Mikkey's jaw drop

"he wasn't the one that told you?" she asked

"nope I found out from some random tiktok edit that they were together" y/n chuckled dryly

"oh that's fucked up" Mikkey mumbled, making Sara glare at her

"language" she scolded again, making y/n laugh slightly

Sara being the second oldest, she was like the mother of the group. Always planning everything and trying to include everyone.

"but for real now, you really have t speak to Ferran about all of this" Mikkey said, while Sara nodded. y/n let out a sigh before nodding and getting up

"I'm gonna see if we can meet tonight and I'll tell him" she said.

She gave the two ladies a hug before returning to her room. She opened the door to see Sira still unpacking all her stuff.

"your phone rang twice so I answered it for you because it was getting annoying" Sira shrugged, making y/n furrow her eyebrows.

Please don't say it was Ferran

"who was it?" she asked reaching over to grab her phone

"obviously Ferran, I wouldn't have answered it otherwise" she chuckled, making y/n whisper a 'what'

She opened her phone, going to Ferran's contact to call him again.

He answered after one ring.

"Sira I told you stop calling me" his voice said, making y/n raise her eyebrows

"it's me" she said, hearing a low 'oh' from him

"sorry um how are you doing love?" he said in a nervous tone

y/n left her room to the hallway so she can speak to him without Sira overhearing her

"was she the one calling you?" y/n asked, ignoring his question

"who?" he asked, trying to change the topic

"not now Ferran just answer my question" she said

"well I called once when she answered I just hung up" he said

"did she or did she not call you again?" y/n said impatiently

He let out a sigh before answering

"yeah she called twice again" Ferran said, making y/n sigh deeply

"how did she even open your phone?" he asked again

"I have your number as my emergency contact, she doesn't need the passcode to call you" y/n said, running her hand through her head anxiously

"oh...anyways, when did your plane land?" he asked

"we need to have a talk tonight" she said before hanging up.

She knew she shouldn't distract him before his match tomorrow but she couldn't handle the situation anymore.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"darling is everything okay? you had me worried on the phone" Ferran said, giving y/n a hug before they sat down.

They decided to meet at a restaurant while the other group were sitting away from them in the same place.

"we really need to talk about Sira"

[lazycats-stuff]

The New Heir - Chapter 1

And here we go everyone. Again, feedback is greatly appreciated. Warnings: mentions of bullying, kids can be cruel, minor violence, stalking Word count: 1.5k

Prologue, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Elias blinked a few times, looking at the board. His last period was math and as much as he loved the subject, he didn't like the last period of the day, regardless of what subject it is. He forced himself to focus, looking at the fractions.

He wrote down a little note next to a certain example, making sure that he wouldn't forget how it's solved. Elias' eyes went straight to the clock.

3 more minutes. Just 3 more minutes and he would be free. He just has to make it for 3 more minutes. His eyes travelled over the classroom. His best friend stopped writing a minute or 2 ago and was just watching the clock.

Elias' eyes travelled over the people in the classroom. Everyone was just ready to go home and rest. Everyone was tired. Some were following along and some were just mentally not there.

And Elias' eyes fell down on the one and only Damian Wayne. He still remembers how shocked the Gotham public was when it was revealed that Damian was Bruce Wayne's biological son. Him and his mom remember being shocked about it.

And she was more shocked that he went to public school and not private, but Bruce Wayne often said that he wanted his children to have a normal life, despite their celebrity status that they obtained by default.

But Damian Wayne was the first kid of the four sons that was biologically connected to Bruce. Elias didn't know what to think about him at all. He was stand offish at school, but he was polite towards the teachers.

And he seemed closed off, as if he put a very strong wall around himself. Why would a 12 year old had to put up walls around himself? Elias didn't want to judge, but it was strange for a 12 year old to be so closed off.

His eyes travelled back to the clock, seeing that there was a minute left. He subtly put his pencil in his pencil case, along side his eraser. When the bell rang, everyone decided to pack it out of here.

Elias' heard something about don't forget the worksheet for the Monday. He gave it out at the beginning of the subject so Elias already had it in his notebook.

" Come on Elias, " Theo said, trying to hurry up his friend.

" Give me a moment. " Elias said, putting the last of his stuff in the bag.

" You are slow as hell. " Theo remarked, laughing at the the middle finger he got from Elias.

They left the classroom and went to their lockers to get their stuff. Elias didn't put a lot of stuff in it, he just stuffed his jacket in there. He took his jacket out and put it on. It was the end of September and it was getting progressively colder and colder.

There were some cheers and some howling. What the hell? Theo and Elias looked at one another. It was the bully of the school, Mark Johnson. Elias hated him.

He never liked bullies. Mark was an 8th grader and thankfully it was his last year here, but he was taller than the rest of the kids and that gave him a certain edge. Not to mention his 'friends'. More appropriate term would be lackeys. Maybe even sheep.

" Is that Mark? " Elias asked, rubbing his eyes.

" Yup. He is bullying Damian Wayne. He is holding something above his hand and Damian looks like he is going snap. "

Elias sighed as he watched it. Why would Mark bully a Wayne? Out of all people in this school, the biological son of Bruce Wayne? Nope. Not happening. Anybody who has a brain would see that that is a bad idea.

" Hold my bag. " Elias said, shrugging the said bag off of his shoulders.

" Elias, what are you going to do? " Theo asked, tilting his head.

" Just watch. " Elias said, giving his friend a smirk.

" Oh God, Eli don't do it. " Theo said, seeing already what was going to happen.

" Don't worry. " Elias assured Theo.

" I don't want you to be suspended. " Theo called out after him as Elias made his way, through the crowd. Theo sighed. Elias was to brave for his own good.

" Mark, give Damian his- " He stopped, looking up to see a sketchbook, then dropping his eyes lower to meet Mark's eyes " Sketchbook. " He said, making sure to keep his face neutral.

" Or what? " Mark said, smirking at Elias, leaning his head down. Damian was glanced at Elias. Now what?

" Or we will have a repeat of the last time we were in this predicament. " Elias said calmly, watching as the smirk disappeared. The crowd let out an ooh, clearly knowing what Elias was talking about.

Damian, in fact, didn't know what Elias did. He watched Mark's wheels turn inside his head. Elias just raised his eyebrow, silently asking him ' and what is it? '

Mark held the notebook even higher. Elias sighed, shaking his head.

" Don't say that I didn't warn you. " Was the only warning that Damian and Mark got before Elias swung at Mark's jaw. Mark grunted and stumbled back into the wall. Elias grabbed the notebook back and smacked Mark with it across the face. The crowd was laughing at Mark and Elias handed Damian his sketchbook.

" Thank you. Did you really punch him in the face before? " Damian asked, opening the doors to get out.

" I have. And damn, it felt good. " Elias said, taking his bag from Theo.

" It was a pretty sight. " Theo confirmed, moving out in the fresh air.

Damian and Elias followed too. Elias closed his eyes for a moment. He sighed, feeling the harsh wind against his face. Fall came to Gotham.

Damian went straight to the car waiting for him.

" He has a butler Elias. " Theo said, watching the car.

" He is rich. " Elias said back, walking down the stairs of the school.

" I know, but still! Imagine, a butler that does everything you want on a whim. " Theo dreamed as they walked side by side. Elias laughed at that. He didn't need a butler.

" Why are you laughing at me? " Theo whined, walking next to him as they were walking home.

" Because. Just because he has a butler, that doesn't mean that the butler does everything. I would bet you that he still gets stuff on his own. " Elias said, looking around as they stopped at a traffic stop. He didn't have a good feeling.

He saw a tall man, with black hair and green eyes, dressed like any other Gotham resident, but something was off. Way off. He was across the street from them and he was looking at them both. Elias' hunch went off.

" Theo, follow my lead and don't panic, " Elias said, grabbing Theo's arm.

Theo stayed quiet, guessing that Elias got a hunch. Elias had a detector for danger and that was a very useful skill to have in Gotham.

" Can I get an explanation? " Theo asked as they were walking quickly.

" I think a guy is following us. " Elias said quietly, seeing a subway. It was busy so they could lose him there.

" A hunch? " Theo pressed, walking down the old metal stairs.

" Yup. " Elias said, still not letting go off Theo's arm.

" Oh God. "

Elias stayed quiet, moving through the crowd. He looked back for a moment and he saw that the man was looking around. Elias pushed on forward, seeing the exit. Elias had a tight grip on Theo's arm and he moved him to go up the old metal stairs, making the run around the corner.

They have lost him.

" Come on, lets go. " They had around 10 minutes to their building.

" Elias, I can't run that fast. " Theo said, huffing.

" Well, I don't care. You are going to thank me one day. " Elias said, sighing in relief as they saw their building. He took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door.

Theo and Elias took deep breaths.

" Oh my God. " Theo said, panting.

" I know. "

" As much as I love this city, I hate it at the same time. " Theo declared, going to the elevator. He pressed the up button and Elias moved to stand next to Theo.

" I feel you. "

They stepped into the elevator once it opened it's doors. Elias pressed 2 and Theo pressed 3. The doors closed and the lift moved upwards.

They stood in silence and Elias said goodbye to Theo. He stepped out and unlocked the apartment door. Whew... This was insane. He took his jacket off and took his shoes off. His mom was going to be home soon and he would be able to tell her.

Who even was that man?

He went to the bathroom to wash his hands, sighing quietly. He went back to his room after drying his hands. A nap would be in order first.

He was tired beyond belief.

[bklynmadman]

I grew up with Men like this.....PART III

Well, I've noticed I picked up some followers. Thanks to all you 3 people. I love you!

That being said, I'm honored to have readers. It's always nice. I just hope you like my stuff. I tend to write stuff that's somewhat depressing, but I'll try to be a bit more lighthearted despite the circumstances. I do want to stress that this current situation is terrible shit, and this was meant more of a diagnosis than a warning, but it wound up being both.

This is also for you people who thought it was a good idea to vote Donald. To you, I say, You don't realize how fucked you are yet.

Anyway, I hope you read on, and prepare yourselves.

ECONOMY

Let it be known that Donald J. Trump, for all of his time spent in the private sector has ZERO KNOWLEDGE of the Economy or how it works. He has ZERO knowledge of how world markets work, nor does he care to know.

He is also a business failure. How he got the image of being "good at business" is beyond me. It probably has to do with the "Wealth Worshipping" we do in this country. (HAS TO STOP)

He is still very much that spoiled child who likes to torture others simply for the attention, and LOVES more than anything else, having power over people to be able to do so. It's not so much about being in charge for Donald, it's the attention that goes with it. He loves being adored, and wants to be recognized for his lack of business acumen as if he is "Mr. Wall Street". Donald, like other white rich dudes, likes the role of gatekeeper. That's why he says when you ask him something directly "I may do it. I may. We'll soon see." He doesn't know much but he does not how much being publicly indecisive hurts other people's lives, as to whether or not he'll enact a policy that directly threatens a group of people's way of life. He LOVES the fact that he's being talked about right now around the world, doesn't matter if it's good or bad, he's in it for the attention folks and to be gatekeeper to our freedoms well, that is one surefire way to get attention.

Back to his failure of business, I would go into all of his business failures, but I don't have enough room. I will mention them briefly. (Trump Steaks, Trump Airlines, Trump University, Trump Water, Trump Board Game, The Trump Taj Mahal and Casino, Trump Tower Casino, and Trump Marina and Casino of Atlantic City.)

SIDENOTE: HOW THE FUCK DO YOU LOSE MONEY OWNING THREE CASINOS???? Not many can except for the Donny Rapist Man!

He was once quoted in his first term as president (Yuck!) when asked how he will manage the National Debt, he said "“People said I want to go and buy debt and default on debt, and I mean, these people are crazy. This is the United States government. First of all, you never have to default because you print the money, I hate to tell you, OK?” That alone should share the shit out of you for he truly believes if you print more money, you'll manage the debt. A basic understanding of economics would prevent him thinking this way, but then again, Donny fucktard doesn't do thinking!

Anyway, He has promised to apply tariffs across the board on all foreign goods coming into the United States. He promised a universal Tariff on all foreign goods, and a 60% tariff on all Chinese goods. He's proposing this for he wants to get the other nations "in line" that he feels abuse the US market. So he thinks the tariffs will do that. Only, once again, a basic understanding of economics would show that the cost of Tariffs are always passed onto the consumer. That means, All Clothes, Items, Goods, Foods, imported here from other countries will be getting a lot more expensive for everyone. (REMEMBER AMERICA MAGAMORONS, you voted for this. I'll be closing on you in a minute.) If there are any doubters that are reading this, check your current shirt. Let me know where it was made. I'll put odds it was made either in China, Malaysia, India, Bangladesh, or even Vietnam. That's just clothes imported into this country. Let me ask you this? You think GAP INC, or HANES, or a majority of Clothing Companies are going to pay that 60% tariff just because Trump said so?

A LITTLE MATH/BUSINESS LESSON (You can skip this if you aren't interested)

On one pallet, (meaning one shipment of t-shirts) you can fit about 2,160 t-shirts total. In one container, you can fit about 20-22 pallets (which depend on the goods and how they're packed but let's just say this for arguments sake.) That means in one 40 foot container, you can have up to 45,360 T-Shirts. (My memory as a former wine importer is getting jogged as I write this. I stopped doing that business officially in 2016 so I'm sure prices have changed and I know prices are different on clothes.)

Before that pallet gets to America, the cost per shirt is about 50 cents. So the total cost of the entire container before the shirts get here would be $22,680. Once it arrives in customs, that's when customs charges begin. Two charges are levied on containers containing "Textiles" which is the category the T-shirts fall under. Those charges are MPF (Merchandise Processing Fee) and Import Duty  The MPF is calculated as a percentage of the shipment's value, with a minimum and maximum amount. For informal entries (under $2,500), the MPF is a flat fee of $2–$9. For formal entries (over $2,500), the MPF ranges from $30.66–$595.35. So, since the cost of goods (Keep this in mind, these are cheap t-shirts found at WalMart) in that one container is $22,680, the total MPF would be the max, at $595.35. For Duty, which only applies when goods imported are valued above $800. (which this would be) that means a 5.63% tariff would apply, adding $1,276.88 to the cost.

Here is a lesson in Business, as these fees are added on to import your goods, those are costs that you tack onto the product when you sell it, because you have to lay it out to get it into the country, so you MUST make it back or your company will lose money. (Something else the Orange Fuckwad doesn't understand.) So, those incurred costs before it leaves customs would tack on a total of 3 cents to each T-Shirt, making the total cost of each shirt before it gets to your warehouse or store 53 cents. The cost of the truck that will pick up your container, depending on where your warehouse or store is located will vary, but let's go on a average, which would be anywhere from $500-$3000. It varies on distance. For this argument, let's go with $1800. That would add a total of 4 cents to each t-shirt. Now, each t-shirt landed cost is 57 cents. Stores charge anywhere from 30-40% to make a profit. They charge that because usually 100-400% mark up covers your rent (if you have any), bills (Electric, Gas, Water), Employees, Taxes (Payroll, Income, Federal, State, and City Taxes) So, the total cost that is known to the owner of the store is $2.28. They usually mark it up to maybe $5-$8.00 per shirt, and will do deals like buy 2, get one free or buy 4 and get one more. The profit on one shirt sold would be $4.43 per shirt. Remember, the landed cost is 57 cents.

The Trump tariff would charge an extra 60% to your container if it came from china. So, take 45,360 t-shirts in a container, which is valued at $22,680. Tacking on the usual costs

22,680 + $595.35 + 1,276.88 + 1,800 = 26,532.23 x (.60) = 15,919.34

(Total Cost before Customs) (MPF) (DUTY) (Shipping) + (Trump Tariff)

Take that number and add it to the total cost (26,532.23) = 42,451.46 total cost per container now.

Divide that cost by the amount of t-shirts in the container = 0.94 cents per shirt landed. A total added .37 cents onto each shirt.

This may seem like small potatoes but when you're selling t-shirts in bulk, you are not about to lose .37 cents per shirt. That would dip into your profits, and if you have backers or board members, that .37 cents will eat into your profit margins should it not be tacked onto the cost of the product. Backers and Board Members of a corporation don't do charity, and they will want to see that cost reflected into the sales.

Now, I know what many will say (if you got this far, bravo) BIG DEAL! It's small cents. In business, small change adds up A LOT! And this is just bargain Walmart T-shirts. Never mind graphic t-shirts, or designer t-shirts, or other clothes. And apply that to all GOODS.

This will be hurting Americans, not helping them. Donny Moron doesn't understand it, nor does he want too.

BACK TO TARIFFS

Economists have predicted that Trump's Tariffs will cost the average American family an extra $1700 per year for goods. To those MAGA morons who screamed and voted for "Lower Grocery Bills" will see those prices jump slightly higher now. Companies have already began to announce higher prices in retaliation to Trumps' Tariffs. Effectively erasing the work that President Biden has done to lower the effect of inflation. But Donny won't stop there. Oh No! What he's about to do tax wise is what got him donations from Billionaires like Elon Asshole Musk and Miriam Alderson (Widow of Casino Magnate Sheldon Alderson)

TAX CUTS (A BIT, NOT A LOT)

I went over this in some of my previous posts, and if you want to learn more about Tax Cuts and how they work, you can look back in my previous posts from 2015 and see what they are.

Trump is going to give Tax Cuts to the Wealthy and Corporations. He's going to say he's giving Tax Cuts to everyone. But the devil will be in the details. The IRS collects about $2.56 Trillion Dollars in Federal Income Tax alone per year. This money funds government services, and investments. Trump is proposing to lower the Corporate Tax from 21% to 15%, and proposes that those households who make over $400,000 will get a tax cut of about $60,000 roughly a 15% tax cut. So, if you make 1M per year, you'll receive a tax cut of $150,000. on $3M it's $450,000. On 1 Billion Dollars, it's 150M tax cut. A tax cut for those who don't know, are taxes you don't have to pay on your earned income. This is before deductions and Tax Loopholes that the super rich and Corporations have been doing for years. Just to recap, the following corporations paid ZERO in Federal Income Taxes.

Amazon

Google

Coca-Cola

Facebook

Nike

Tesla

3M

and many more. In fact, if they report losses, they take advantage of a Tax Deduction in which they don't have to pay on those, lessening their tax burden.

It will be the time of record profits for Billionaires and Big Corporations, and meanwhile the rest of us will see tax cuts like $500-$1000 that we wouldn't have to pay. The super poor will see none of these benefits, and New Yorkers know that $500 doesn't do much in a month or offer much breathing room. Meanwhile, fat cats like Elon Musk, who's net income is 1.4 Billion last year will see a 210M tax cut. The rest of us will have to pay our taxes however.

That's what this is mostly about. It's about Money, and the Rich, Like Don the fuckwad and his cronies, feel that they should have more control over their tax money and where it goes.

This will add onto the national debt, and the government will not be able to sustain itself for each tax cut given, that's less money going into the government. Less for Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, and other government services.

So, enjoy your tax cuts middle class, the wealthy will be enjoying theirs. And they'll sell it through their usual promise of "Trickle Down" Economics, which is been proven to not work a BILLION TIMES OVER.

Also, don't tell me that bullshit either of Rich People need those tax cuts to create jobs. They dont. Never have. Trump presided over the WORST PERIOD OF JOB CREATION in this country since the Great Depression in the 1930's. THE WORST. So, don't tell me these tax cuts are going to automatically start working and start creating jobs. They haven't since they've been getting them under Trump's first term. And Where did all that money go? Stock Buybacks. Made themselves richer, while at the same time putting it out there that no one wants to work anymore.

UNIONS

The other thing Donny is going to do, of which I will NEVER FORGIVE THE TEAMSTERS UNION.

He's going to attempt to destroy Unions, and get rid of Overtime Pay.

Unions are the only check against large corporations and big businesses. Unions offer Medical Insurance to it's members, and also collective bargain with employers for wages.

The Orange Rapist has said during a live conversation with Elon Dumbfuck Musk on Twitter (I will not call it what he wants me to call it. Fuck him and his money) has praised Elon for firing Tesla workers who voted to Unionize. He has expressed that workers conspiring to unionize should be fired. He also said in that same convo, that he "hated paying workers overtime." and that "He'd never pay it."

What to expect from this conman during a second term...

Trump changed the rules about who qualifies for overtime pay, making more than 8 million workers ineligible and costing them over $1 billion per year in lost wages during his first term as president.

You Trumptards think that in the past 4 years of dodging court dates and indictments, he suddenly found a heart??? If you think that, you are gravely mistaken.

He will repeat his actions with regards to labor again, only this time, go to more extremes to make it stick.

He has talked about replacing overtime, and giving workers Comp Time, which cheats workers over Overtime laws embedded in our Constitution. 1 BILLION in overtime pay in 2019 to be exact.

Hey TEAMSTERS, no more overtime pay for you. He thinks you're not entitled to it. And apparently, so did many of your members. Enjoy that shit when it's enacted under a GOP controlled House and a GOP controlled Senate. Scabs will be taking your jobs if you refuse, and you know what? Shame on you, because your membership wanted to support Donald.

Trump will also do the following.

Trump will continue to PACK the courts with anti-labor judges who have made the entire public sector “right to work for less” in an attempt to financially weaken unions by increasing the number of freeloaders.

Trump will stack the National Labor Relations Board with anti-union appointees who side with employers in contract disputes and support companies who delay and stall union elections, misclassify workers to take away their freedom to join a union, and silence workers.

Trump will make it easier for employers to fire or penalize workers who speak up for better pay and working conditions or exercise the right to strike.

Trump promised to veto the PRO Act and the Public Service Freedom to Negotiate Act, historic legislation that will reverse decades of legislation meant to crush private sector unions and shift power away from CEOs to workers.

I can't wait when the Teamsters start complaining about "scabs" being allowed to work due to Trump's push of "Right To Work" policy, which effectively emboldens Scabs or picket line crossers to work for companies for less pay than the union would allow them too. Some of these idiots think that wont happen. To that I say....Just wait.

The next time I hear of Teamsters Picketing, they can go fuck themselves as far as I'm concerned for failing to come out to support Kamala Harris, a president that would've protected their Union and advanced Pro-Union Policies. I hope the Teamster Union breaks, and I say that as a UFT member knowing full well that Trump and his merry band of assholes will try to dismantle my Union too. (They already are trying too with Charter Schools. If Governor Hochul had any balls, she'd pull funding from Charter Schools to embolden UFT and pro-union policies. But this is about the Spoiled Boy-King, not NY governor Hochul.)

ABORTION/ IMMIGRATION

On this, Trump will demonstrate his extreme cruelty for he gives neither a fuck for Immigrants (Even though his family was once an immigrant from Germany) nor women (see the 32 Civil Court Cases when 32 different women across this country accuse Donny of Rape and Sexual Assault.) He won this election on getting others to hate Immigrants.

It's a big pet peeve of mine whenever a fellow American Italian hates on the "Hispanics and Mexicans coming over the border." To which I remind them how their family came here, and the adversity that they faced. This convo usually ends with "Well, my family pulled through" but what they don't seem to understand is We're supposed to make things better, not worse for the next guy. It's also what some of my fellow pisans consider retribution. "Well, I came here legally. They can too." Well, they can't. Imagine how desperate they must be to come over illegally. It's not to skirt laws or get away with something.

The thing about Immigrants that many don't understand is the following.

Illegal Immigrants make up for a good portion of our workforce. About 8.3M Illegal Immigrants are currently in the United States Workforce. They are hired by their bosses, who know full well they aren't here legally, and take advantage of that by paying them much lower than they would have to pay an American worker.

Check out the Kitchens of the Restaurants that you frequent. Who is making your food back there?

Also, who is building your houses? Take a good look at the majority of those building private housing. Let me know what you find.

Another thing about Ilegal Immigrants is that they don't mostly Bring Crime, Drugs, and are Rapists. (I always found it funny that a Rapist calling a group of other people Rapists especially when he's a known rapist and pedophile. When Jeffrey Epstein is your best friend...) Ilegal Immigrants make our economy go round!

The Food Industry, the Construction Industry are very very dependent on Illegal Immigrant labor.

Illegal Immigrants are less likely to commit a crime for fear of being deported. So they're mostly law abiding citizens.

Illegal Immigrants pay MORE taxes that Amazon, and Coca-Cola combined. (Yes, they file and pay while freeloaders like Elon and Donny pay nothing.)

Illegal Immigrants make up about 12% of sales for Telecommunication companies (i.e. Cellphone purchases.)

They rent apartments, spend for food, open bank accounts, and California was trying to pass a law that would've made it easier for them to obtain a mortgage regardless of Immigration status.

When he does send ICE and Immigration agents to do a mass deportation, he will be adversely affecting these industries. That is on the way, and I've read one economist suggest that the "mass deportation" that he has promised his fans and fellow racists will total 315 Billion Dollars. Will Donny want to pay that? Sure, why not? The money isn't his, and he'll be dead soon enough so why should he have to worry? Thats a problem for us to figure out later when he's gone.

That's another thing Richers do that Donald likes to do. He loves to spend money when it's not his to spend. Donald is a notorious cheap skate, and has stiffed many people who have done work for him in his hotels and casinos. However, that will go away now that Donald has the United States Purse strings. The next time I hear a Republican preach about Fiscal Conservatism, it will be very hard for me not to deck them in the mouth.

Again, Donny loves being Gatekeeper. He adores it. It doesn't matter if it's cruel, or if he is doing the wrong thing. He is directly responsible for separating 6000 kids from their parents at the border. 6000. And he put them in cages and didn't even bother giving them blankets. He gave them what amounted to aluminum foil for a bedsheet. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???? WHERE IS THE OUTRAGE???? Every single parent should've been outraged with that regardless of political spectrum.

Also any real Christian should've had an issue with that, and those who don't are not real Christians nor do they deserve to be called one. They deserve to be called what they truly are, CRUEL HYPOCRITES WHO WORSHIP SATAN'S COCK.

I had a convo I had with a Trump sympathizer about this once, and the other person had the balls to say "Well, they shouldn't have been there." Talk about the most Victim Blaming Bullshit I've ever heard. As if they brought about that cruel treatment upon themselves when they got caught on the border.

WARS IN GAZA AND UKRAINE

Trump gives a fuck about one thing and one thing only. He's cited it many times in his first presidency, and it's his biggest motivator.

His image.

Trump is such a textbook classic narcissist that his main drive is simply to protect and project his image. He wants to be that "Suave, Smart, Debonair, Wealthy, Strongman who is beloved by all, and everyone fawns over him and his every word while his enemies retreat in cowardice." Trump's self image, like much of anything he says, is not rooted in reality.

He's a wimp, and like all bullies, once someone stands up to them, they run and hide and tell the teacher on you. Trump would run and hide from anyone formidable and run and tell fox news how "unfairly mistreated" he was.

Keep in mind, Donald is still a Russian Asset. The reason he jocks guys like Putin is because he wants it like that. He wants to make American into the Dictator Image. Absolute Power. Absolute Fascism. We know Donald can't read, but he has probably watched a Hitler Speech or two, and realized how Hitler came to power. His path to power is very similar to Hitlers, in fact almost mirror image.

He couldn't care less about what happens in Israel. He couldn't care less about what happens in the Ukraine. He will do what he is told, which the super wealthy are tired of giving aid and money to these two countries.

Also, Putin will tell his bitch to bend over and let him have Ukraine. Trump will do so. He will claim "He made a great deal" but the deal made will be something along the lines of the following.

1.) No Admission to NATO for Ukraine.

2.) Russia will get to keep most, if not all of their occupied territory.

3.) Ukraine will have to enter a trade agreement with Russia over the oil pipeline and they'll maybe do some share. 10 years Russia will have it and then turn it over to Ukrainian control.

Ukraine will do all of this under Trump duress, or Trump will withhold any and all aid to Ukraine, of which that will stop immediately once Trump takes office. So the good news is, The war will end. The bad news is, the war will benefit Russia grately, and Russia will have an open way to take Europe if it feels like it.

Trump will say "Look how great I did. And Look, I ended the war." But in the real world, Trump will only have given Putin what he asked for, which is the part of Ukraine with the resources as a part of Russia. Also, there will be no NATO presence in Ukraine forever, or at least while Trump is president.

As for GAZA...

Many Gen Z people were upset, and rightfully so, over the mass genocide in GAZA by the Israeli government. If they were upset of Former President Biden's lack of action, then they're really going to hate how Trump handles this situation.

I'm sorry to say, but the Palestinian people's numbers will be greatly REDUCED once Trump is in power, and he will not only continue to do nothing diplomatically. He will also side openly with Netanyahu, and praise his actions. He'll even get a bigger contrat, and sell more bombs, guns, and ammunition there. He'll say "What a great deal for America" but what he means is "What a great deal for Smith& Wesson" "Raytheon", and L3Harris Technologies." because last I checked, the American people in general don't own stock in any of those companies, only a select few do. (Trump is one of them by the way. He owns some stock in Raytheon. Conflict of Interest much? Sure, but we wont be able to talk about that for much longer.)

CONCLUSION

So, this is where this series ends. There will not be a 4th installment. I've pretty much said all I needed/wanted to say. I know many are upset over this tyrant returning to the White House.

There has got to be some hope at the end of this fucked man and his deranged policies. It's almost comical how he's in a "Race for the Worst". To predict what can happen, just picture a worst case scenario for each situation, and that is the baseline that Trump is so thirsty to beat. He will also fuck the environment as well, and turn the planet back on Global Warming, why? In the name of money.

So, fellow trumpers, I hope you enjoy the world while it lasts. I hope there isn't another deadly pandemic waiting in the wings, because Donald will handle that one just as well as he handled the 1st one. The one where he got over 1.8M American's killed, and suggested as a cure to inject bleach into your veins. He was also the guy to Poo Poo Masks, and put doubt into the vaccine, despite himself getting it.

But whatever, RFK will be in charge of our health from now on. You know, because he's qualified and believes in Science. But that's talking way too much.

Brace yourselves everyone. Enjoy this last holiday season of peace. We are in for a reckoning.

(So much for a weekly post. I just blogged 3 times in 4 days. But man, does it feel good to write again.)

[avatarl0v3r]

The Punk and the DJ | Hobie Brown x DJspider!reader

warning(s): n/a

parings: fem black reader/spider-v x hobie brown/spiderpunk

summary: your a new recruit and you meet hobie for the first time and show him how to use your dj board, and he teaches you how to play his guitar

thank you to @tinkerbelle05 for helping me write this by giving me ideas🫶🏽

gwen and hobie were walking to miguel’s office where he serves everything in the multiverse gwen had miles attached by a web dragging him so he didn’t wander off hobie smirked at this finding it funny.

—

you were speaking to miguel “so what are your powers besides the regular spider ones we all have” you smiled your hands swiping over nothing into for there to be a hologram of a dj board where there once was nothing.

miguel have you a questioning look “i can paralyze or stun my enemies for a period of type based off the best i play” you said with a proud smile miguel thought for a moment your in you smiled at him before three people walked in.

as you examined them your eyes find a boy with multiple piercings you hope in the air landing on nothing but you were sitting in the air deciding to listen to their conversation “i was going ti act like you weren’t there but i- i just cant” the boy responded “i’m not even here” before kicking his legs up.

deciding to ignore them you put your headphones on and started making a beat humming unconsciously to the beats, everyone looked at you but you were to focused on what you were doing.

hobie looked at you then back at miguel “who’s that?” miguel was confused before remembering you were there “this is y/n our newest recruit, y/n come introduce yourself” you moved one headphone from your ear confused before shooing the board away as it slowly disappeared and you slowly landed on the ground.

“i’m y/n and for the past 5 months i’ve been spider-v living my live, maybe a concert here and there basic stuff you know” you said with a smile.

gwen elbowed hobie in his ribs since he was staring so hard at you “y/n this is hobie, gwen,” he sighed “and miles” you smiled at miles “i like your suit it’s really cool” he looked shocked “th-thanks” you smiled before hoping back up and sitting in the air on nothing resuming your beat making.

everyone walked out gwen looked at miguel “you trust her in there alone?” he nodded and continued walking.

—

a few hours later and you where still making a new beat finally liking on and listening to it when someone walked in scaring you making you fall but catch youself before you hit the ground “sorry ‘bout that love.”

you looked up to see hobie and once again you shooed your board away “hey hobie what’s up?”

he shrugged “nothing really just bored and heard your music” you nodded “wanna hear it?” he nodded before you put the head phones on him making him listen to it.

“i think there should be a beat drop you know?, where the music gets louder” you thought for a moment before nodding “that board what is it?” you looked at him confused “it’s for my music and everything, i make beats sometime edit others, remixes etc.” you said showing him all the stuff “tell ya what make one right now randomly i’ll tell you how everything works and let you make your own beat” he nodded.

“like that?” “exactly like that now i want to learn to play this thing” you said holding up the guitar hobie smirked “fine but don’t feel bad when your not as good as me” you shoved him lightly causing him to laugh.

—

miles, and gwen watched the interaction as pav spoke in a quiet tone “they’d be sooo cute” the two friends jumped “pav when’d you get here?!” he shrugged his shoulders “sometime ago, but i totally ship it.”

i hate this sm, but it’s fine but i’ll get better

[notanettelmao]

The Tell pt. 1

Also on AO3

(A Teen Wolf Rewrite)

Fandoms: Teen Wolf, Supernatural Warnings: usual TW and SPN stuff Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x reader Words: 1,8k

<back // next>>

Tags: @venomsvl  @celestair  

If you wanna be tagged let me know!

Y/N was with Derek when he heard about the attack at the video store. He took off in the direction of the store, leaving her behind. She swore, looked around, and started running after him. 

When she finally got there, he and Scott were climbing the rusty ladder on the side of the building. Y/N rolled her eyes and climbed after them. Scott said hi to her while Derek stared at her as if he wasn't expecting her to follow him. He then turned to Scott.

"Starting to get it?" He asked, leaning over the edge to look down in a way that didn't make him visible to the people on the ground under them. Scott did the same.

"I get that he is killing people. I don't get why." Scott mumbled. Y/N walked a few steps toward the edge to take a look at the scene. 

"I mean, we don't go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we?" Y/N turned to look at Scott. 

"Werewolves are predators. Not killers." She said. Derek agreed, not looking away from the people on the street.

"Then why is he a killer?" Scott asked looking at his friend and then at the older werewolf.

"That's what we are going to find out. Y/N, how does this look like from the perspective of a hunter?" Derek turned towards her. The youngest Winchester took a deep breath and stepped away from the edge of the roof.

"It must have been a rogue omega. He killed Laura to get the alpha power, which we already knew. We know that he wants to build a pack, and that's why he bit Scott. But something isn't right here. Why didn't he bite anyone else? I'll need to do some research on my own, maybe I will take Stiles with me because he can get us the police reports. I need to know if there were organs missing or if he is just killing for the fun of it." Y/N looked at her phone, texting Stiles to meet her a few blocks away from the video store.

"You do that. I'm gonna take Scott to the house for a bit. I'll see you later," Derek waved a hand her way and then ran off the roof, Scott following him. Y/N groaned when she realized she will have to climb the ladder down

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

The youngest Winchester got to the meeting point at the same time as Stiles parked his jeep on the side of the road. She quickly jumped into the passenger seat and told him to drive to his house. She needed his whiteboard for this.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Stiles asked as they got into his room. He sat on his bed and watched Y/N pace around the room picking different stuff up and then wiping his whiteboard so she had a clean space to work with. She ignored his question and wrote 'THE ALPHA' in capital letters in the middle of it, then drew lines around it and started writing everything they knew already.

"I need you to look in your dad's files to see if there were any bodies found dead with their heart missing in the towns around Beacon Hills." Y/N turned to look at Stiles who was reading the words on the board, looking really interested. 

"You think it could be the bad kind? The one you told me about?" He was suddenly up, looking worried. Y/N swallowed and nodded. 

"I have a bad feeling. And I need another wolf to talk to about it. Not Derek. And not Scott, Scott hasn't been a werewolf for long." She ran her fingers through her hair. 

"I guess we have one more Hale we can visit." He said quietly. Y/N nodded. 

"I'll go see him. I need you to go look through the folders. Look for the missing hearts and anything that could be a clue." She quickly dropped the parker on Stiles' table and turned to walk out, but stopped in between the door.

"I don't have a car." She turned back to look at Stiles. He let out a laugh and then motioned for her to follow him.

"Come on, I'll take you there."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Peter lived on the side of Beacon Hills where Lydia did. The rich part of town. He moved into his house right when he was let out of the hospital after his miraculous recovery. Y/N actually helped him and Derek to pick the place and get him used to being around people again. No one really recognized Peter in town, which saved them a lot of explaining about how the hell he was walking and talking after spending six years in a coma.

Y/N thanked Stiles for the ride and closed the car door. She watched him drive away and then let herself in through the gate. She walked up the stone steps towards the front door and knocked. She didn't have to wait long before Peter opened it, frowning. When he saw her he smirked.

"Ah, Winchester. What can I do for you?" He asked, moving to the side so she could walk in. 

"Hi, Peter. Nice to see you too. Are you doing better?" She lifted an eyebrow at him and took off her shoes. She put them on the shoe rack in the huge hallway. 

"Did you come over only to ask me how I was doing or do you actually need something?" He led her towards the kitchen. 

"Oh, I just wanted to talk." She sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen island and put her phone in front of her.

"Talk? About what? And where is my nephew? Does he still refuse to buy a normal living space and tortures himself by sleeping in the burned-down house?" He pulled out two cups and started the coffee maker. 

"Derek is currently at the old house with Scott. And yes, he still lives there. He is way too stubborn to listen to us. Even though it would be safer for him to move somewhere else now that Kate is in town. That woman is a whole new level of crazy. But that's not why I'm here. I need to talk to you about werewolves. And about how they go rogue." Peter turned to look at her. 

"Why don't you ask your uncle about it?" He asked and placed one of the full coffee cups in front of her. 

"My uncle was in an accident a few days back. I don't really want to bother him now, as I am sure he and my brothers have a lot of stuff to do because the Leviathans are getting all around the USA." 

"Yes, I remember you telling me about him being shot. What do you need to know?" Peter sat down on one of the chairs on the other side of the island.  

"How does a wolf go rogue?" Y/N asked. 

"Depend on the situation. You can be kicked out of the pack, and then if no other pack wants you in, you lose it. You start going more and more feral. That's how omegas are made, but omegas are usually born wolves that go feral. The bitten omegas are more..." Peter stopped talking, thinking about how to say it correctly.

"They're the worst kind, right? The ones that feed on the hearts of humans?" Y/N asked quietly. Peter nodded.

"Yes, they are the worst. I don't know how, but they actually became weak to silver. Us born wolves aren't." 

"I know. It is a myth connected to the Argents as they are the oldest line of hunters ever." Y/N agreed. She then pulled her father's journal from the bag she had brought with her. 

"Can you look over this to see if there are correct facts?" She pushed the journal towards Peter, who took it in his hands carefully.

"It was my father's and my brothers left it with me just in case I needed it. And I know you know a lot of stuff about the supernatural as you yourself are supernatural. Also, Derek told me you used to have a lot of different bestiaries and other books before..." Y/N didn't finish the sentence when she noticed the pained look on his face. 

"Why are you asking me all this? You think the alpha is a bitten wolf?" Peter asked. The girl nodded. 

"If it was a born wolf someone would know something. There are not that many of you anymore and my brothers keep tabs on all of the packs with born wolves. They would know if one of them went rogue." Y/N explained.

"Did you tell any of this to Derek?" 

"No, are you crazy? You know him. He would go right after the guy and get himself killed in the process." She took a sip of her coffee and watched Peter as he agreed.

"If you are right, and you probably are... We are going to need all the help we can get. Derek is not as strong by himself, your friend Scott still doesn't really know how to have control over his shift, and the sheriff's kid is a skinny human who talks too much. Even with the help of your angel friend, my wolf is not healed fully yet. You are probably the strongest of us right now with your hunter training." Y/N knew what Peter wanted her to do. 

"I can't call them here Peter. They have a lot of stuff going on, I told you the Leviathans are everywhere-" 

"Y/N, you are creating a pack around yourself. The alpha is going to see you as a threat." Peter said as if it was nothing. Y/N froze in her seat.

"I'm creating a pack around myself? How is that possible? I'm not an alpha, not even a werewolf." The youngest Winchester looked so confused Peter had to laugh.

"It is possible. You have to have the right amount of Spark to pull it off. You are a Winchester. You and your brothers stopped multiple apocalypses. The angels watched over you. You went against multiple gods and came out alive. There is no one else that could do all that."

"So what, I'm an alpha, but not really?" Y/N cringed as she said that. It sounded ridiculous.

"Something like that." Peter shrugged and got up from his chair with her journal in his hands.

"If you'll need me I'll be in the library." With that, he walked away.

"Okay, hold up. You can't just drop that and walk away! Peter!" Y/N yelled as she watched his back disappear up the stairs. 

"You son of a bitch." She let out a sigh and put her empty cup in the sink. Her phone buzzed at the same time. She quickly picked it up and looked at the new text. 'There are at least 4 cases where bodies were missing hearts' was all it said. 

"Shit." She let out as she grabbed all of her stuff and ran out of the door. 

[miitarashi]

I acctually love ur writing so much so if this idea sounds crap then u dont need to do it lol but if possible, could you do like a prompt 20 (the wee "I hate u" "I hate u too" and then they kiss thing) on the list? I've literally never heard of that one before but it sounds quite interesting; also if possible could it be a Tintin x female reader? Like, I got a wee story in my head; they r work partners but dont get along too well sometimes but it's because they are hiding feelings or something; then eventually when working on a case, that wee "I hate u" thing, happens in a room whilst there on a boat after a disagreement about something (possibly about protecting Chang but that's just the first thing that comes to my mind). If u have a story in ur head already then yours is probably better so u dont need to do this if u dont want, or if it sounds rubbish (I'm not a writer as u can probably tell lol) and ur NSFW things r acctually so good so if u want to add like... yk.. stuff between Tintin and the reader to this then feel free, no pressure tho. I'm not right in the head and idk if any of that made sense :)

DAMM THAT IS A LONG ASS BIG REQUEST-

I read every little word regardless and bro??? Not me in love with the idea?? Even more because you used the prompt list! (I forgot about it lol). Don't you worry my dear unknow person! I'm much worse in the head and undestand what you tried to say lol.

[Name] = reader (female)

Warning: i'll have to do split it in two parts. This one is more context,have mentions of killing and curse, the second will have a little bit of spicy. I'll put the warning there too. It's a long ass reading so, well,you've been warned but i hope you like it!

Prompt: "i hate you!" "I hate you too!" And make out.

There's people that look at each other and just click right away. You and Tintin did it too,in a very...very not that friendly way.

You,a newbie jornalist woman,ready to go to hell and heaven for the best history to write,and Tintin,a veteran at this point,fellow jornalist that would give you great advices for you to have a good start. That was everyone's first thought,but.

You were a bit childish and chaotic exactly because you didn't cared about what you had to do for your story,always complaining about Tintin's plans because most of them demanded time to act. You wanted now and against his words,you jump on the danger making him go right after you.

Yes, he's reckless,but you? 100% worse.

You two did click,but in a hateful way. Haddock aways tried to stop your arguments,never really did it because both of you didn't stop,wanting to always have the last word. It was hard to bear,for everyone,day by day looked more that you two grow the hate from each other.

Not that wrong,but not completely right too. Not saying that he didn't really hate you,believe me,he do. But he hate even more how much time he pass distracted looking at you, taking every little detail. The way your hair is always in a pony tail and showing a little bit of a tongue when you was thinking hard,the little smile you do at something that you writed on your article,your eyes, cute nose...lips...

And you? On the same board. You just love seeing him having a little time with Milu,his happy smile gets you everytime. The freckles on his cheeks,not even getting start with that cute topknot,blue eyes...his hands...

If someone see the real situation, would be laughing by how comic it all is. This,until you really messed up,almost costing someone's life beside yours. It's ok when is yours,you know how dangerous things can be but,other person...this is a really bad thing. The worst? It was Chang and Haddock as well,basically Tintin's family.

You two,along with Haddock had just saved Chang from kidnappers that focused on him because of some problems with the Wang family,but some of the mens was still following you all,Tintin said for you to stay with them (Chang and Haddock) to help if something goes wrong but you,like always, didn't listen and run alongside him. Just like he thought,some of the guys managed to go from the back near from where Chang and Haddock was,almost getting the both of them. Because of you.

Luckly,being close enough you two run right back knocking the guys down and going away as fast you all could,back for captains ship. It wasn't that hard to say how mad he was with you and he had all the rights for it.

"I asked for one thing [Name],didn't you see how our situation was before doing your reckless plan to just rush forward like a suicidal person?!" - he didn't raised his tone just yet,but the anger was pretty clear in each word.

"Yeah yeah,i'm sorry ok?! I thought i could-"

"Oh well,that's new,you thinking at once. Not even surprised that the only moment you stop to think end up almost getting two people killed!" - he cut you mid sentence.

This,you hated this on the most. If he's right,he use it against you without mercy. Your eyes rolled in annoyance,making him even more angry if that is possible.

"I said sorry,if you don't want it don't take it,i'll not lost time with you now"

You shrug it off,turning your back and walking away for your room. He look at Haddock and Chang for a moment,making sure both of them were ok before leaving to follow you,the discussion didn't ended yet. Haddock tried to stop him,even Chang,but your nonchalant "sorry" get under his skin to the point where both knew what was about to happen.

He didn't even knocked,just open the door looking right at you hearing you groan annoyed.

"Forgot how to knock?-"

"Don't start" - he close the door with a small thud and walk closer.

"Do you know what type of consequences your acts could have caused today? The world don't roll around you [Name]"

"I said sorry already,didn't i? What more do you want?? For me to ask for forgiviness on my knees in front of you??"

"You didn't mean your words,you just said what was necessary to dodge the conversation"

"Conversation my ass,you just come here to lash your stupid anger on me"

He open just a bit wide his eyes,seeming both surprised and confused. How you could be this dense? How you can not see that your careless actions affect people around you too?

"Stupid?? Do you undestand,that what you did almost cost the captain and Chang's life?!" - still didn't scream,but was close.

"They know how to handle-"

"Chang was hurted and Captain was in a ambush [Name]!"

Now,he screamed. You even flinched slightly by how sudden this was,you messed up. Badly.

"Explain then! How they could handle an ambush with one hurted and having only captain against armed people?! How?!"

His voice was loud. Frustration,anger even sadness was there, it's rare to see him like this but how could he not feel this way? That was a close,really close one,if you two wasn't near enough to run back to help them...

"They- they're not child for us to-"

"I TRUSTED YOU!" - it was you openning your eyes wide in surprise.

"I trusted that you would hear,at least this time,my request to stay and help them! Why you always like this?! Why you think so little about people's life?! Isn't captain your friend too?! You don't care about him?! What is wrong with you?!"

Tintin wasn't even lashing,it was a honest vent. He reach the limit with you,this was his try to maybe stop this hateful thing trusting one of the most important thing for him,but this is how you respond? He's right,but not about everything.

"What is wrong?...let's start by the fact that you always make me disappear from the view. I'm a jornalist too,but they never look at my work,only yours! Why i don't care about my life? Is to at least have a little spot since you take everything for yourself! That's way i throw myself forward,trying to get it before you or else everything was for nothing! Being journalist is my dream but you-" - you had to pause to breath,it was a lot of things,basically venting like he did.

"I don't want to be famous. Never wanted,just one time,i only want one time that my story get readed by people...i..." - you stop again,letting a deep breath.

"I know that what i did was wrong and i'm sorry,really sorry" - your tone growing more sincere and remorseful by what you did. But soon,the frustration come back - But dammit,i don't know what to do anymore! It's always you! Tintin that,Tintin this,Tintin Tintin Tintin!"

You finished with an angry groan under your breath. He could tell that at least this time your sorry was genuine,but something still linger on the back of his mind. You almost get them killed for a selfish reason. Not that the ginger-haired boy didn't see it happening. Both of you writed articles but only his was on the newspaper,of course it was unfair with you,even more because he readed and it was good,your details,explanations about the case,overal view of everything. He was still angry but...confused?

"Why is always you?!" - he snap back when you quickly turn to face him,walking closer.

"I'm a journalist too,i make articles too but is always,only about you!"

"It's...not my fault-"

"Yes it is!"

"Don't change the subject! You still risk other peoples life for a selfish reason,just because you envy me??"

Neither him knew what he was saying about exactly. Talking back by impulse,his words get you off guard. He was right again,wasn't he? Being this arrogant towards him since the first day was just...envy. You wanted be like him,be him. How embarrassing this sounds, even more than the other little thing on the back of your mind.

"I...what are you talking about? Me?? Envying you? Oh come on. Drop the attitude little man,you're only embarrassing yourself" - internally,you was making a face palm at how childish this comeback sounded.

"Embarrassing myself? You're the one acting like a little kid because of something foolish like envy. Grow up [Name]. You're only embarrassing yourself"

"You didn't- you know what?! Fuck you!" - you give a step closer looking at him still angry.

"Say what?!-" - he step forward too.

"That's it! I'm done with your shit! I said sorry already,even said more than i should. I'm tired of your baby face in front of me!"

"Said the one who don't even have a brain to think properly about her own decisions!"

Again, another step near. Every curse was right followed by a step until you two were close looking deep in each other's eyes. Your voices sounded angry, your eyes not and you both realized it. That feeling on the back of your head tingling by the proximity...

---> Part 2

[thehamletdiaries]

a comedy of errors (or: getting to Wittenberg)

So, I have, for a long time, wanted to visit Wittenberg, for obvious reasons. It is where my boys went to university, it is where they met; it’s a huge part of their story.

It’s also, it turns out, a nightmare to get to, particularly if you try and do it by train, from Amsterdam.

It was meant to be about a seven hour journey - which seems long but I’ve done longer and I was not especially phased by that. When one of my trains, however (there were…I don’t even remember…about five changes in the original route I was meant to take), simply did not exist, I was a little phased by that. I’d actually been indirectly warned the week before by a lovely woman I was on a writing retreat with; she is German and had written a short piece about how bad the German train system is.

So, when that train did not materialise, I decided to just keep going in the right direction. If there was a train I could get on that would take me across Germany headed east, and ideally heading a bit southeast if possible, I’d get on it. Well, I did that until it was too late at night and the next train from wherever I was at that point wasn’t until the next day, so I gave up and booked myself into a cheap hotel.

The next day, I started off in the same way; getting on trains that were heading in roughly the right direction, until finally, I end up in Magdeburg and there it is; an S8 that takes me right to Wittenberg station, at the perfectly reasonable time of 4:45pm. It’s freezing cold, even in the waiting area, but I only have about an hour to wait.

And then the train doesn’t come. It vanished from the board and was replaced by the next train. I’m very sure that it didn’t just change platforms or anything because everyone else waiting on the platform with me just sort of sighs and goes back into the waiting room. There is another S8 coming at 6:45pm. Not as good, but still fine. Except now I’m worried that train will also just…not turn up. But I don’t know what else to do, so I wait (I did at some point during all of this look at taxi options but there were no taxis around and every online and app based booking option I looked at said none were available to take me that far).

And then the 6:45pm train doesn’t turn up either.

At this point I’m freezing cold and trying to work out what on earth to do. Do I go to Berlin, which is absolutely in the wrong direction, and then see if I can get a train south from there? 

And then this guy carrying a Primark bag comes up to me. I’d seen him waiting on the train platform. Now, as a woman travelling alone, if a random guy comes up to you, you really do want to be careful. But I’ll say that all the vibes from this guy felt good and earnest and not at all creepy - and I was proved right in that so…sometimes you do have to trust your instincts on stuff like that.

Anyway, this guy comes up to me and just says, “Wittenberg?”. I don’t know how he knew I was going to Wittenberg, because the S8 stopped at a bunch of other places too, but I just nodded. I couldn’t ask him how he knew, or rather why he thought, I was going there either because he didn’t speak any English (and I know only enough German to say hello and thank you). He then typed out something into google translate on his phone; he was asking, if we split a taxi fare, if I wanted to share a taxi. Considering I had no idea how to get a taxi from there at all, I readily agreed - and long story short he did, somehow, get us a taxi and we drove through the dark to Wittenberg, communicating where needed via google translate on our phones. The taxi dropped me off just down the road from where I was staying so he walked me down to the apartment and then said goodnight and headed off. I was genuinely so grateful for his help.

So then, I get inside the apartment and open the lockbox which was supposed to have the key in it. It opens with the code I was given…but it is empty. I swore under my breath. 

I ended up knocking on apartment 1 (I was staying in apartment 3) where I could hear music was playing and a very nice young girl staying there let me leave my bags there and advised me to ask the guy in apartment 4. I knocked, but there was no answer…but then I thought I could hear someone in apartment 3. So I knock and a guy opens the door. Which is slightly bewildering. He also doesn’t speak English - and again, I have no German - so it’s back to google translate and long story short, they have double booked us. He tries to call the people letting out the apartment, with no success…and eventually I ask him if, for the night (it’s about 8:30pm by that point) there is a sofa I can stay on or something; I literally have nowhere else to go. He nods and shows me there are actually two bedrooms - not that either of us paid to have to live together, but for one night it seems like our only option.

However, I was only there for maybe an hour and a half when he knocks on my door to tell me, via google translate, of course, that the people letting the place rang him back and I can have apartment 2, which is free. He gives me the code for the lockbox - this time there is a key in there - and offers me a teabag from his selection to take with me.

I can imagine Horatio living in this room.

Without the modern trappings, of course (unless we are talking about a version which takes place outside of a specific time period, in which case…). It’s small but it’s big enough to live in, with a table and chairs, a sofa, a bed and a kitchen all in one room. There is a little trunk I could imagine him keeping books in. It’s a modest place, but he’d say he couldn’t want for anything more.

(ignore my mess)

The streets do look like how I’d imagine them to look.

I can imagine Hamlet and Horatio here so clearly.

From the apartment, you can hear the church clock. It chimes every hour.

[teacasket]

sweater weather

genre: fluff au: non-idol au warnings: none word count: 0.6k   pairing: f!reader x yang jeongin

There are two things that people get wrong about your family: one, because you’re a woman, you must be the fashionable one of the parents so two, you must also be the one that picks out the matching outfits. In actuality, you don’t really care. Until you met Jeongin in college, you dressed yourself in a vaguely trendy way. Maybe a little outdated, but nobody would ever think twice if they saw you on the streets. Nowadays, nearly everyone does a double-take. A trio of extremely fashionable people is intimidating, but a family? A family makes strangers give out compliments, ask where you got that cute skirt from, and take discreet photos for #inspo or something. Let’s face it, you’re probably on someone’s Pinterest board because according to Jeongin, a weekend outing to the park and then the market calls for a tailored suit jacket for him, a pair of vintage boots for you, a beret for your five-year-old daughter, and a bowtie for the dog.

“I win,” you laugh as your daughter thrusts a limp beret into your husband’s hands before running after the dog. “It hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet.”

“One of these days, she’ll appreciate it,” he sighs. “She’ll be voted ‘best dressed’ in the yearbook and remember that it was all because of me.”

At the very moment, your daughter unceremoniously drops her little purse onto the ground to follow a squirrel. “Keep dreaming, love. She takes after her mom.”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips to kiss it. You feel his sigh on your skin as he watches her kneel on the ground in her new olive-colored overalls. “She does. In the best and worst ways. Next time, you choose and I’ll do her hair?”

“What hairstyle do you think goes best with hoodies and jeans?” you muse while trying not to laugh at the horrified expression on his face. “Oh, c’mon. You wear them all the time. Plus, I’ve seen you wear cargo shorts before, and those are objectively worse.”

“I was fifteen and dumb. Plus,” he says, mimicking your tone, “your idea of hoodies and jeans is…”

“Extremely fashion forward.” 

He groans, but there’s a whisper of a grin in his frown. You know he’s thinking about how you showed up to your first date dressed in that. In your defense, all he told you was to ‘wear something comfortable.’ “Anything else.”

“You’re not allowed to complain or veto.”

The horror of a regular outfit in mind, he forgets the other options available and readily agrees to your deal. Of course, during the next weekend outing, he’s all complaints and vetos when he sees you bringing down a familiar box from the top shelf of the closet. DAD’S KNITTING STUFF is the home and cemetery to Jeongin’s attempts of knitting matching sweaters. They’re not necessarily bad; they’re just a little amateurish compared to what seasoned grandmas can do.

“Don’t do this to me,” he pleads.

“You put in all this hard work! You should at least show it off.”

“I should have burned these.”

You ignore his remarks. “This is mine,” you say as you pull out a red one on the top of the pile, “and this green one is yours. These two are definitely for the kid. So small! I swear I remember you looking up how to make dog sweaters…”

Despite his lamentation, in the end, the Yang family wears their Jeongin-made sweaters with pride and in your case, a smugness that can only be achieved through beating someone at their own game. #inspo