#she wears nothing but black and her nails are always a black French tip

[becca-e-barnes]

I’m feral for subby Bucky. I need him on the floor crying and begging for my pussy, a babbling bitch of a mess.

Okay love youuu💜

Maybe I've got too soft recently but I'm so into the thought of being sweet and gentle and encouraging with subby Bucky?

I can't stop thinking about how pretty he could look on his knees in dim bedroom lighting and the way it would accentuate those muscular thighs. He's naked, watching you, stroking his cock a little more frantically than you'd usually allow.

"Please." He sounds more composed than he looks and he's not afraid to keep eye contact with you while he begs.

"I need to feel you." He watches as you trail your finger gently across your own glistening sex, spreading your legs nice and wide so he's got a perfect view from the floor.

You don't respond. There's no sense in breaking a silence that heavy. Not when you know his mouth is watering, imagining the way you'll feel when you engulf his cock and then the way you'll taste while he licks his cum out of your freshly fucked pussy.

"I need you." He whispers, his mouth running faster than his brain. His dick throbs in his hand, precum dribbling down his shaft, over his fingers, making each stroke a little more slick.

"Then have me, sweetheart. I'm all yours." He didn't expect the softness in your voice or the way you tenderly hold his chin to pull him in for a kiss.

He's slipping just a little faster than he wants to but it feels lovely. He's safe, he's loved, he's free to explore interests he's never given much time to and it's all starting to feel quite comfortable and natural to him.

"I love you, I hope you know that." You whisper, kissing his forehead while you line his tip up to your entrance.

"Oh God." He whimpers, his head falling onto your shoulder because he can't look at you now. Not as he's pressing into you and you're being so gentle with him. It'll be overwhelming and he simply can't have that.

"I love how you make me feel. I love getting to see you like this." You coo softly, stroking the back of his head, enjoying his hot, erratic breathing on your neck.

Inch by inch, he slides inside you. It's slow and reverent and considerate and downright perfect.

"You don't need to last, sweetheart. Let me take care of you for now and we can go a little bit longer later." Your offer isn't one he can turn down. He's been too aroused for too long and taking the edge off is exactly what he needs so he can focus on your pleasure.

His thrusts from then on are much faster, his tip rubbing your sweet spot delightfully and while it's not enough to get you off, it leaves you arching yourself closer to him.

It doesn't take long for him to become a babbling mess, panting and moaning against your neck, begging to be allowed to cum inside you.

"I'm so proud of you." You remind him, holding him as close as you can. There is no closer than this; not with him inside you but it still feels important to be unreserved in how much you want him. "I'm so proud of you. It's okay sweetheart, I've got you. You're okay, I've got you."

You feel his hips stutter, his shaft pulsing and throbbing as he shoots his first load into you, buried as deep inside you as he can manage. There are a few tender moments where you just hold him, kissing his broad shoulders while he catches his breath, letting him get comfortable on your chest.

[all444miles]

can you please do 42!miles with a baddie like a Megan type vibe? SHE HAS A PINK JEEP

💗💗💗💗

— SHE A BADDIE

— pairing: e42!miles x fem!black!reader — genre: fluff — summary: what its like for 42 miles to date a reader with a "baddie like megan" vibe. — a/n : i felt like i was a lil lazy writing this, sorry ! can yall tell i got excited abt the jeep n the attitude part.. its litch what kept me writing this whole thing 😭 also, a car creeper is those lil things u slide under to fix the underside of ur car — a/n 2: changed the way i start writin a jus a lil, petition for head over heels 42 miles supremacy !! + this was so fun.. like i was writing this n i was like "lemme be this when i grow up" LMAOOO so ty for the request anonnn, mwah and enjoy !!

MILES FALLS IN LOVE with you every second. like, honestly, just do anything, he's wrapped around your finger.

maybe he'll try and hide it, but you make him fold 24/7. you dont even have to do nothing.

it's just something about your energy, the way you dont give a damn about nothing, he just loves it. y'all are like beast boy and raven.

"mama, you killin' me right now." "hm? did i do somethin'?" "i love you so, so much. i swear, you make me weak." "aww, hun, I love you more." "yeah, keep dreamin'. now, lemme love on you."

hype man, hype man, HYPE MANN

when I say if you want to do anything he's here for it, he's here for it.

you wanna get your hair done? he's at your service.

you wanna go to the mall? he's already throwing you the keys to your jeep.

you wanna get your nails done? show him your options (he always likes the french tips, esp this.)

"Y'know Miles, i think this set ain't looking too good no more.." "You wanna get new nails?" "Mhm, wanna help me pick?" "'Course I do, let's see em."

does not care what you wear, he's always gonna say you look gorgeous. plus, he can fight. but, he's always got his hands on your waist. always.

you're your own girl, he knows that. he spoils you, yes, but he'll always let you do your own thing.

he can't explain it, but when you refer to him as "my man", or your anything, really, it does something to his heart.

yk when latto goes "ty to my man"? yeah, that's you.

"My nails? Yeah, my man helped me pick 'em."

you have attitude. Miles doesn't mind, he's a "yes ma'am" kind of guy, but if it's to him, hes gonna shut you down.

a lot of the times, you won't care, and it won't end in an argument, becuase he's still shutting you down regardless.

"Miles, you lost your shit or sum." "Amor, drop that tone f'me, aight?"

you are a party animal, and Miles? He'll just be in the back, watching you do your thing with your friends. If you ask him to dance with you though, he will for sure.

Will he throw money on you? Yes, yes he will. (Not sexual btw !)

Your jeep. He has his own car, but he honestly loves yours the best.

He helped you decorate it, all pretty and pink

He will happily get in your jeep while you blast Megan or Rihanna because c'mon now, who wouldnt?

I'm insistent he's good with mechanics, so he'll tune your car whenever you need him to, bryson tiller or tory lanez playing while he does so. (i'm losing my shit rn.)

"Cariño, ¿puedes pasarme esa llave inglesa? It's to ya left." (Baby, can you pass me that wrench?)

he'd say, sliding out from the car creeper under the hood of your pink jeep, sliding back in after you passed him the tool.

and after about 15 minutes, he'd come back out, putting a dirty cloth over his shoulder, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

its a sight to see: white tank top, slightly stained with grime from fixing your car; his favorite gold chain glistened in the sun, adorned with beaded glints of sweat from his neck.

"Aight, i think she's good, you can start her up if you wanna." "Yay! thank you for fixing my car, baby, I love youu."

you'd squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck to plant a kiss on his cheek, your pink tinted lip gloss staining his face.

"Ain't no problem princesa, I love you too."

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[insanitybl00m]

rambles about my new au

Insipired by a post I found on this hell site that I cannot find so I cannot give credit to the og creator, i'm so sorry (it should be different enough from it tho I added my own stuff)

It's narrated by Tallulah (because I can, my story woo!)

Apartment AU (the apartments are rented out by The Federation™, a weird company that most people know nothing about (hehe yes the feds exist))

Humanized eggs!!

So tallulah moves in with her abuelo and uncle chay while her Papi Wilbur goes on tour. (im going off old terms because I navigate the change in terms in it later lol)

Her abuelito Phil is rather connected in the community, he's close friends with almost everyone it seems!

There is something weird about a lot of her new "tios" and "tias" though.

Abuelito Phil always leaves a trail of inky black feathers wherever he goes.

Tia Jaiden also leaves feathers wherever she goes, hers are just a soft blue, almost teal-like color with purple tips.

Tio Quackity also seems to leave feathers but his are much smaller yellow ones, they almost seem damaged in some places.

Tio Roier can jump crazy high and he's really nimble. He also seems to have like two extra sets of eyes, but you can't really notice them unless you see them out of the corner of your eye. It's probably her mind playing tricks on her though. right?

Tio Slime is a little off, apparently, he's been like that since his daughter Juana died though. Tallulah feels bad for him sometimes, He says that she's still around though and Tallulah seems to be the only one who believes him, but she swears she's seen the girl running through the hallways of the apartment building, giggling with another strange kid who wears a bow on their head.

Tio BBH, or as everyone calls him Tio Bad, is the nicest person around. He constantly bakes muffins for the kids and sometimes even the parents. His kid Dapper is a little weird though. That's ok Tallulah likes weird. Chayanne and Phil tell her that Dapper likes summoning things, apparently demons-- But surely that's just a rumor, there's no such thing as demons

Tio Missa seems to come and go reguarly, she only catches him lingering around the apartment once or twice the first few months she's living with them despite the fact he lives with them. He always seems cold and he only appears late at night when everyone else is asleep. If Tallulah wasn't left gifts by him she would swear that he's a ghost or just a figment of her imagination.

At times, new groups of residents move in; a group of Brazilians and their son on the second floor, a group of French on the third with their daughter; and finally another group of people with three different kids on the fourth floor!

But there's something weird about them too.

Tio Cellbit is almost like a cat. His hair even does this thing when he's startled where it almost seems to start to stick straight up. Just like the cats she sees following Tio Fit! (tio cellbit's nails are also really sharp, richas has called them claws before.)

Tio Mike has some interesting habits, sometimes Tallulah sees one of his eyes glow pink and hears him talk in a slightly higher voice. Apparently, when this happens Richas starts to refer to the voice as mamae mine

Tia Baghera has that feather thing that the others have! Like Papa Phil, Tia Jaiden, and Tio Quackity! Her feathers are most similar to tio Quackitys though. Just a little longer than his short damaged ones.

Tio Antoine is... well... Interesting. He's always disappearing but when he randomly appears he's always just... weird. Tallulah feels like she can't fully comprehend what he looks like, whenever she tries to draw him or even describe him it always sounds or looks wrong.

Tio Etoiles is very strong! Tallulah likes him, his arm sometimes glows though... like Tio Slime's does!! they've probably been hanging out together.

Tia Mouse is really nice and her voice is as sweet as candy! She has really sharp teeth though... but that's ok because she gets along well with Tio Bad, and if Tio Bad trusts her even with her sharp teeth than so does Tallulah!

Tia Tina's teeth are also very sharp sometimes, but she says to ignore them when they're sharp, apparently they grow too quickly sometimes for her to keep filing down, whatever that means...

Tio Tubbo is obssesed with creating robots and automating things. Tallulah has never seen him sleep, just sunny, his daughter.

Tia Bagi is also like Tio Cellbit, which makes sense since they're twins. They're both catlike.

Basically this au is like an apartment where everything is really eerie as Tallulah is discovering secrets about this place

Im not good at writing unsettling things though but IM TRYING

[springsaladgaming]

What sort of outfits would the ROs wear to a nice formal event? Thank you!!

Hi, anon!

I was going to link an ask I had a while back (not because I've answered this before, but because it was about masquerades and might be of related interest), but the terrible Tumblr search feature strikes again, and I can't find it. Just know that it exists somewhere, if you're brave enough to look for it.

But regarding your question! Bear in mind that I am woefully uncultured when it comes to formal dress and what different types of fancy clothing might be called, but I'll try my best!

Alex - Favors a vest for formal events, in whatever form that would take. Vest over a button-down and some formal slacks or a faux vest dress. They are likely to pick less traditionally formal colors and go with colors that make them stand out, sometimes in the form of fancy patterns. Their shoes are the one place where they'd indulge in comfort over fashion, probably wearing flats or loafers. They would accessorize mainly with belts, earrings, and bracelets. Alex might do up their hair fancy if they feel like it, but they would stick to high bun styles. Alex doesn't prefer makeup, but they might do some light eye makeup if the situation calls for it.

Teagan - The least formal he could possibly be. He's had his fill of stuffy formal events and doesn't particularly like dressing formal, so he'd probably go the most basic black or khaki slacks with a solid-color button-down shirt and loafers. No accessories, nothing fancy with his hair, no exciting patterns, no makeup or nail polish.

Ansel - Very close to how he dresses normally, but nicer clothing. Long-sleeved button-down shirt, tie or bow-tie, formal slacks usually black. He might add a vest and jacket if the event is especially formal. He'll also wear fancier shoes than normal and has a pair of glasses with a fancy frame that he wears for formal events. He might braid his hair rather than keep it in a ponytail like normal.

Cherry - Bouffont or a-line style dresses, probably in warmer colors. With or without patterns, depending on what kind of formal event it is. Very light makeup if she is applying it herself, but she'd be willing to do more makeup if she has someone knowledgeable to help her. She's not really one for jewelry, but she might wear some understated earrings or bracelets. Whatever nylons match the dress she's wearing, and probably wedges or kitten heels because they are a little easier to walk in.

Lucia - Most likely to show up looking like a Vogue model. Lucia loves fashion and loves all different styles of clothing. Dresses, pantsuits, blouse & skirt—she will wear anything to a formal event. Big on makeup, nail polish, and accessories too. She'd pick from a wide variety of hairstyles too. Lucia is very much a "you'll never see me in the same formal outfit twice" kind of person. Don't even get her started on shoes. Lucia's taste in fashion is waaaay bigger than her wallet.

Rene - He would show up in a proper tux, though he might play around with the colors a bit rather than sticking to the basic formal colors. He'd also paint his nails to match his tux—or a partner's outfit if he's attending the event with someone. While he doesn't change his hair style often, he changes his hair color a lot and would try to coordinate that with his outfit if possible.

??? - She attends a lot of events for both family and the family business, so she often dresses in a business formal on an everyday basis. For special formal events, she prefers form-fitting dresses, usually strapless or halters, typically in dark colors. She usually has that kind of femme fatale look, especially when it comes to her makeup. She'll wear necklaces and bracelets, but only very sleek, minimalist ones. Her nails are always manicured, usually with some kind of french-tip, but she'll do other styles as well.

I hope this paints enough of a picture! Thanks for the ask!

[tsumugimagines]

asdfghjkhfsa just got here and aro-ace gang✨✨✨ anyways, can i get some Shuichi, Gundham, Kaede, and Kokichi (seperately lol) stuff? It can be angst, it can be fluff, it can be hurt/comfort, idc, just make it sfw please. (i may or may not have read all the content i can get my hands on for those characters already nope couldn't be me) btw, since i'm going to be hanging around here for a while, can i be 🎮 anon?

Sure! Welcome to the party, 🎮 anon! Anything I want, eh? Well, since you didn't specify if it was with an S/O or not, how about... Painting a friend's nails! Sine you want them all separately, this'll require some creativity on my part. I hope you enjoy it!

Shuichi Saihara

"Please, Saihara-Kun! I am sure you will do a fine job of it. You will not do any damage to my hands!" Kiibo insisted. "I wish to be part of this manicure activity as well!"

"I-I... Well, okay, but... I've never done this before." Shuichi admitted, sitting at the table across from the now eager robot. "Um... What color do you want?"

"I believe this teal color would look best on me." Kiibo replied, pointing to a bottle hesitantly. Shuichi nodded and started to unscrew the cap, only to realize he was twisting the wrong way. He sighed and twisted the cap correctly, opening the nail polish. To any onlooker, one thing was obvious: Neither party knew what he was doing.

"Try and hold still, okay? It'll make things easier." Shuichi requested, taking the brush out of the bottle. Kiibo nodded, sitting up straight and holding as still as he possibly could.

"I understand."

"Kiibo-Kun... I need you to hold out your hands so I can paint them."

"Oh, right!"

With that, Shuichi bit his lip and began to paint the tips of Kiibo's fingers. Kiibo did not have any visible fingernails, but Shuichi tried his best to approximate where they would be. Kiibo didn't say a word or move at all until Shuichi was finally done applying a coat of color to each finger.

"They look excellent, Saihara-Kun!"

"R-Really?"

"Yes, they do! Thank you so much!"

Kiibo and I grew a little closer today.

You gained a Hope Fragment!

Gundham Tanaka

"Hmph... The gall! The sheer nerve!"

"Tanaka-Kun-" Sonia started.

"The idea that I, Gundham Tanaka, Supreme Overlord Of Ice, would engage in such an activity?! Preposterous! Incomprehensible! Inconceivable!"

"Then why do you own a bottle of black nail polish, Tanaka-Kun?"

Gundham seemed to wilt. "I-I... Erm..."

"Tanaka-Kun, such a thing is nothing to be ashamed of." Sonia assured, offering a smile. "Should I offer to paint your nails instead?"

"N-No!" Gundham recovered, hiding his blushing face with his scarf. "I am sure I shall manage just fine. Mirage Golden Hawk Jum-P shall sit by your side as we proceed, to ensure that you are protected from any dark forces that may disrupt this delicate ritual."

"Wonderful!" Sonia beamed, sitting cross-legged in front of Gundham. The sleepy white and brown hamster, as promised, made his way to Sonia's side and curled up there, closing his eyes. Sonia held out her delicate hands, and Gundham proceeded with the manicure. There was a period of silence before Gundham finally spoke.

"Tell me, Lady Of Darkness. Are such traditions as this prominent in the realm in which you usually reside?"

"Oh, yes! I have seen many palace servants with painted nails! I think it is as common in the kingdom of Novoselic as it is everywhere else."

"I see." Gundham replied. He had completed his work quickly and skillfully, applying multiple coats of polish to each finger. Now he was getting ready to apply the clear top coat.

"My goodness!" Sonia giggled. "You seem to have experience in painting nails, Gundham!"

"Hmph... I am Tanaka The Forbidden One! To think I would not be skilled in such a menial field as this is absurd."

"If you say so." Sonia replied knowingly, allowing the breeder to finish applying the top coat to her nails with a smile.

Kaede Akamatsu

"There you are!" Kaede exclaimed, practically lighting up with excitement as the door opened.

"Hey, Akamatsu-San." Rantaro greeted, rubbing the back of his head a little. "What's this about?"

"Oh, well, remember how you gave me an amazing manicure a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah. Why?"

"Well, I wanted to return the favor!" She proclaimed, gesturing to a table laden with all the appropriate items needed. Rantaro could even see a book on the table titled "Manicures for beginners."

"Oh, really?" Rantaro chuckled. "Well, I don't see why not."

"Great!" Kaede replied, sitting down. Rantaro sat down across from him and extended his hands.

"Do you have a color preference, Amami-Kun?" Kaede asked, laying down a towel for her to work over.

"No, not really. Guess if I had to pick, I'd go with either green or black, but my sisters always insisted on painting 'em pink for some reason."

"Aw, that's adorable!" Kaede giggled, opening a bottle of dark green nail polish. "Did they stick little rhinestones on, too?"

"They tried once. I think more polish ended up on the carpet than on my hands." Rantaro chuckled.

"Well, that's what happens when you give kids messy things, I guess." Kaede replied with a smile as she began to paint Rantaro's nails. He let out a small chuckle, echoing the words she had said to him a long time ago.

"H-Hey, Akamatsu-San! That tickles!"

Kaede giggled in reply, continuing on with her work. Rantaro spared another glance at the "Manicures For Beginners" book at the edge of the table as Kaede began to attempt a French Slant of her own. He had a feeling that she would give him a better manicure than his sisters ever had, but he would never have said that out loud.

Kokichi Oma

"Okie dokie! How are things going with you two?" A masked girl with ponytails asked in a singsong voice.

"Perfectly!" Kokichi beamed, not looking up from his work. The unfortunate recipient of the manicure, a well-endowed woman wearing gold hoop earrings, gave a pained smile. Clearly, things were not going perfectly.

"Um... Interesting color combo you've got going there!" Someone else commented, peering over Kokichi's shoulder. "Very... Bold!"

"Nishishi! You flatter me." Kokichi chuckled in reply.

"Did you... Color one of her nails with an orange marker?" Someone else asked. By now, every single member of D. I. C. E was leaning over, looking at Kokichi's handiwork.

"Sure did!" He replied. "Okay... Done!"

"They look very colorful, Ouma-Sama." Someone else chuckled. "And so does the table."

"Nishishi! Of course they- Wait, what?"

Kokichi looked down at the table, seeing the splatters of color that now littered it. Everyone giggled.

"H-Hey! As your Supreme Leader, I order you all to stop laughing!" He scoffed. "We can clean this up fine!"

"I-I'll get some paper towels..." A girl with long brown hair sighed, turning before anyone could say anything more.

"So much for D. I. C. E manicure sessions, eh?" The tallest member of the group chuckled, looking at his red nails that now perfectly matched his bright afro.

"Pfft... What are you talking about? Seems like it was a complete success to me!"

The rest of the group giggled again. Kokichi looked up at them, annoyed.

"Hey! This is a super duper serious matter, you know!"

"Sure it is, Ouma-Sama." Someone else replied, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure it is."

[beware-of-you-98]

GOD fuck it

artsy goth lesbian!! emily and her sporty jock gf jj college au headcanons (tw// mentions of homophobia+transphobia but nothing graphic)

emily has subdued her goth look from high school by a lot

she’s more of a pastel goth

her hair is straighter, the blue streaks running through her hair more nearly than they ever were in high school

she’s traded in her faded band shirts and faux leather jackets for plain black tank tops or t-shirts with darker, more neutral toned flannels thrown over top

she still wears her fishnet stockings, the ripped skinny jeans and chains on her belt, but she loses the studs

(instead, she wears a simple black choker)

her nails are painted matte black, filed into short tips

(she keeps her pointer and ring finger nails cut though because..... well duh)

she does her makeup the same way: dramatic eyeshadow with winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch

the only difference is she wears charcoal gray lipstick instead of black

people are weary of her

she carries around a dark, black umbrella when it’s sunny out to protect her pale complexion

literally no one hears her talk

no one knows her major

all they know about emily is that she’s good at art

she excells in the french and math classes she’s in

emily prentiss is intimidating for crying out loud! you can’t blame people for being nervous around her!

(once, emily heard a rumor that she beat up laura sanderson because laura called her a homophobic slur)

(she totally did break laura sanderson’s nose because laura called luke alvez and his boyfriend spencer reid homophobic and transphobic slurs and the bitch made penelope garcia, the sweetest human being emily has ever met, cry)

(she doesn’t feel sorry about it whatsoever)

jj is the complete opposite of emily

she dresses in sports jersies, shorts and a comfortable pair of vans

in winter, she wears soft pastel colored sweaters and cuffed jeans

her hair is always up in a ponytail

everyone on campus seemingly knows who rising soccer star jennifer jareau is

she trains every single day in the gym and often will be seen jogging around campus with a few of her teammates

despite her popularity, she’s really down to earth and kind

she has a small group of friends that she hangs around with when she’s not with her team (the small group includes spencer, luke and penelope!!)

she politely declines invitations to join sororities and spends the time she’s not on the field studying

her best classes are science and english

spencer and penelope are like her siblings and she protects them fiercely

laura sanderson tries her one day by starting on spence and jj goes off on her

she chews laura out hardcore, leaving to go to the field only when her hands start to shake

(laura doesn’t mess with spencer after that)

no one ever expects jennifer jareau and emily prentiss to be dating at all

as far as anyone knows, they don’t interact

so when jj’s teammates spot emily prentiss sitting underneath a shaded tree with her sketchbook during their practices, they’re weirded out

after practice, one of them pulls jj aside and is like.... “that emo weirdo is watching us...”

jj just shoots her a glare and states firmly “my girlfriend is just waiting for me to be done with practice”

and then she turns back to emily and grins, jogging up to her and giving her a kiss

emily likes staying over in jj’s dorm to watch her study (she sketches her girlfriend sometimes)

jj always wrinkles her nose with a smile and goes “why do you always draw me?”

emily’s cheesy response is always “you’re my inspiration”

jj’s often the model she uses for her photography assignments

despite hating crowds and sports, emily always makes it to jj’s games

she’ll stand over under her umbrella no matter the weather to cheer her girlfriend on

most times, she chants “come on baby, you got this” under her breath as she watches her girlfriend on the field

if she makes a goal, emily can’t help but cheer

jj always makes it to emily’s art galleries and show openings

she loves emily’s photography so much because her girlfriend really has a talent for it

her favorite art pieces of emily’s are the pottery (her girlfriend makes the cutest tea pots and tea cups) and her colored pencil drawings because they look so real

[the sweaters jj wears in the winter are 100% emily’s but no one has to know that]

[hyperfixationtimego]

Happy little hcs to atone for my sins

Taka and Hina are study buddies

Sometimes Aoi manages to get Taka off track because she’s just so enthusiastic and wants to hear about all of her friends’ hyperfixations and special interests

37.2 minutes later

Taka’s infodumping about how he despises moral philosophy but also thoroughly enjoys it bc that’s how moral philosophers are

Or he’s infodumping about political science and debate tactics and how speeches were effective or not for various reasons

Sakura and Mondo work out together

It started off as a coincidence when they were in the gym at the same time but it kept happening so they called it a schedule

They talk about their SOs and they’re smiling

Sakura teaches Mondo certain stretches and exercises to help relax different muscle groups for whenever he pulls a muscle or has a flare up from the thing with the bikes

Leon constantly asks Chihiro to turn alter ego into a vocaloid or at least program a bit of that tech into their system

Bc he would rather shave his head again than talk to Sayaka about producing music

He just has so many ideas

And it’s cool when there are kinda punk rock songs that are covered in an 8-bit or a vocaloid style

Byakuya and Celeste have a small series of bets with low stakes about what their inferiors classmates will do to lead up to them jingling away morosely like the fools they are

Sayaka shamelessly advertises her group’s mercy to her classmates and friends

Everyone gets their nails painted at some point

Nobody knows how Byakuya got roped into it but it worked

Makoto has rainbow loom

Atua forgives you

anyway YEAH LEGIT?

Hina has fully and thoroughly fallen in love with all of her friends and classmates’ expressions whenever they’re talking about something that excites them omg 🥺

she sees someone rambling and having a good time and hears the enthusiastic pitch of their voice as well as the general Vibe™️ that they’re giving off and she just???? [Y E A R N]

:)

and also just???? her and taka being study buddies is so valid oh my god??? they’re really close because of it!!! And Taka always loves hanging out with her because he knows she’ll let him just Talk??? and he adores that about her????? And she’ll be ENGAGED which!!!!!! oh my god!!!!?????

hi in this house we love and adore hina

And Sakura and Mondo???? absolutely?????

they have friendly competitions over who can lift the most weights/do the most reps/etc. (they do it sparingly, ofc! bc Sakura at least knows that they’ll both be subconsciously trying to beat the other as opposed to listening to what their bodies need in the moment. Sakura is the single braincell of class 78 no I won’t take it back because it’s true)

and they totally doooooo like they both get such cute loveydovey pining expressions whenever it’s Their Turn™️ to discuss the latest cute thing their partner(s) did. and listening to the other talking???? oh my god it’s literally the neatest thing????

Sakura looking at Mondo: I would die for this man

Mondo looking at Sakura: this woman is literally beauty and perfection in human form

THEY’RE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS OKAY???

also chihiro joins them for training sometimes!!!! She obviously isn’t able to do as much as the other two are, but both Sakura and Mondo are always so proud of her progress??? They’re like “you are so cool and strong do you know that??? you better know that”

and speaking of chihiro hdbdvdvdvdvdvdvdvd on GOD Leon will Not leave them alone abt it and they’re just like

“y....you do NOT have the attention span,.......you’re gonna get frustrated within like the first five minutes......and then I’ll have done all that work for nothing..............”

but Leon’s >:( no I won’t!!!! music is my Passion!!!!!!!!

so it’s like *sigh* okay

and anyway leon genuinely does rlly like it???? like he gets burned out very easily and can only compose things in short bursts, but he’s always so so so proud of the finished products??? (Even if nobody else likes it but shush 😌)

and it makes chihiro :D to know that something she made (even if it was done with reluctance) has brought one of her closest friends so much happiness????? she’s also like good for Leon but also if he ever bothers them about something like that again they are Literally Going to Snap but that’s another story for another day vwv

AND YEAH LIKE. HE DOESN’T MIND TALKING TO HER ABT MUSIC IN GENERAL BECAUSE IT’S AN INTEREST THEY SHARE (quite possibly one of the only times they will have a conversation without one constantly insulting the other ❤️) BUT. ADMITTING TO HER THAT HE NEEDS HELP WITH IT IS THE WORST HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HSBDBSBD

god okay so. his first impression of her when they had just come to hope’s peak and met for the first time was “oh my god!!! she’s a pop idol!!! so she must know a lot about music!!! maybe she’ll help me become a popular musician!!!” and her immediate reaction when she first heard him ask was to literally roll her eyes and he was like oh okay fuck her actually

and then slow burn enemies-to-friends 💛

WHEBDVSVS CELESTE AND BYAKUYA JUST BEING RICH ASSHOLES IS SO FUNNY??? LIKE THEY HAVE WEALTH SOLIDARITY AND THEY ACT ALMOST LIKE alright your status makes you worthy of my time, I suppose-

they’ve had bets on everything from how many times kirigiri will pass out from exhaustion by the end of the school day, to how long it’ll take before Kirumi finally Loses Her Shit, to how many people will be harmed by Komaeda’s luck while hanging out with him.

Mfs about to die smh

and dhdbwvwbsvwvwb yeah like??? sometimes a normal conversation with maizono will turn into her being like “yeah, and by the way, if you’re looking for a change of style and wardrobe, you should check out the newest shirt my band just released as part of our merch drop, and-”

Makoto is the one who gets baited into her merch ads most often sndbsbsbdbdbw

even mentioning the word “merch” around Leon or Kaz will earn her a lot of groaning and sighing, and occasionally a pillow or other soft object being hurled at her face 💛

oh my god they all have a manicure spa day,,,,,,,class bonding 🥺

hdbdvdvdv they got Jill to break into his dorm and kidnap him ngl like the specifics they gave her were something along the lines of “use as much force as you need to without killing him” and she was like “DONE”

and okay I’m not gonna talk abt everyone’s nails but now I’m thinking about it and like-

Sayaka gets like a lighter violet background with gold and white stars smattered around them, more concentrated in some areas than others, and it’s generally very pretty 🥺

chihiro’s are a different solid pastel color on each finger!!! it’s very kidcore and fun and they love it so muchhhh!!!

leon gets a little self-conscious when it’s his turn because his nails are highkey disgusting from all the time he spends playing baseball - there’s dirt trapped under them and everything so he’s just like hhhhhhh anxiety go brrrr but anyway he gets solid black because he’s edgy and cool like that 😎

I think Taka gets a French manicure with little dark red flowers pressed towards the tips because!!! simple yet pretty!!!

Celeste probably takes the longest because her request is sooooo complicated like it’s black and red and long ass acrylics with overlapping patterns and everyone else just kinda sits there feeling h o r r i b l e for that poor nail stylist

Toko gets a checkerboard pattern, with each nail having a different neon color in place of white!!! Because she knows that Jill will find it cool and pretty and colorful the next time she fronts (visual stimming jill?? 👀)

Togami just picks whatever will get him out of the chair quickest hdbsvdvdvdbdbdb

anyway Makoto????? rainbow loom????? absolutely

he has so many bracelets!!!!! so many so many so many and he knows how to create such a wide variety of styles it’s so cool!!!!!! he wears a bunch of them at any given time because they are so fun to fidget with!!!! and rubber texture hvvvvhvv!!!!

and he creates personalized ones for his friends, too, like he knows their favorite colors and sometimes picks up on whether they prefer a certain style or not from the way they react to the other ones he’s made and it’s!!! just so neat!!!!!

I’m thinking about it and!!! he has a bi pride fishtail, a trans pride arrow stitch, a black and neon green railroad, a pastel pink/blue/purple/yellow ladder, a jelly yellow and green dragon scale, a rainbow double cross, and a bunch more!!! he also has a bunch with charms and beads added into them!!!!

He also makes them for his friends even if he knows they won’t wear them!! Like Toko, for example, isn’t the biggest fan of jewelry because she doesn’t like the texture, but he creates one for her anyway and fills it with so much love (it looks like a daisy chain!!!! because at least she’ll be able to look at it and hold it and still be interested in it without it needing to be on her wrist!!!)

he makes a ton of bright colored ones for Mukuro (usually either single or inverted fishtail because he knows she wouldn’t enjoy wearing anything too heavy or overbearing) so that she has more mobile visual stims!!!

similar for Jill!! although most of hers tend to be black and bright neon rainbow in various bulkier styles!!!! Jill will also force him to let her look at his bracelet-covered arm whenever they hang out because. my god,,,,,,so many Colors™️

he’s found that togami prefers black and white simpler styles, and that Kyoko absolutely adores singles, fishtails, and double fishtails in any shade of purple, and that Mondo likes any of the larger styles in darker colors + blacks and grays!!! Chihiro loves anything with jelly and glitter bands!!!

Leon usually only wears one at a time, but he cycles through every single one that his boyfriend’s ever made for him because????? GOD they’re so cool and his boyfriend is so crafty and incredible and just,,,,,,,,,hvvvhvv every time he looks at the one he’s wearing he’s able to calm himself down and remember that Makoto loves him........it’s also very good for stim and fidgeting <3

anyways sorry yes Makoto with a rainbow loom is filling me with serotonin and it’s canon now

[peachyteabuck]

nothing ever lasts forever ~ act iii, “if we ruled the world”

summary: a sort-of non-avengers au where everyone has their powers and absolutely no one is in a highly powerful mob (or, at least, that’s what the feds think). 

or, a commission in three parts for anonymous, who asked for a series about wanda x natasha x reader.

pairing: wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader

words: 3,501

trigger warnings: switch!nat, sub!wanda, dom!reader, strap ons, degradation, bratty wanda, brat taming 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

READ ACT I, ACT II

Wanda gets the text that night, just as you’ve fallen asleep and Wanda was about to follow suit. Your light snores fill the room, Wanda listens for them as her too-bright phone screen burns her eyes.

Office. Tomorrow morning. 10.

And then a knife emoji. Sharp. Natasha Romanoff does not tolerate a lot of things, including tardiness.

Wanda goes to bed afraid and wakes up even worse – the churning in her gut only intensifying as she walked up the concrete path that lead into Natasha’s house. She’s never been more terrified in her life. Is she about to be fired? Are you dead? Is she dead? Is Wanda a ghost? Has Natasha been convincing Wanda that she’s been alive this whole time and now it’s time to break the façade and have Wanda move onto the ghost realm?

Being called into Natasha’s office and being asked to sit in the center chair is nothing short of demoralizing, intimidating. She’s seen it happen before, clients or employees Natasha has to deliver terrible news to – they never take it well, always crying and sobbing and wailing. They always have to be carried away by the guards stationed outside Natasha’s office and into their cars.

Will that have to happen to her? Will two giant-ass dudes have to carry her outside so she can have an emotional breakdown on the impeccably well-kept grass? What if someone sees her having said emotional breakdown on the impeccably well-kept grass? What if Wanda Maximoff gets caught by the many institutions of which she is running and hiding from?

The chair has a heavy dent in it from the other shameful citizens (and non-citizens, and those not defined as people) of whom have sat in the chair before her. Natasha doesn’t meet Wanda’s gaze, keeping her eyes focused on the bare desk in front of her.

Both of them can barely breathe, each having an equally silent crisis. Neither speaks until the door has been long shut, the sounds outside the room blocked out by the heavy doors.

“I once had sex with your girlfriend,” Natasha says, so quick the words mesh into one.

Wanda shakes her head, running her hands through her hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Natasha exhales deeply, clenching her eyes shut before speaking again. “I had sex with your girlfriend.”

Wanda eyes go wide with sadness – worried her worst nightmare is true. “She…you…she chea-“

Natasha holds out her hands, only now realizing her mistake in phrasing. “NO! No! Absolutely not. No, that’s not what happened. That’s not…No, Wanda, she didn’t cheat on you with me, that’s not what I’m saying.”

Wanda – still wringing her hands – breathes deeply. “Then what…what…”

Natasha sighs, trying to find the right words. “Do you remember when Bucky got hurt? Like, when his arm got,” she wiggles the same arm Bucky lost in the accident – the one Natasha inadvertently caused.

Wanda looks confused but answers anyway. “Yeah, like a year ago.”

“I got, I got super drunk that night. And it was, uh, the woman is now your girlfriend, she uh…she helped me that night – she uh, she got me back to her apartment. Made sure I slept and didn’t die choking on my own vomit. And took care of me the next morning…” Natasha sighs, worried about what she’s going to say. “The next morning, we had sex.” Natasha whispers the last sentence sadly, wringing her hands. “We haven’t talked since.”

Wanda, stunned, says nothing. Each time she believes she’s found the words they fail to capture the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts flashing in front of her eyes. Blood pounds in her ears and her hands shake and her heart pounds – nevertheless, the two of them continue to converse even as Wanda’s eyes water. Everything’s a blur – the only clarity when Wanda thumps her way up the several flight of stairs that lead into her, your apartment.

She opens the door hastily, hands shaking near-violently as she finds the right key and turns it in the lock. If this were any other day, she’d step in as quietly as possible – try to be a voyeur in her own home to try and catch even a second of you cooking peacefully. You’re in one of her shirts, a large one that hits your thighs and rides up when you bent down or stand on your tip-toes or bend forward over a pot.

Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious, enough to distract from the matter at hand – to stop Wanda in her tracks as thick spices and hearty herbs fills her nostrils.

Still, it only allows her a few seconds of peace before she’s stepping into the kitchen, fists clenched at her sides and breathing quick and shallow. The wrath, the dread, it blinds and deafens her – the only thing Wanda hears being the only words she could hope would leave your lips.  

“I mean, I know what you did, what you do. You’ve told me enough I just…” you sigh. “I had no idea. I like, sort of knew what Nat did. I just didn’t have any idea that you two knew each other. Or that she, uh, was your boss.”

Wanda looks as if she’s about to cry, her chest heaving. “Are you sure?”

You nod, moving toward her but not touching her. “Wanda, I’d tell you if I fucked your boss the second I would’ve found out – but, babe,” you try to calm your beating heart by digging your nails into your palms. It doesn’t work. “Even if I knew, you have to understand. This was over a year ago, I haven’t seen her since, and I love you. We’ve built a home together. Me having sex with her doesn’t change that.”

There’s silence, then, the thick kind that comes from a fight without resolve. You’re worried she’ll storm out, only to return when she decides – or, worse, tell you to pack your things and leave. Wanda does neither of those things, though, instead silently moving to the stir the pot before tasting at the wooden spoon.

You know everything will be fine when she makes a comment about needing more salt – the special kind you bought a long while ago from the farmer’s market that somehow hadn’t run out. Your mother once told you that the kitchen could end all disagreements, all squabbles and verbal throwdowns. You never really believed you until now, as you both silently cook, and then eat, and then clean up together.

Not a word is exchanged until you’re both in bed, you curled around her on your side as she lays flat on her back. It’s then, after the sun has long set and the last scents of food had gone up though the vents, that one of you speaks.

Wanda swallows, mumbling something that, whether or not is her intention, only she can hear. “Natasha says she wants to see you.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowed as you pick up your head to look at her. “What?”

Wanda doesn’t meet your gaze as she speaks. “I talked to Natasha this morning about it. About you. That’s why, uh. I came home like that. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just…wanted to talk about it…”

You nudge closer to her as she trails off, trying to reassure her. “It’s okay, babe, you don’t have…I trust you. It’s okay.”

Wanda nods before continuing. “She and I were talking, and she asked to see you after. Wanted my permission, though. Wanted to make sure I was okay with it.”

“Are you?” you whisper as your heart rate picks back up – though, this time, for a much different reason.urus

She nods. “I mean, I’m not some overprotective Dad on prom night – I’m never gonna stop you from seeing someone. Told her it was up to you.”

You exhale deeply, still silent. It takes a long while for you to say anything, and even then it doesn’t do much to dissolve the thick tension in the room. “I do want to see her again,” Wanda clears her throat but you continue speaking before she can begin. “But I want you there, too.”

That’s how, two weeks later, you find yourself intoxicated in a way you can’t describe, standing next to your bed as both women kneel before you.

You’re not drunk. Drunk is too extreme. Drunk makes you seem rash, impulsive – like you don’t know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it. Makes it seems like you don’t want to remember this, want to be able to blame all

You’re not drunk, you’re bold. You’re two sips into some old-as-balls bourbon you got when you graduated college – gifted to you by a professor who thought it meant he’d let you get into his pants. Fool. You’re a woman with fire resting on your skin and the world teetering at your fingertips.  You control everything. And today, “everything” is defined as two of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen on their knees in front you.

It’s natural, wonderful – the feeling of looking down at them with their big eyes and hair pulled back into French braids and dark collars on their milky skin. Neither of them has leashes – yet…but judging by the glint in Natasha’s eyes and the smirk playing at her lips that you’ll need to get it from its resting place on her desk very soon.

“I think this is the stuff dreams are made of,” you say to no one and both of them. “Two sluts at my feet for me to use. Two perfect little toys at my disposable. I wonder what I should have you do first…”

At the foot of the best is a loveseat, draped upon the loveseat is a towel covered in sex toys – placed carefully with even amounts of space between them. A few empty spots mark where toys used to be – most notably the collars and the baby pink butt plug Wanda’s wearing.

It’s the double-ended dildo that ends up catching your eye. It’s half baby blue and half black, mixing in the middle; thick, long, girthy. Wanda bought it for you awhile back – a gift after she had to leave for a last-minute business trip with little explanation but a lot of apology. You didn’t mind, her explanation for her job had been quite believable and you did not worry. Still, you didn’t refuse the gifts she showered you with when she got back eight days later.

You smile at the memory, but also from the anticipation. You turn back to the two women on the floor, snapping in each of their faces before pointing to opposite walls. Despite this, they wait for your verbal command before moving a muscle.

Such good girls, the both of them.

“Now,” you tell them calmly. Obediently and without hesitation, they do as they’re told. It’s then that you can admire their matching lingerie sets. They were expensive (you hesitate to spend that much on rent, let alone four pieces of skimpy, see-through fabric), you can’t deny it. But the crotchless panties, framing each of their wet pussies perfectly? The matching bras are just as frilly as the panties and the deep maroon contrasts both of their pale skin tones.  Intricate lace is almost, almost distracting from their pert nipples and skin you want to bite and bruise and mark. “Face opposite walls so I can watch you fuck yourself properly.”

They’re both so beautiful, so desperate. Through the chorus of their moans and whimpers you can hear their wet cunts fucking back on the thick double-ended dildo.

Wanda, as usual, is already making those noises that mean she’s about to come – her hips making tighter movements and wide eyes screwed shut.

“Aw, does my baby wanna come?” you coo, moving the sweaty hair away from her reddened face.

Wanda whines high in her throat, fucking back on the dildo with vigor. “Yes, yes yes please lemme come I wanna come Mommy please!”

Natasha, the quieter of the two, nods furiously as her face scrunches up in concentration. Her moans are low and breathy, hips driving backwards in target hits against Wanda.

Part of you wants to deny them, watch them with cry and choke on their own tears as they focus on following orders, on being good, on not coming. Another part of you wants to watch them fall apart, watch their thighs shake and legs give out and blissful faces find their way long their faces and listen to them moan and cry and thank you with hushed, raspy voices.

It doesn’t take much deliberating for the latter side of you to win out – to give them permission and instruct them to rub their clits as you take another sip of alcohol. Small sparks dance along Wanda’s fingers as they move over her pussy, control over her powers ceding to that over her pleasure. Some of the small swirls of red-orange-yellow-blue seem to dance between their bodies, affecting Natasha as well, who cries out an especially pained noise as each spark touches and subsequently dissipates against her skin. The thrusts of their hips become even more erratic as the waves of their orgasms come crashing down on them, their breathing only steadying as you began to speak once more.

“Natasha,” you snap once in her direction, waiting for her body to jerk as a signal she’s paying attention. “Get atop Wanda…” you pause, then laugh. “I mean, straddle her to keep her hips pined to the ground.”

Wanda, normally incredibly mousy, seems to be drinking from the same fire-filled cup you’ve been sipping.

“Yeah, as if Natasha could top anybody,” she snorts. You and Natasha both snap your heads towards her, yours crooking to the side.

“You want to say that again?” you more command than ask.

Wanda, voice back to usual smallness, swallows loudly. “Uh, I, uh. I said. I said Natasha,” she coughs, tries to save herself. It doesn’t work. “I said, ‘as if Natasha could dom anybody,’ Mommy.”

Silence – a heavy one – falls over the room. You turn around, slowly, meeting Wanda’s eyes first and then Natasha’s. The latter woman looks to you for permission.

With one, small nod, she stands and looms over the other woman.

“You’re going to regret that,” you say – mostly to yourself. The wicked smile, though, is for the both of them.

“Do you want to test me?” Natasha hisses. She loops her forefinger in the stainless-steel O-ring and jerks Wanda forward so their lips are barely touching. Wanda takes it as an invitation, but pouts as Natasha pulls away. “You think you’re getting anything but a punishment after what you pulled?”

Wanda’s large eyes drain of mischief with every passing second that she studies the woman in front of her – realizing her mistake. It’s not long until she’s looking at her for assistance from you, her pleading eyes and cat-like features so cute you almost give in to her silent prayers.

Keyword: almost.

“Answer your Daddy,” you say plainly. You press your thighs together, desperate for friction but not wanting to give in just yet.

“N-no,” Wanda stutters. “No, Daddy.”

Natasha pulls at Wanda’s collar once more, hissing through her teeth. “I’ll give you one more chance to correct yourself.”

You can practically hear Wanda’s petrified gulp and you relish the fear in her wide eyes. “No, Daddy. I understand I deserve a punishment.”

“Good,” she says, letting the collar go. “now go lay on the bed.”

Wanda does as she’s told – resting her head in your lap. It gives you the perfect view of her face as she prepares to get fucked out of her mind.

Natasha grabs the fake cock and harness from the toy collection and pulls it on easily, the jingling of the individual straps like music to her hears. You pet at her hair, cupping her chin and cooing down at her.

“You gonna be a good girl for Daddy?” you ask.

She nods, lip pulled between her teeth. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Are you gonna be a dirty slut for Daddy while Mommy watches?”

“Yes Mommy.”

Natasha’s ready, then, and announces it by backing up against a wall with the fake cock bobbing against her stomach. “Good girl, now come prep Daddy’s cock.”

Wanda moves to stand, but immediately drops to her knees when Natasha glares at her and hisses, “Don’t you dare.”

She crawls across the room, head hung in shame and pussy soaked with anticipation. Wanda only looks up to wrap her lips around the silicon head, one of Natasha’s hands cradling the back of her neck with the other tangled in her hair. “I’m going to have so much fun with you,” you hear Natasha mumble as Wanda gags for the first time. “Can’t wait to make you come over and over, watch you not know whether to beg me to stop or keeping going. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Wanda nods, never breaking eye contact with Natasha.  

“You better not be touching yourself, you needy little thing,” you tsk from across the room as your fingers rub at your own clit. “Dirty sluts don’t get to come, do they.”

Wanda does her best to shake her head as Natasha continues to fuck her throat.

Sloppy, wet sounds punctuate Natasha’s words. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl? You like taking this big cock down your throat like this?”

Before Wanda can nod, Natasha’s pulling her head away suddenly, the woman on the floor gasping for air. She barely has time to catch her breath before Natasha’s picking her up and slamming her back against the wall, Wanda’s legs instinctively wrapping around Natasha’s waist.

Wanda moans, loud and unabashed, as Natasha fucks into her. You grab an unused vibrator from the end of the bed and begin to fuck yourself with it, the thrusts of the toy timed with Natasha’s. It’s good – it’s all so good – and your vision begins to cloud around the edges as you and Wanda both come together one, two times.

You’re breathing heavy when Natasha decides Wanda’s had enough, laughing as Wanda’s eyes remain unfocused and her breath comes out in pants.

“Pathetic,” Natasha mumbles just loud enough for you to hear. She lets go of Wanda’s hips, the woman collapsing onto the floor with weak knees. Still, that harsh exterior melts away as Wanda lays there, motionless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Natasha crouches down, then sits next to her, face softening. “Aw,” she coos, pulling Wanda into her so that she’s sitting on Natasha’s lap on the floor. “Such a good little girl for me. For us.”

Natasha rocks Wanda back and forth, giving her the occasional kiss to her temple or cheek or wherever else she can reach. You watch them for a minute or two, watch your two favorite people in the whole world mold themselves to each other, oblivious to whatever happened to go on around them. Eventually you go to the bathroom to dampen a cloth with warm water and get a glass of water (or, in this case, a mug you’d been meaning to take back to the kitchen for about a week. It only held water before, anyway, so you don’t feel that bad when you give it to Natasha to hold for your exhausted girlfriend to drink out of).

Wanda whimpers when you wipe down her pussy, flinching away and trapping your hand between her thighs. Before you can comfort her, though, Natasha does.

“Shh libchen,” she coos into her sweaty hairline. “Let Daddy care for you alright?”

Wanda makes a noise high in her throat to signal how much she really doesn’t want the terry cloth against her center, but nonetheless allows Natasha to hold her thighs open as you clean her up. It’s awhile before Wanda full returns to reality – awhile before her breathing goes back to normal, her pupils becoming smaller, her legs not shaking.

“You wanna go to bed or get something to eat?” you ask.

Wanda doesn’t respond, but her droopy eyes and limp body answer the question for you.

“Let’s put her to bed and order food in few hours,” you tell Natasha. “The diner down the street is 24-hour, menu’s on the fridge. One of us can call later.”

Natasha whispers an “okay,” careful not to wake Wanda. She lifts the sleeping woman into the bed you share with her, watching her for a moment before beckoning you over. You oblige, because of course you do. Noiselessly, you and Natasha lay on either side of Wanda, your hands touching ever so lightly as fatigue acts as a fire blanket – putting the previous actions of the night to rest.

You all fall asleep like that, sweaty limbs tangled and chests heaving in sync. In truth, you never could’ve asked for anything better – this, being with the both of them, is bliss. Hopefully, you never have to be without either of them ever again.

[jemej3m]

date number two: bodies in the forest

in which things go pear-shaped, our boys learn a few things and punch a few people: also, Neil meets Nicky. 

*

“Yoohoo!” Allison’s repeated knocking on Neil’s front door was driving him positively insane. “Neeeeeeeeil. Neeeeeil. Let me in, pretty-boy!” 

He was rolling the sleeves of his dress-shirt up as he stalked over to the front door to answer it, a scowl across his face. She was grinning when he yanked it open, her expression immediately turning inquisitive at his attire. 

“You are relentless,” he grumbled, stepping aside. She sauntered past, leaving a trail of stiletto heel dents in the carpet and french perfume. Her curls bounced as she walked, immaculate as always. 

She bee-lined for the bedrooom, where there were no bugs hidden. When she turned around to face him, her arms were crossed with one eyebrow raised. “So you’re going to see him again?”

Neil fiddled with his sleeves, his collar. It brought heat to his skin when he thought about it. He was just - curious. He wanted to know all there was to Andrew and couldn’t figure out why. He shrugged. “I asked if he’d like to grab drinks. He said sure and recommended somewhere called Eden’s. I don’t think it’s a proper date -” 

“Ha!” Allison crowed. “Nicky’s going to be ecstatic! He knew setting the two of you up would be perfect: you’re a perfect pair of tiny, brooding assholes.”

“Mmhm.”

“Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Neil looked down at himself. “Yes?”

“Jesus Christ,” Allison complained, loudly, pinching his shirt between two glittery nail extensions and dragging him into his own room. “You’re a disaster, you know that, right?” 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, looking with disdain at the clothes she threw onto the bed, which included a black wife-beater and a mesh top to go over it. It was January - he was going to freeze to death. 

“Is he picking you up from here?” she inquired, rifling through his boxers. Neil sighed: it’d been so long since Lola’s protege had appeared at their doorstep that being embarrassed around Allison just wasn’t a thing anymore. 

This is Allison, Nathaniel, his father had said, a broad hand on Allison’s shoulder. Her parents sold her to us. To you. She will be your Lola. 

They’d been merely teenagers, bitter and afraid. Silently, in the confines of Neil’s childhood room, they had locked pinky fingers and vowed to take his father down, once and for all. Neil had immediately let himself be comforted by her grey eyes, tumultuous storms rather than simple irises. 

“I’m not stupid,” Neil retorted. “You’re the only one who knows where I live,” 

“Other than dearest Daddy,” she muttered. She could only speak like this within his room, where they were sure that his father hadn’t hidden any microphones. Nathan claimed it was to ensure that anyone who attacked Neil could be caught but Neil wasn’t stupid enough to assume that his father trusted him. 

“I’m picking him up,” Neil mumbled, tugging on the jeans she’d thrown at him. “Are you sure about this outfit? It seems a bit -”

“You’re going to Eden’s on a Thursday night, you idiot,” she laughed. “It’s a gay club on Thursdays. You’ll fit in great.” 

Neil did not like the way she winked. 

His phone buzzed. He fished it out, almost flinging it across the room in his hastiness. Allison snorted, mumbling “Eager.” Neil wasn’t eager. He’d just - he was simply curious. About Andrew. About the cotton armbands, hidden under his dress shirt. The shadowed eyes. He seemed dangerous, but also impeccably well controlled. 

pick me up from this address instead. don’t knock on the door.  

The address was for somewhere in the easterly suburbs, a little closer to the club than Andrew’s apartment had been. Neil shoved his keys and wallet and phone into his pockets, letting Allison fiddle with his hair. 

“Enjoy yourself!” she called out, getting into her pink porsche. “Don’t kill anyone!” He rolled his eyes and clambered into his car, careening out of the garage.

The house was small and quaint. Two cars were parked in the driveway, one under the awning and another rather haphazardly, nearly scraping the gate. The second was obviously more expensive, and Neil thought he might have recognised it from their first date. 

Date. Fucking hell, Neil was on a second date. With a man. His father would kill him. His father would strip his skin from his body and hang it from a flag mast for everyone to see. A gay son couldn’t carry on the Wesninski legacy. Neil was a disgrace enough already.

He wasn’t even gay. He just found Andrew intriguing. 

He waited for five minutes outside, then texted Andrew to let him know that he was here. When another five minutes had passed without an answer, he climbed out of the car, checked the address was right, and carefully walked up the pathway. 

He knocked on the door twice: before his knuckles could land a third time, the door was wrenched open, revealing a lithe man with brown features and a wild-eyed smile.  

“Neil!” he crowed. “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“Nicky, for fuck’s sake,” Neil heard Andrew grumble from somewhere out of sight. Neil snorted under his breath, shaking Nicky’s hand. 

“Allison and I are the best match-makers,” Nicky sung, falling back into his house and pulling Neil across the premise. In the kitchen was another blonde man, considerably taller than Andrew and wearing a genuine smile. “Neil, this is Erik, my husband. Erik, this is Neil! You remember Allison, don’t you, honey? They’re good friends!”

Nicky was...a lot. Weakly, Neil asked. “How do you know Allison, again?”

“How could I not!” Nicky laughed. “We were in the same marketing classes in college. I told her that her Gucci sweatpants were trashy - because they are - and she didn’t take that too well. God knows she loves her brands.”

Neil did know that, probably better than anyone else. 

“Goodness, Allison said you were a cutie, but I had no clue how right she was!” Nicky pinched his cheek, and noticed the side-long glance Neil sent to Erik. He winked. “I’d invite you to have fun with Erik and I if I wasn’t sure I’d be scalped by my cousin.” 

“Yet you talk too much regardless,” Andrew said, materialising out of nowhere. 

Neil was suddenly relieved for Allison’s intervention when he saw what Andrew was wearing under his coat. It was a sleeveless shirt, the holes hanging so low that Neil could see his ribs, the cords of muscle that wrapped around his midsection. It was also low at the neckline, both in the front and back. Neil looked away.

Nicky bid them farewell with a cheery wave and a wolf-whistle. Andrew practically dragged Neil out of his cousin’s house, the tips of his ears bright red. 

“I was trying to avoid that,” Andrew muttered. Neil just laughed and gestured towards his car. 

“Shall we?” 

*

Admittedly, the club didn’t seem like the right place for Neil. He didn’t drink - he couldn’t afford to lose his inhibitions - didn’t dance, and it was too loud to talk properly. Whilst people watching was fun and Andrew didn’t seem to mind just hanging out by the wall with a whisky in hand, Neil wished they had somewhere quieter to talk. 

“I haven’t been in somewhere like this in years,” Neil mentioned, leaning closer into Andrew’s shoulder. “I suppose nothing’s really changed.”

“I snuck in here as a kid. Got a fake ID.” Andrew shook his head. “It was not a good way to figure out my sexuality.”

“What - you came here to just - makeout with people?” 

Andrew arched an eyebrow, still looking out over the swarm of writhing bodies. “You never did anything like that?”

“No,” Neil murmured, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I didn’t realise that was the normal thing.” 

Andrew looked at him for a moment before knocking back his whisky and chucking the glass onto a nearby table: a finger in Neil’s belt loop tugged him away from the wall and then they were moving. Past the bar, the dance floor, the music booth, right for the doors. Neil tried to protest - Andrew had paid for both of their admission tickets - but the man was having none of it, Neil stumbling along behind him as he walked. 

When they were outside, Andrew leant Neil against the brick exterior, facing him with his ankles crossed. 

“I’ve never really done anything like this before,” Neil confessed. “I don’t - I don’t know what’s expected of me.”

“Nothing is,” Andrew insisted. “Nothing you don’t want to do.”

Neil made a vague gesture with his hand. “I’ve been set up before, by Allison or my -” he cleared his throat. “I’ve never asked someone out twice. I suppose I don’t really get it.”

“Do you swing at all?” Andrew inquired. 

Neil shrugged, looking away. He supposed this would be where Andrew decided Neil wasn’t worth his time anymore, if Neil wasn’t really sure about sex or anything remotely intimate - 

Andrew forced Neil to look at him with two fingers under his chin. “Neil, I’m not here to do something you don’t want to do.”

“What’s the point in sticking around, then?” Neil managed. 

Andrew shrugged, dropping his hand. From his pockets he drew out a carton and lighter. Neil let him light two, accepting the second and holding it to the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you’re interesting.” 

Neil hummed quietly. He could understand that. Andrew was interesting too. 

He realised he liked this: the quiet. Smoking together outside a club, the two of them in their own bubble. This side of the building was dark, courtesy of the wooded parklands that came right up to the club’s westerly wall.

Maybe it was a bad idea. Getting involved with someone who was outside of his circle of work was never a good idea. If Andrew figured out that Neil was the Butcher’s son, he didn’t think that the man’s curiosity would be as forgiving. No one in their right mind would date a gangster’s - a serial killer’s - son, not unless they were already involved in Neil’s world. 

“Would you look at that,” came a soft voice from above. “Daddy wouldn’t be too happy if he knew where you were, Junior.” Neil had a knife in his hand before he’d even blinked, pointing it at where the shadow had dropped down into a crouch, just a few feet away. “Would he, now?”

She hadn’t even bothered to obscure her face. Leverett was so sure she was going to kill him that she wasn’t worried about her identity. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, fingers twisting in the loose material of Andrew’s shirt. Then he realised Andrew also had a knife in his hand, perfectly balanced and hidden out of sight. Where the hell was he hiding those? Everything he wore was impeccably tight, far too tight to conceal knives. “Well? Get on with it, then.” He felt Andrew’s gaze boring into him, sharp and incredulous.

Her smile faltered, eyes twitching to the left, where someone was probably hidden around the corner. “No pleas for mercy? No last words?”

Neil shrugged. “Learn to stop revealing your plans?” With that he turned and socked the man who emerged right between his eyebrows. It gave them a window, so he dragged Andrew by the hand - if their fingers were intertwined that wasn’t Neil’s problem - and disappeared into the parklands. 

He’d probably been around here before. There weren’t too many places to hide bodies in Baltimore: every time he tripped over a log he wondered if his father had ever left his dead nearby. 

“I think we’ve lost them,” Andrew managed, looking around. Neil just shook his head. “You’re rather idiotic, aren’t you?”

That wasn’t the first time Neil had heard that. “We can’t stop here. We’re only safe when they’re dead.”

“Neil,” Andrew said, lowly. “If you kill them, I’ll have to bring you in.”

Nei blinked, slowly turning around. It was pitch-black, but even then, his eyes were golden. Shimmering. Dead fucking serious. “You’re kidding me.”

"What?”

“Are you a cop?” 

Andrew sighed. “Maybe. Are you a criminal?” 

“If I say yes are you going to lock me up?”

Andrew shrugged. “The worst I’ve seen you do is punch someone in the face. And rightly so.”

You have no idea, Neil wondered, aghast. How had he not noticed? Why hadn’t he done his proper research? This was insane. This was insane. Neil couldn’t date a cop. His father was one of the most highly sought after gang leaders in the Baltimore region! “Fuck,” he whispered, fingertips to his lips. 

“Look,” Andrew said. “I’m not going to ask why there are people chasing after you, who your father is, why the hell you had a cleaver in the compartment of your door, but - we could help each other.”

“What do you mean?” Neil managed, voice strangled. When the fuck had he seen the cleaver?

“You could be my informant, and I can -” Andrew grimaced. “Owe you, I suppose.”

“I don’t want to be an informant,” Neil hissed. “I want - I don’t know. I don’t know. I want to get to know you and also really don’t want you to die right now. But I can’t date a cop. I don’t want to lie to you. I lie to everyone else in my life. I don’t want this to be the same.”

Andrew’s hand rose up to cup his cheek. “Who are you, Neil?” 

A twig snapped nearby: both of them whirled around immediately, bracing themselves.

“Neil?” Leverett laughed dismissively, materialising from the shadows. Neil cursed. They should have never stopped running. “Is that who he told you he was?”

Andrew pulled a knife on her. “Leave.” 

She laughed, but it was cut off with a sharp punch to her throat. Neil blinked: one moment Andrew had been beside him, and the next he had a fistful of Leverett’s hair, her throat constricted by his grip. 

“If you touch him, I will make sure that you never see the light of day again.” She made a gurgling noise. “Do you understand?” When she didn’t respond, he shook her. “I asked: do you understand?”

She nodded weakly. Disgusted, he let her go. She was gone within seconds. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Neil reached out to unwind Andrew’s fist where it was wrapped around the handle of his knife. Their noses brushed as Andrew stepped into Neil’s space. 

“She will be dead by the end of the week,” Neil whispered. “I have no control over that. I have no control over the family I was born into. I’m -”

“Apologise and I’ll gouge your tongue out,” Andrew muttered, sliding the knife back into his armbands. They had to hold sheaths, Neil realised, vaguely impressed. 

He sighed. “Maybe let’s just go see a movie, next time.” 

Andrew arched an eyebrow. “The Godfather?”

Neil looked at him, dubious. The corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Drive me home,” Andrew said, taking Neil’s wrist. 

Neil just nodded.

*

uhhh 

to be continued? yes, definitely tbc.

(also thank you all for your anons omg so many prompts and so much love I LOVE YALL TOO)

[vannahfanfics]

Little Drummer Boy

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Nejiro Hado

Requested By: Triton0501 (FanFiction) 

"Congratulations on your victory, Nejire!" 

"Kyaaa! Nejire-senpai, you looked so beautiful during the pageant!" 

"Look! Look! It's Nejire Hado! Isn't she so pretty?" 

Nejire tried not to let her ego inflate after several days of hearing nothing but compliments and squeals wherever she walked. Alas, it was difficult not to feel at least a little pleased with so much positive attention! With a serene smile gracing her face and her chin primly raised, Nejire basked in the praise as she strolled through the halls of U.A. High School. As usual, Mirio and Tamaki accompanied her. Typically, the three hero hopefuls would retire to their dormitory or take to the town, but this day was a bit of a deviation. The three of them were headed to Class 1-A's dormitory to visit the rescued orphan, Eri. 

Normally Mirio would jaunt off to visit the girl by himself, but as of late, Nejire had been accompanying him as well. Being such a young and impressionable lady, Eri deserved a female role model whom she could approach for issues she may not be comfortable discussing with Mr. Aizawa, Izuku Midoriya, or Mirio. Though still a long way from her turbulent teens, a little girl Eri's age still possessed a plethora of girls' issues, like crushes and identity and the pros and cons of princesses, that Nejire was more equipped to handle. The boys were at least very willing to dress up in pink tutus and cram around Eri's tiny tea table for a bit of play-pretend. Nejire's mind soon became absorbed by the adorable little girl, and she quite forgot about all the big hullabaloo until Tamaki spoke. 

"E-everyone seems quite taken with you ever since the pageant," he said with that quivering frown that Nejire found charmingly adorable. She laughed daintily and flipped her periwinkle hair over a shoulder. 

"Yes, it's quite lovely! Though, I do wish they would show as much appreciation for the other contestants. I won, but everyone is deserving of praise!" she smiled radiantly. Nejire wanted to avoid all the compliments from rushing to her head, of course, but that didn't mean her statement was fluff. All those who participated were brave for putting themselves out there. Thus, she made a point to say so every once in a while just to remind people. 

"Yep, yep. Very true," Mirio quipped as he scrolled through his social media feed. The blonde's favorite pastime was brushing up on the latest hero news; he and Izuku often spiraled into in-depth, enthusiastic discussions about various articles. Nejire thought it quite endearing. Mirio suddenly stopped walking, frowning at his phone screen. Nejire peeked over his shoulder to blatantly read it, finding that he was texting Mr. Aizawa. 

"Aw! They're gonna be late?" Nejire pouted. She had been very much looking forward to painting Eri's nails, but it seemed Aizawa was hung up in a board meeting. He often took the child with him to his office hours and meetings; she needed a change of environment now and again. She usually sat at his feet, coloring the cat-themed coloring book Denki Kaminari had bought him for a joke. Mirio and Nejire had burst into laughter when they'd learned he'd kept it, for how else could he pass it on to the small girl? 

"Yup," Mirio frowned and closed out of the conversation. Tamaki frowned and began to fidget. 

"Sh-should we go to our dorms and wait for them?"

"Nah," Mirio shrugged and resumed his leisurely pace. "We're nearly there, so we can just bug the first-years until they arrive!"

"Ooh! Ooh! I call Bakugo!" Nejire trilled and lunged forward into a sprint. The volatile boy had caught Nejire's eye when she viewed the playbacks of the first-years' Sports Festival, but her interest had truly been piqued during class 1-A's musical performance at the recent school showcase. Nejire was simply dying to converse with the boy, for he seemed like he would be so much fun to tease and coddle! Oh, she could imagine the blush alighting his scowling face already… 

Teehee! He's such a cutie! I bet he's got that big tough exterior but is a total softie inside! she thought giddily, sticking out the tip of her tongue as she hopped up the steps of the dormitory. She pushed the doorbell buzzer, holding it for a few seconds, before unabashedly throwing the front door open. "Hellooooooo, everyonnnnne~" she sang jubilantly and spun on her foot with a flourish. Twenty pairs of eyes peeked at her from the common room couches. 

"O-oh! Nejire!" Izuku finally squeaked and hopped up from his seat in the armchair. Mirio and Tamaki had finally caught up, and so Izuku's pine green eyebrows crept further up his forehead. "Oh! You're all here! Mr. Aizawa and Eri are hung up in a faculty meeting…" 

"We know!" Nejire smiled as she skipped over to the sofas, clasping her hands behind her back with a gleeful bounce of her body. "We were already here, though, so we thought we would check how our cutie-patooties are doing!" She giggled. Izuku flushed and fiddled with his fingers as he delved into anxious mumbles about training and grades. Mineta leaped from the couch to cling to her thigh, drooling, and Nejire discreetly flung him into the kitchen. No one seemed to react to his pained scream or the sound of several boxes tumbling on top of him. Beaming, Nejire raised her hands to press her fingertips together. "I was so very impressed with the concert you all put on! It was a smash hit!"

"Really? That's awesome!" The adorable little electric boy, Denki, grinned as he draped himself over the back of the couch. He nearly fainted when Nejire patted him cutely on the head. He was as much of a skirt-chaser as Mineta, but at least he had some sense of social etiquette and boundaries. 

"Mhmm!" Nejire nodded as she skirted the coffee table, blue eyes locked on a certain blond ignoring the conversation. With a disinterested frown, the boy tapped his phone screen repeatedly, obviously playing some sort of mobile game. "In fact, I was most impressed by your talented drummer!" She smiled. Katsuki's crimson eyes slowly drifted to her as she perched herself on the arm of the sofa closest to him. Daintily crossing her legs and resting her cheeks in her hands, she fluttered her eyelashes demurely. "I would be oh-so-honored if he could teach me how to play!"

Wearing a concerted frown, Tenya Iida leaned in to whisper in Mirio's ear, "Is she… flirting?"

"Nah. Nejire's just like that," the blonde shrugged nonchalantly. Then, a second later, he narrowed his eyes and frowned. "At least, I don't think she's trying to flirt," he added uncertainly. Katsuki continued to glare silently at Nejire, while she just stared brightly back. 

"Can I help you?" The ash-blond growled gruffly. 

"I said-" 

"I heard what you said, Tinkerbell," Katsuki snarled, dropping his phone into his lap and sitting up to bring his face close to hers. Nejire did not retreat from his boldness, only smiled wider. 

"If you heard me, then why'd you ask?" The corner of his mouth twitched, and she wasn't sure if he wanted to scowl or smirk. His red eyes traveled the planes of her face for a few brief seconds before he snorted seditiously and stood from the couch to start heading for his room. Nejire dourly pursed her lips, thinking him to be annoyed. She raised her eyebrows when he glowered over his shoulder at her. 

"Well? You comin' or not, Tinkerbell?"

Squealing with delight, Nejire hopped down from the couch and scampered after him. Her periwinkle hair swished behind her as she scuttled along, flashing Mirio and Tamaki a victorious wink as she passed them. The other first-years were in various stages of shock as they watched Katsuki lead Nejire upstairs. As she turned the corner of the landing, she heard Mina cry, "Pardon my French, but what the hell just happened?!" followed by Aoyama muttering, "That wasn't French." Nejire snickered and hopped up a few of the steps so that she walked in pace with the explosive blond. He clicked his tongue and glared at her out of his peripheral vision.

"What's that look for?" she inquired innocently.

"Enough of the cutesy act, Tinkerbell. What's your game?" Nejire blinked puzzledly. To be honest, she hadn't thought she would get this far; although flustering had been her initial motive, the new development certainly wasn't unwanted. Nejire loved to try new things, so her pleas to play the drums were honest. 

"There's no game!" she insisted with a serene smile. "I really was impressed by your skills and just want to try it out, that's all." Katsuki stared at her a moment, searching her face for a lie, but of course, he couldn't find one in her pretty visage. With a small tch, he stopped to push open a door with a sign that read, "Keep out or die!" 

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with." Trilling while she bundled past him, Nejire began messing with various things in his room. She found his All Might tee-shirt collection particularly cute. "Oi! Stop snoopin' in my closet and get over here!" He growled. She looked over her shoulder to find him hunched by the drum set in the corner of the room, pink-faced. He seemed equally embarrassed and irate, and it put an adorable little pout on his face. Obediently, Nejire dropped the tee-shirt she had been admiring to skip over. With pink cheeks, he gestured to the small stool seated among the large drums. "Well, go on." 

Nejire plopped down in the seat and picked up the sleek black drumsticks neatly laid over the set. She experimentally clacked them together a few times, remarking their thin yet sturdy structure. She then slammed one down on the cymbals, making Katsuki curse loudly and jump nearly a foot in the air. 

"I've always wanted to do that!" She beamed. The tapped the end of the drumstick lightly on one of the drums. The deep bass tune that followed made her eyes widen in admiration. "This is so cool!" she squealed and wriggled about on the seat. 

"You are remarkably easy to impress," Katsuki remarked with an amused smirk. "But come on, I said I was gonna show you how to play properly, so, shaddup and listen." His voice carried that hard edge that was notably Katsuki Bakugo, but it also possessed a soft undertone that hadn't been present before. Patiently, he instructed her through a simple beat, explaining to her when to push the pedals or strike the drums. She stumbled a few times, and though Katsuki would click his tongue and chastise her, it wasn't without a degree of amusement and affection. After some time, Nejire was able to play the tune with no guidance. She grinned animatedly as she drummed the sticks across the set to produce a joyful, energetic sound, finishing it off with a strike of the cymbals. 

"Ahaha! Look at me!" She squealed. Katsuki leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed and smirking warmly. She whirled in the chair to smile brightly at him. "Thank you! It was enjoyable!" A pink haze rose to his cheeks, and he scratched at the stubby hairs at the base of his neck. 

"Not like I had much choice. You woulda relentlessly nagged me about it." The words seemed harsh, but the delivery cushioned the angry connotation with soft fondness. A smile tugged upwards on the corners of Katsuki's lips. I think he really enjoyed this too! she thought giddily and hopped up from the chair. 

"Yup! I sure would have." 

"Pushy, aren't'cha, Tinkerbell?" She smiled and pushed one of her cheeks inward with her index finger. 

"Yep! That's me, Little Drummer Boy!" Katsuki bristled at the ad-libbed nickname.

"Oi! Who're you callin' 'little'?" Nejire ignored his fuming to resume poking around his room, poring over his surprisingly articulate class notes and flipping through the channels on his radio-slash-alarm clock. Katsuki followed her around the room, scowling and loudly chastising her, but he made no physical move to stop her. It was only when she wriggled into one of his hoodies that he actually questioned her. "I showed you the drums, so why're you still here?" He whined while tugging on the hood of the jacket in an attempt to tease it off her shoulders. Nejire slid her arms out of it and darted to his desk, picking up a pencil and putting it atop her pursed lips like a mustache. 

"I'm trying to kill the boredom waiting for Eri, and you're very entertaining!" she explained while twisting the end of the pencil like a cheesy comic book villain. Katsuki scowled and plopped down on the edge of his bed. 

"Oh, that's nice. So I'm Tinkerbell's little toy, huh?" Nejire blinked and let the pencil fall to the floor, surprised by his tone of loathing and hurt. 

"No, of course not! You're my friend, right?" He stared up at her, taken aback. Nejire beamed and skipped over to throw herself down on the bed beside him. She laid on her stomach with her heels kicked up over her back. She plucked at some of the fuzzy fibers on his comforter. "I like you!" The bold and unabashed statement made his cheeks flush red. "I think you're interesting, so I want to get to know you. The perfect opportunity has presented itself, that's all." She rolled onto her side, holding up her head with a hand. "Teasing you is just part of the fun! <3"

"You're a diabolical woman," Katsuki snorted, but Nejire was relieved to see that the tension had melted from his shoulders, and that snarky smile was back on his face. The blue-haired girl giggled and stuck out her tongue playfully. She then whined loudly when he pinched the end of it between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Nnnh! Nnh! Le' go, Ka'suki! T'at feelth weird!" she protested, shaking her head back and forth a little. Katsuki laughed loudly and tugged on the pink organ.

"Ha! Not so fun when the tables are turned on you, huh?" he chided playfully. Nejire slapped at his biceps and shoulder with another keening whine. After another tug, he released her. She wiped away the drool that had pooled in the corner of her mouth. 

"You big meanie!"

"I'm only givin' ya a taste of your own medicine, Tinkerbell!" he shot back, grinning challengingly. His cry was muffled when Nejire grabbed his pillow and whacked him in the face with it. Hurriedly, she tried to scramble from the bed and flee, but he yanked her back by her ankle and made her belly-flop to the floor. She giggled piercingly when he lobbed the pillow at the back of her head. "You're a handful! How do those two put up with you?" 

"They find me charming and endearing!" She answered as she hugged the pillow and rolled onto her belly. Katsuki rolled his eyes and lounged back against his headboard with his hands behind his head, ignoring the sheets Nejire had tousled in her escape attempt. 

"You're like a toddler." 

"You're still putting up with me, though!" A blush rose to his cheeks, and he chittered his teeth, gaze sliding away from her. Still snuggling the pillow, Nejire jumped up and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "I betcha Eri and Mr. Aizawa are here now!" She said and unceremoniously tossed the pillow at Katsuki. He caught it with a surprised look. "Can I come back again to learn more about the drums, Little Drummer Boy?"

"Uh, sure, but-" he began as she ran to his bedroom door to throw it open. She paused when he shouted at her to wait. Blinking, she stood in the threshold. He tossed the pillow aside and crawled off the bed to walk towards her. He hesitated for a moment, grimacing, before he reached up to gently tuck a piece of her periwinkle hair behind her ear. "... See ya around, Tinkerbell," he muttered in a small voice. His face burned red as he trained his gaze on his sneakers. 

"Teehee! See ya later!" she smiled and, on a whim, leaned in to peck him on the cheek. He sputtered a surprised obscenity and jerked back, pinwheeling his arms. He lost his balance and landed on his rump. His face burned the crimson color of his eyes, and he held his palm to the cheek she had kissed. "Toodles~" Nejire trilled jovially and flashed him a wink before skipping off down the hall. She hummed contentedly as she jaunted down the stairs; she was quite pleased with the way everything had turned out. Now, however, she was switching gears to big sister mode. She had come here to play with Eri, after all! 

Still, she thought with a coy smile and a glance up the steps, I definitely wouldn't mind coming back to see Bakugo again sometime soon! I knew he was a big ol' softie! 

She retrieved the bottle of nail polish she had tucked into her uniform pocket just as she rounded the stairs to see Eri running up to Izuku and Mirio. But first, very important business to attend to!

Sorry, Little Drummer Boy! You'll have to wait your turn!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​  @simplybakugou​ @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​

[talesmaniac89]

Choices Sam Ending - 6

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: Dark, curses, heartbreak, loss, violence, angst, mental torment, fear of abandonment, loneliness.

Choice: [You chose to kill the witch]

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

---

Feeling the anger flood your body, searing your veins with white hot rage, you clenched your jaw and lined up your gun with her wide blue eyes. Fuck. The witch killing bullets were just too easy. You wanted to hurt her. Really hurt her. Not just a bullet. That was too quick, too painless. After the torment she was putting Sam through, she deserved to get back tenfold what she’d given. 

Taking a step forward you still kept your gun pointed at her. Using the threat of steel to keep those painted lips shut in case she thought she could slip in a quick spell and send you flying across the room. But as your boot connected with the carpet again, she clearly chose to increase her own future load of pain instead. A manicured hand reaching out to where Sam was standing lost and frozen. 

The French tipped talons weren’t touching him. No… But they were proof that she was close enough to do so. To harm him, if she wanted to.

“No no no… Don’t come too close now. You don’t want him hurt do you?” The pain in your eyes betrayed you, and helped the witch find her voice again. Once more believing she had the upper hand. That she could win against the bullets in the chamber and the anger in your blazing eyes. 

“What did you do to him? Fix it,” You could hear your voice trembling. Hear the raw, rough sound of agony they twisted into, as the broken pieces of your heart cut up the words before you spat them at her. 

Yet, you couldn’t make yourself care. All that mattered was Sam. So, what if one stupid reject from an Audrey Hepburn lookalike competition thought you were weak? She was going to die, and you, you were her executioner. Whether she knew it or not. 

Yet, apparently the witch only found weakness in your shattered voice, not the rage simmering below. Her own ego and misplaced feelings of victory only grew as she barked a laugh at you. Staying just within reach of Sam, she kept her blue eyes on him as she spoke, obviously still not brave enough to look down the barrel of your revolver.

“Lover boy here... He’s trapped in his own head. Can’t see a thing...” The witch in front of you drawled the words. Just echoing what she’d already told you. Like she had all the time in the world, like her death wasn’t just a small squeeze of a single trigger finger away. Hiding in the shadows between your broken heartbeats.

“You already said that. Get to the fucking point,” You took another heavy step forward as you laced your words in endless promises of hurt past anything the witch could ever imagine. The demand left your clenched jaw as more of a growl than actual words. 

She somehow managed to keep her back straight, but you could see her attempt at false bravado slipping at the silent threats radiating off you and wrapping like tendrils around her neck. Making her next words shaky and slightly breathless before she found her power again.

“It’s… Uhm… The spell, it’s old. Ancient. In his head he’s here. Or, he was here. But all other life is gone. A world without monsters… No people either for that matter. His own little playground. Doesn’t that sound nice?” By the end of her agonising monologue your roles were once again reversed, her voice stronger where yours were just a pained gasp for air.

“No. It doesn’t,” 

Sam… The same man who feared rejection and loneliness more than anything was all alone. Oh God. Did he think you left him? Was he wandering somewhere in there, lost? Thinking you’d just watched him walk in to deal with the fucking witches all alone and then turned on your heel to run away from him? Leaving him to fight the monsters instead of having his back like you’d always promised you would. Just like how his father handed him a gun instead of wrapping him up in a hug when he spoke of monsters in his closet as a child. Did he think you were just another back turned away from him?

“Well… Either way… It might be nice to some, for the first little while. But...” The damned witch wasn’t giving you time to spiral into the dark depth of your anguish. Speaking up from the darkness that had momentarily clouded your vision and violently pulling you out of it with a voice that sounded like viscous poison to our mind.

“But what,” With the realisation of how much torment the witch had forced on the man you loved, your anger was back, and it was oh so much more than it had been before. Searing rage had blazed, becoming a firestorm. Where there had been dark tendrils of fury chaining her to the spot, they were now the first flames, licking against the witch’s skin and making her flinch.

“I. Asked. You. What?!” Straightening your arms, you made a show of cocking the gun, letting her know exactly what to expect if she didn’t start talking, fast. A contained apocalypse, an explosion, within four white walls as you promised yourself you’d take her down with you. And oh, she could feel it. Threatening to turn that pretty black dress into ash along with her. 

Burn witch, burn.

“But, I mean… He’s… Uhm… It’s been years for him by now,”

“What did you just say?” Your voice betrayed you. Easily extinguishing the fire raging in your chest as your voice broke over the realisation. And though the witch still cowered, she found her voice again in the loss of yours. Signing her own death warrant with words just a little stronger than a cowardly shiver.

“It’s the spell; time works differently in his head. Your boyfriend here, he’s been lost and alone in his own mind for years. All alone. No humans around. Just poor little Sam and the monsters in his closet,”

“Don’t you dare say his name bitch…” Your voice was shaky as you forced your breathing to stay even, to keep the lethal steel pointed at the witch without it trembling along with your body.

Years.

Sam has been stuck in his own mind, lost and alone for years. That realisation alone was enough to turn every last piece of strength left in you into ash as ice replaced fire in your veins. Travelling down the length of your spine and turning your body numb and cold with a pain so unbearable you couldn’t scream, you couldn’t cry, you couldn’t… Breathe (Y/N). You had to breathe, you had to save Sam.

Oh God… Years. 

Sam Winchester, the man with a crippling fear of being abandoned had been deserted in the shadows of his mind for no more than thirty minutes in reality. But to him... To Sam it had been a lifetime of finally seeing all his worst nightmares come true. The one thing he feared more than anything else, yet secretly thought he deserved. In his mind, he was lost & alone. Leaving him thinking that everyone had abandoned him, that he wasn’t good enough.

Yet, he was still looking. Even as your heart shattered into a million small pieces that tore into your lungs and traveled through your veins in an attempt to tear you apart from the inside. Sam was still calling out for Dean. For you. He hadn’t given up. Even in an empty world. He was trying to find his way home. To you.

And that bitch was in the way. She was keeping Sam from finding his way back. Gritting your teeth, you saw red as you took another angry step forward. Fueled by the shattered fragments of your heart and angry acid that was slowly tearing through your veins with echoes of the eternity Sam had spent hurting in the last thirty minutes. 

As you stepped closer, the witch lifted a manicured hand again, reaching out for Sam to stop you in your step. However, this time the threat didn’t end with inches of air between her and him as she let the back of her hand glide against his cheek. Slowly stroking her claws in a mock gesture of care against the clenched and trembling jaw of your lost hunter.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off him,” Clenching your own jaw, you fought the nausea of watching that monster touch Sam. It left a bitter taste in your mouth and a sick, jealous feeling heavy as a ton of bricks in your stomach. You knew you had no right to feel like that. But your body wouldn’t listen to you as something raw and possessive tried to claw its way out of your chest. She wasn’t allowed to touch him. Sam was yours.

As if she could hear your twisted thoughts, heavy in a possessive selfishness that you shouldn’t be feeling, she attempted to laugh at you. But the cowardly attempt at a barked laugh died out in a whine as you stepped forward again with an inhuman growl and raised your gun back up from where it had fallen limply to your side without you noticing.

“Witch killing bullets bitch. Remove your filth from Sam or I’ll do it for you,”

“You wouldn’t…” Her hand was still on Sam’s cheek. Still touching him, a manicured finger tracing the line of his trembling jaw. One French tipped nail against a soft bottom lip teasing a strangled sob from Sam as his clenched jaw loosened. She was touching him, she was torturing him, and it was all too much. Before you even realised what you were doing, you squeezed the trigger.

The bullet exploded from its chamber and straight towards the witch’s skull just as Dean ran into the room.

--- 

You could smell the mix of gunpowder and blood in the air. Taste the copper of your own blood in your mouth from where you’d bitten the inside of your cheek. Somewhere far away you could hear Dean’s voice calling out to you. But nothing really registered. Nothing except for Sam. Standing still and motionless in the middle of the room, the dead witch by his feet. 

You killed her, but Sam… Sam was still lost to you.

Spells normally wore off when you killed the witch that cast them. So why wasn’t it wearing off? Damn it, you should have checked. She did try to warn you and even if you thought it was a lie, you should have checked. 

You should have kept a clear head. But seeing her touch him in such a sickeningly gentle way… Her fingers against lips you’d spent the last year and a half daydreaming about, it had all just been too much when paired with the knowledge of the years passing in Sam’s mind.

Squeezing your eyes shut you swallowed hard as your jaw clenched around the nausea and pain that was sitting heavy in your stomach. You could still hear the gunshot echoing in your ears, feel your finger on the steel of the trigger and the strain of tense arms keeping it raised and pointed at the empty air where the witch had been only moments earlier. Here one second, gone the next… How long did it take to squeeze a trigger? How long had it been since you shot her?  

“(Y/N)! Hey! What’s wrong with Sammy?” As Dean tried to pry the revolver out of your stiff fingers, the warmth of his hand brought you back to reality. The sound of worry and the early warning signs of panic clear in the hunter’s voice as green eyes jumped from your numb and frozen form to his brother’s. 

“I… I thought if I… I don’t know…” You couldn’t find the words. You had to tell Dean. Tell him about what the witch had done to Sam and… Oh god. What you had done to his little brother. 

Sam was stuck and you did that to him. You killed the witch. Even after all your big talk about not abandoning him you’d done something so, so, so much worse. You’d watched as his mind was reshaped into a solitary prison, and then you’d killed the only one who held the key. Crushing his last chance of escape. You did this to him.

You killed her.

Sam wasn’t waking up and she could have fixed it. Maybe she was the only one that could bring him back. There had been other spells before… Spells that couldn’t be ended with a bullet. You knew better. What if Sam was stuck forever? All because you let your rage control you and rearranged her skull, permanently. 

“Sam’s trapped in his head… He can’t see us Dean, he can't see anyone and… Damn it Dean, she said it feels like years to him. Years,” It hurt to push the words out. Not because it made them more real. No, the sight of Sam, lost and alone in front of you already did that. But because you knew your words would hurt Dean too. 

“Alright, so we get Sammy back,” Dean’s voice was trembling, but he didn’t ask any other questions. He wasn’t blaming you. Why wasn’t he blaming you? You just pushed a fuckton of agony his way, and you hurt his family. He should be blaming you. 

“He’s stuck and... Oh god, I’m sorry, I… I did this to him,” You forced the words out through a sob. Needing Dean to understand the guilt on your shoulders. To deal with you like the Winchester’s always did with monsters; a bullet to the brain and a shallow grave somewhere in the woods. But your best friend wouldn’t budge as he gently removed the gun from your hands and wrapped you in a warm hug.

“It’s not your fault (Y/N),” Dean’s voice was a deep familiar rumble. The comfort of a friend. Comfort you didn’t deserve. He just wasn’t seeing what you were yet. What you’d doomed Sam to. You couldn’t let him comfort you, you couldn’t stain him like that.

“Yes it is! What if she could have brought him back? And I killed her?” You pushed against Dean’s arms, stepping away from him and closer to Sam. Though you didn’t deserve to be near him either. Your tattered and broken heart was barely hanging on to his sleeve by its seams. Still you needed to be close to him. To know he was still alive, if a bit lost on his way home to you.

“No. We’ll find an answer. We’ll look for their spell books and…” 

You cut Dean’s words off with a broken sob shaped like a barked laugh. Bitter tears stinging your eyes and clogging your throat as you forced the words out. Another burden of blame on your shoulders. 

“I burned their books…” The flames licking against brittle spines that had tasted like victory only 45 minutes earlier now burned like defeat as you forced yourself to swallow down the sour words in your mouth. Defeatist words. You’d destroyed not one, but two ways to save Sam with your own hands. Hands that had been supposed to build him a home. Not tear down the small place he’d already made himself in the cruel world you were living in. 

“We will get him back (Y/L/N). There’s other witches. Maybe Rowena…” You blocked out Dean’s voice. You knew he meant them; that they weren’t just empty promises to soothe his best friend. Dean would do anything to save his baby brother. Just like you would. But right then, you couldn’t listen to hope. Not when you were standing numbly in front of Sam, watching him struggle in desperate silence. 

You wanted him to look at you, to see you. To warm up your freezing body with sunshine eyes, unclouded by loneliness and fear. But he was lost in his fortress turned prison, and where you’d been his sentinel you’d now become his prison guard. You needed to make him look at you, but your body wouldn’t listen to you. Your arms stayed limply at your side as you just watched him. Could you even touch him? You had no more right to wipe away those frustrated and heart-breaking tears than that damned witch did.

“I’m so sorry Sam. Oh god… I’m so sorry,” Licking at chapped lips you found your voice again. Seeking forgiveness even though you knew he couldn’t hear you. 

“Hey… It’s not your fault kiddo, alright?” The answer came from behind you, not the man in front of you as Dean tried to absolve you of sins he had no say in lifting from your shoulders. You loved him… He was family. But his little brother was lost, and he was just afraid of losing his best friend too. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Sam, come home to us… Please?” You didn’t answer Dean’s attempt at salvation. You were too far gone in the imagined shadows of Sam’s mind. Walking next to him down empty streets. Searching the abandoned bunker alongside him, though invisible to the man himself as you clung to his shirt sleeve, broken pieces safety-pinned just out of sight of lonely hazel eyes.

“(Y/N)....” Dean’s voice was more insistent now as he tried to shake you out of your numb shock. Out of your own sentencing laced with guilt, shame and decisions you could no longer take back. The older hunter was trying to get you to listen, but you could barely hear him.

“I’m begging you alright? Please… I’ll do anything,” Crossroads deals, other witches, sacrifices. You’d do anything to bring him back. Be it prayers to devils or angels alike. Though you knew, deep down, that Sam wouldn’t want that. Even in his own little personal slice of hell. If you sold your soul to bring him back, that would be the same as abandoning him all over again. Yet, if you had to…

“Hey… (Y/N), we’ll get him back. But you can’t fall apart on me now. We’ll bring him home and we’ll get him back,” A big calloused hand landed on your bare arm, but you shook it off as you stepped closer to Sam instead. You weren’t ready for the real world yet. You couldn’t explode into action and handle this like a hunter. Not just yet. 

“Hey Sam… I’m still here. I… Please come back to us ok? Dean and me, we need you. I need you Sam. I…” Taking a shaky breath you lifted yourself up on the balls of your feet, clutching at the collar of Sam’s flannel shirt. Your desperate pleas dying on your tongue as you let your lips ghost over his unresponsive ones in the faintest whisper of a kiss. 

“I love you Sam Winchester…” But your confession, one you’d promised yourself you’d never speak out loud to anything but your bedroom ceiling, came a little too late. Sam couldn’t hear you. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you kept your lips just a breath away from his, knuckles whitening around the flannel as you tried to use his trembling gasps for air to ground you. Dean was right. You wouldn’t abandon him. If less than an hour felt like years in his mind you couldn’t stand around here and fall to pieces for even another minute, adding to the eternity in his mind. 

“Is anybody there?” Sam’s broken and scared voice flowed across your chapped lips as you forced your eyes back open. Looking into dull eyes clouded by shadows and loss. No, you’d bring back the sunshine in them. You’d be the sharp gust of wind that forced those clouds away. No matter what you had to do. Consequences be damned.

You’d find a way to save him. You had to. Sam was living his worst nightmare and you weren’t going to abandon him now. You’d do anything for him. 

Anything. 

 ---

You reached the end - You got Ending 6: Sam: Lost & Alone - Bad Ending

[Click here to return to the start and try again]

[Alternatively, click here for the full masterlist breaking down each path] Note that choices are named so it may spoil the experience.

---

Please tell me which ending you got in a message, comment, ask or through a reblog. This took a lot of time to make, and I want to hear from you guys, and see if you enjoyed it. That way I’ll know if I should make more as well as know which parts you enjoyed/where I can improve them. 

I already have some ideas for some other ones; an undercover office based one that’s fluff vs. smut… Plus another hunt based one with TFW. But I won’t start them if it doesn’t seem like there’s any demand for them.

You can also tell me which ending you got by clicking here to answer my poll.

---

[diversesocietynaj-blog]

I’m finna break down the starting line-up and 6th man for the colors women utilize on their nails and toes.

THE NAIL-TOE POLISH INFINITY STONES

What it do? It’s been a few years since ya boy been here but I’m back like I never left. Today I’m gonna talk about the colors the womenz use on their nails and toes and break down what that color means. If you reading this, take mental notes, because this can save you from getting involved in a terrible situation. And btw, no, I do not suck toes I just cherish and appreciate a woman that take care of them shits. Now that that’s out the way, let’s get started.

1st. At point Guard, we have the white toes. No matter what your ethnicity is, no matter how bright, dark, pale, or tanned your skin is, white toes is undefeated. When processed and layered correctly, there’s no way white toes will fail you. White toes will have a beat shorty move up a couple ranks when you see them out and about. Me, I’m picky, but I know it’s a lot of savage heathens out there that doesn’t care about a thing. This here is your tesseract from Marvel’s “Captain America,The First Avenger. The first toe infinity gem. This doesn’t mean all white toes are going to be fire. Make sure you fellows check for the knicks and scratches, (and try to do it before she blurts it out) too. Nah boo-boo, you ain’t finna get off just cause you said it out loud before my eyes shifted down to them thangs. I’m finna fire you up in front of everyone so you know not to make this mistake again. When the toes white, you gotta do hourly checks, set some alarms on your phone or something. Keep them in top shape at all times. White toes are usually a great sign, everything is in tact, shorty isn’t crazy, although I was wrong maybe 2 times out of a million, those are still OK numbers, right?

2nd. French tips. Like white toes, I have yet to see any misses with this wave. This wave looks even better when you have one of them jobs that require you to dress business-savvy. Spanish women are undefeated with the French tips. A miss has never been reported. Bro. I was watching the Selena movie, with J-Lo...funny thing, I wasn’t even looking at J-Lo(we know her stance is solidified out here) but her fan-club president Yolanda that killed her (RIP) had the French tips in one scene. Now, Yolanda isn’t someone you’d normally talk about, but the fact that it caught my eye on HER, powerful. That is why this is your power infinity stone. Spanish women will forever hold the belt when it comes to the French tips.

3rd. But before that, RIP KOBE. So, my small forward is going to have to go to matte black. Buuuuut☝🏾, it’s one of them colors you have to pull off correctly. You can’t have matte black the same length of time you would have the white or French tips. It just doesn’t go right with every single thing. For example, casual events requiring y’all to wear dresses, and you have yellow or pink or one of them fluorescent colors, matte black shouldn’t be your choice of color for the nails and tosies B. I’m not saying it’ll look awful, but you can come better than that. That’s going to throw the vibes completely off. Come in here looking like that, I’m gonna have to assume that Lil Peep’s greatest hits is heavy in your rotation (RIP) . Nah, I’m good. How deceiving the matte black can be, this is your mind stone, held by the one and only Loki, the irony!😂

4th, we have our power forward: yellow. This the color for our Nubian queens. But I will say, all ethnicities can pull this off, but In this category the Spanish delegation comes in last. But it’s not a bad last, it looks good on y’all! It’s just that it’s so close to your complexion, it look like y’all got extendos on y’all fingers. Like why you and Lord Voldemort got the same hand size shorty? You out here palming basketballs and shit. I’m good. White women can pull this off for sure but black women crushes the competition for this one. Dark skin or light. Sometimes It can fail the Lightskin complexion cause it’ll put you in the same boat with the Spanish women. But it’s not a complete failure, it’ll still look good. And it’s super dope on darkskin women cause it brings out light on top of the dark chocolate beauty. I do have my worries with the yellow colored warriors though. From my experience, the girl was either sidity or conceited. That’s not fact that’s from my experience, again. Yellow toed girls the type to want to showcase on every single social media platform the same pic over and over again for likes and thirsty folks to comment just making their heads bigger. The look is there but what it means, makes you want to think about the risk you’re about to take. Think long and hard on it Kings. Black women for the win, so it’s only right this is our soul stone.

At the 5, we have teal. Slept on but very dominant!! Teal one of them colors that’s gonna always catch your attention. Definitely held down by the white women, and they crush it every time. It’s more of a summer, beach type wave, but believe me, if it’s December and it’s 6 inches of snow on the ground and the nails and toes teal, I will not be mad at you..not one bit. This isn’t fact but my outlook on it, teal one of them sneaky colors. You don’t think about it but when you see it, you like oooh shit. Makes you think about the girl, right? Who knows what tricks she might have up her sleeve. I’m still doing my studies and research on teal as the days goes by but this one is in the air. I gotta hit a gym or a Starbucks and gather some more data for my lab. Since I have to play the guess game at the moment with this one, by default this is the reality stone.

* I am only allowed 10 GIFs per post and I am out so just know the picture for 6th man is Jamal Crawford and the last stone is the Time stone.*

For our 6th man, off the bench, helping contribute to the cause is orange. Orange, like the first 2 is elite with ANY nationality. Black white Spanish Asian...wait..

*I feel like I have to do this. Asian woman run the whole nail game in general. 9x out of 10 they the ones making sure your nails and toes right, and making sure it’s not a miss in sight! I have never seen an Asian girl with fucked up, chipped, or scratched nails. They shit be flawless! I went to a grade school that was predominantly black and Asian. I remember around that time when girls were trying to get right and doing nails themselves, the Asian girls would come in cruuuuushing shit. 😂😂😂 I HAD to give y’all the special shout-out out, you are appreciated for taking care of the womenz. Back to business.*

I feel like if her nails are orange, it’s an indicator that she is shy, nervous, etc. You gotta watch how you approach them, you just tryna get shorty number and next thing you know she put the supreme vice grip on her purse. The heel cadence is picking up faster and faster. Abort mission bro. If you know like I know, dip! You wasting your time, which is why this is the time stone.

I don’t trust red polish at all. No matter your ethnicity, nationality, religion, political stance.. shit, if you family and come to the reunion with it, I ain’t believing nothing you tell me. But red just got that I’m flirty, I can do bad and not care, I know I’m the shit, I’ll put a knife to your balls while your sleep type vibe. I ain’t with it. It’s overrated also.

Aight yall, that’s it, when you see those colors remember what I said. And remember, in “life goes on” with Lil Baby and Lil Uzi Vert, Gunna said “I like when that white on her toes.” Game over.

And I wish one of y’all would try to say this post racist or anything of that nature. I’ve had black, white, Asian, Spanish and Native American toes twiddling on my lap before you made it to first base. I don’t see color.

IG: Heartbreak_buck

Twitter: najBUCK_

💔💸

[maximoffvizh]

fic: the sun is too bright for me (but your smile is brighter)

he’s imagined how he’ll tell people this story. ‘i grabbed her scarf when it blew out of her hands in the wind’ said in a dreamy voice. absolutely no mention of the vampire reflexes that allowed him to do that | scarletvision au: vision is a vampire trying very hard to pretend to be human for the sake of his new girlfriend. don’t ask him why he doesn’t want her to know

He tugs anxiously at the tight collar of his turtleneck, wondering whether he should drop down to an even lighter shade of blue. Maybe this rich colour is too much of a contrast to his pallor, maybe it shows that his eyes shine a brighter colour than they should, maybe it means that this magical woman will take one look at him and realise that he wears high necklines to hide the two distinct round scars on his neck.

Vision forces himself to step away from his wardrobe, smoothing his sweater down with anxious fingers. She won’t know. She has no reason to suspect that he’s a vampire, that there are bright white marks on his neck showing where the venom flowed into his blood and changed him that late fateful night. He isn’t like those who lean heavily into this part of their identity, dressed all in black with silk-lined capes around their shoulders, haunting the vampire bars and living in apartments filled with expensive furniture and black marble.

He lives as a normal twenty-seven year old, in a cosy apartment decorated in pops of warm yellow, attending night classes for his third degree and holding down a job as a copy-editor. He speaks French, Italian and Sokovian, he knits and crochets and paints, he plays violin and piano and all of those are accomplishments he’s sure anyone who puts their mind to it would have achieved at twenty-seven. It just happens that he was bitten and made into a vampire in the seventies, and has been aging at a snail’s pace ever since. It allows for plenty of time to master the skills of a child prodigy.

He wishes he could check his reflection as he leaves the apartment, but at least it just so happened that her shift today meant she wouldn’t be free until after dusk. No prickle of sunlight will touch his skin, and he intends to treat her at the wine bar and be able to take a walk with her in the moonlight. They can talk about their lives, and he’ll let her do most of the talking - hearing about her life will be far more interesting than telling the lies of his for the hundredth time.

Wanda is waiting outside the bar for him, and he pauses for a moment to admire her, the dark red dress that hugs her figure and her hair tumbling in gentle waves around her shoulders. A black coat skims around her, and she’s examining her nails as he crosses the street and says a soft, “Hi.”

She starts, almost dropping her purse, then smiles, colour flooding her cheeks. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, immediately horrified. Not even thirty seconds into the first date he’s had in almost fifteen years, and he’s messed it up.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, seemingly collecting herself. “It’s impressive, being that silent. How’d you learn that?”

“Master of hide and seek in school,” he lies quickly, and she giggles. It’s better than telling her he’s so silent because he’s a predator and she, with her blushing cheeks and beating heart, is technically prey. ‘I am, biologically speaking, supposed to eat you’ is not a sentence to say on a first date. Or ever.

Luckily, she talks enough for both of them through their date. Telling him about her cat and her friends and her job and her childhood, talking about the country he saw before war devastated it, stood on its hills and watch dawn stripe the sky pale lavender. He’s content to listen, to hear her accent emerge more the longer she talks, to take in all of her. He can see the myriad shades of green in her eyes, the dark spread of her eyelashes, the faint freckles scattered across her nose breaking through the thin layer of make-up. Every twitch of her fingers draws his eyes, and he can smell the musk of her perfume, and beneath that the sweetness of her skin, his eyes tracing over the web of veins crisscrossing her wrist.

He takes a deep breath to clear his head, and instead takes a long sip of wine. Wanda giggles and says, “Slow down, handsome, I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you home.” She reaches across the table and brushes a stain away from the corner of his mouth, her finger so warm against his skin, and he stares at her for a long moment before he ducks his head.

Their walk through the park takes them to a stream, a picturesque curved bridge, and he grins helplessly when she tangles their gloved hands together, tossing her hair back over one shoulder and smiling at him. She pauses at the arch of the bridge, and he looks down at the colours caught in the water, at the trembling reflection of the moon.

Then her lips are on his, scalding hot, and he leans into this first romantic contact in so long, the first real human contact in years. Her hand touches his cheek and doesn’t jerk back at the cool of his skin, but cradles him closer. His arms wrap around her and he’s sure that he wouldn’t even notice if the bridge collapsed beneath them.

He does, however, notice when it starts to rain. But Wanda just beams at him and pulls her umbrella from her bag, raising it above them and continuing to kiss him. It feels like a scene from one of the movies he loved so much in the eighties, still watches despite Sam insisting that he has to get a more modern taste in his media, and he smiles against her mouth.

Being in a relationship - that’s what this is, a relationship, a beautiful woman who cheerfully and casually calls him her boyfriend and brings him coffee and buys him novelty socks just because - is somewhat difficult when he’s keeping such a huge secret from her. But he can’t bring himself to tell her. She thinks he’s just a normal guy, admires his cosy apartment and beams when he answers her questions in her language, gushes over the painting and scarf he gifts her for her birthday and lingers in his arms even when he makes excuses about poor circulation and not being able to warm her up.

She’s also shrewd, and clever, and it’s difficult to fool her. He can put her off kissing him after she’s eaten Italian by lying that he’s allergic to garlic, but he ruins that by kissing her when she leaves and having to quickly backtrack and claim the allergy isn’t so severe that it will affect him if he doesn’t ingest garlic. She wears a silver necklace one night that makes his nose itch and his eyes water, and the first excuse that comes to mind is that he just got very emotional over the sight of an old man pushing his equally old dog in a red wagon. He tries to put her off taking photos again and again, until she thinks he’s ashamed of her and that turns into a three-day silence before he turns up at her door with an armful of flowers and a mouthful of apologies, and she kisses him and promises she won’t do anything he isn’t ready for.

She falls out his lap, rumpled and panting and wanting, after they’ve been carefully and slowly making out for minutes at a time, her skirt tugged up high on her thighs and her shirt riding up, and he feebly lies that he has a migraine and leaves her apartment. He’s thrumming with desire, shaking with it, and his fangs are dropped and he runs his tongue over their points with a shudder of horrors. If she’d felt them...if they’d gone further...if he’d hurt her...he has to break up with her.

“Or you could just tell her the truth,” Sam says. He’s lounging on his couch, playing MarioKart, and Vision is fretting on the gaudy rug he’s always hated that Sam bought. For someone who was born in the eighties and turned in the early noughties, Sam really has a thing for the garish seventies aesthetic. “Vampires are common knowledge, she’s not gonna run away screaming.”

“You don’t know that,” Vision says, miserably picking at the seal of a blood pouch. He can still see Wanda’s eyes dark with desire, feel the press of her hips into his, and he can imagine how he looks after dinner. Fangs dropped and stained crimson at the tips. She’d be horrified to see him like this. “I really like her, and-”

“And the last time you really liked somebody you ended up hiding from the crazy father that thought you were a demon and tried to shoot you, I know,” Sam says, and Vision shivers at the memory. Virginia’s father screaming about the devil and his monsters, the bullet that passed harmlessly through him, diving into a river and letting the current carry him away, emerging hours later with nothing to show for it but the filth that caked him, the silvery scar in his chest and the knowledge that getting too close to humans is dangerous. “But times have changed, my friend. We’re an acknowledged species. And this girl doesn’t have a father to chase you with a shotgun, anyway.”

Vision throws the blood pouch at his head. Sam catches it, tears the corner off with a quick flick of his head, and drains it without losing first place in his game. And Vision mopes to bed, lying awake as the sun rises.

He doesn’t see Wanda for a week, avoids her calls and answering her texts. He paints sad dark paintings, works harder, and spends his nights reading long rambling stories about love and crying while Sam makes fun of him. He stares down the barrel of eternity and no more time with her, and he pretends that he isn’t upset. Pretends that he knew that an ending was inevitable, because a relationship between a vampire and a human can’t work out.

He pretends that even when Ian proposes to Sam, and he realises that maybe it can.

To: Wanda

Hey. I’m really sorry. Can we talk?

The knock on his door comes three hours after the fateful text, and Wanda is in his apartment. She’s wearing an enormous grey hoodie and leggings, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and carrying a coffee cup. And she stares at him witheringly, arching an eyebrow, and says, “So you ghosted me for a week, and you wanna talk?”

“I’m so sorry,” he says weakly. “I...I didn’t know what else to do.”

“If you didn’t wanna have sex with me, all you had to do was say so,” she says, and the defiance is fading into hurt, and guilt is pouring hot and gnawing into his chest and he wishes he was human. That he could take her in his arms and show her all the things he wants to do without being paralysingly afraid of hurting her. “If you want to break up-”

“No!” he insists, and she looks up, her eyes narrowed. “No, the last thing I want to do is end this. I...Wanda, you make me feel human-”

“But you are...” She trails off, and her eyes drop to his neck, deliberately bared. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” He slumps back on the couch, and she’s still standing, moving closer. “I...the last relationship I had ended in her father chasing me off the property with a gun, before people really understood vampires, and I couldn’t...I can’t bear to think about losing you because of this.” He pushes a hand through his hair, and says, “But if you want to leave...if this is all too much for you...I won’t begrudge you your decision. It would be for your safety-”

“Vizh.” Her voice is soft, sweet, and she cups his face between her hands before she cradles his head to her stomach, and he closes his eyes and breathes her in. “You make me feel safe. It doesn’t matter to me what you are, you’re clearly in control of yourself. And now it makes sense why we only meet at night, and why you don’t wanna take photos, and why you don’t like when I eat Italian, and why you flinched every time I touched you when I was wearing silver jewellery...” She trails off, and he lifts his head to see her frowning adorably. “But why wouldn’t you have sex with me?”

“Oh...um...” If he could blush, he certainly would with her curious expression and her bright eyes. “See...it’s hard for us...vampires, I mean...to control ourselves with human...lovers. And I’m scared that I...I might get carried away and hurt you. Because I...we’d be so close. I’d hear your heart so loudly, and we’d be...naked. And things. I don’t...I don’t want you to get hurt. Not by me.”

“Oh sweetie.” She lifts his chin and plants a simple, sweet kiss on his lips. “You could never hurt me.” Then she smirks, slides into his lap, and breathes, “And make no mistake - I’ll always be the one in control.”

She kisses him, long and hard and dirty, and his breath rasps into her mouth. Her kisses trace a path from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and she whispers, “By the way, you’re a terrible liar. I’ve known from the start.” A tug of her teeth on his earlobe, and she breathes, “Fucking a vampire is on my bucket list. But only if I top.”

If a dead heart could come pounding back to life, that would be the sentence that does it.

[timelordthirteen]

Night Shift 3/?

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Explicit

Summary: Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young. Take back what you said, can't lose what you never had.

Notes: Several people wanted a flashback, so here is one from happier times. Please note the rating change and the additional tags and warnings. For the 31 Days prompt #8: red.

[AO3]

Lacey’s red dress swished around her knees as she walked.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and shivered, the wind biting at her bare legs and toes where they peeked through her sparkly, open toe heels. Initially, she hadn’t planned on going to Granny’s annual holiday party, but after the incident with Gold and the cider, she’d gone home and had a good cry, deciding that she wasn’t going to let the bastard ruin what little joy she still found in the holiday season. Granny’s party was always a good time, and the one night during the year where wearing her uniform to work was frowned upon. She might have chosen something a little more formal than necessary, but she really liked this dress.

It was a red velvet cocktail dress with a halter strap that went behind her neck and was finished with a satin bow that buttoned instead of tied, ensuring no accidental wardrobe malfunctions. The fabric crossed in the front, right over her chest, in a deep V, which paired well with her one and only push-up bra, and made her look like she had a lot more cleavage than she really did. She’d bought it a couple of years ago for another party, and only wore it once, which was criminal since she knew she looked fantastic in it.

Gold had certainly thought so at the time.

He’d been invited to a Christmas party given by a business contact in Boston and invited her along. They had only just started to be a thing, and a weekend in a big city, staying in a posh hotel room sounded heavenly. It had been, at the time, and looking back it had also been a real turning point in their relationship. After that, everything felt much more serious, or so she thought, and it wasn’t long before she was staying over at his house and sitting in his kitchen in nothing but his shirt, sipping wine while he made dinner.

She’d bought the dress just for that trip, spending way more than she would have normally, even dipping into her reserve fund to get shoes to go with it. He’d been suitably impressed when she came out of the bedroom, all sparkles and velvet with lace underneath. The entire party had been foreplay, and the memory made her stop and close her eyes as she sucked in a breath through her nose.

A moment later, Leroy called out a greeting to her, and Lacey shook her head, making her mess of brunette curls sway against her shoulders. She waved to Leroy, and then plastered on a wide smile as she pushed open the door to the diner.

December 2017

Lacey let out a small sigh as she leaned over and set her wine glass down on a nearby table.

The low neck of her dress afforded Gold a very tempting view from a few feet away, and he let his gaze drop for just a second before it snapped back up to hers like a magnet. Her lips curved, and there was no mistaking the the way her eyes darkened, igniting a low heat in his stomach. His tongue darted out to wet his mouth, and she crossed her legs together, sliding the sheer black stockings over each other, the delicate crystals set in them shimmering in the yellow glow of the dining room.

Gold finished off the rest of his scotch, and politely ended his conversation with Abe Midas, senior partner at the law firm throwing the party, and a man whom Gold had worked with for many years when he lived in the city. He turned around, frowning when he saw the table where Lacey had been was empty, but like a moth drawn to the fucking flame, he found her all the way across the room, standing by a side door. She made a small come hither gesture, then slipped through the door toward the back hallway off the hotel’s large banquet room. It took him several minutes of annoying hellos and how are yous as he tried to follow after her, and by the time he reached the door he was ready to take his cane to the next person to interrupted him.

He cleared his throat as he came through the door, just in case, but Lacey was there waiting for him, leaning against the wall in what seemed to be a rather secluded corridor. The din of the party was muted, making it feel as though they were truly alone, and he stepped closer

"What took you so long?" she asked, her speech just a little bit breathless as he trapped her between his body and the wall.

"All these bloody lawyers," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

She laughed lightly, trailing the tip of her index finger down his tie to where his suit jacket was buttoned. Then she hooked her finger over the fabric and pulled him closer, tipping her face up to brush her mouth against his.

“You looked like you needed a break from them.”

He smiled crookedly and nodded, bumping his nose into hers. “I did, thank you.”

She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, and the motion is like a flint to stone, sparking something inside of him. He captured her mouth, kissing her hard and deep as he pushed her back against the wall. One hand goes to her hip, and hers wound around his neck, sighing into his mouth as her lips parted to invite him in.

Gold pulled back reluctantly. "We should probably not do this here." His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat again.

Lacey touched her hands to either side of his face. Her lips were pink and already a bit swollen as she grinned. "Why not?"

Because there’s people on the other side of this wall.

Because we could get caught.

Because I’m bloody in love with you.

He said none of it and kissed her again. Her hands slid around his neck, her nails scraping against his nape, and a shiver ran down his spine, which she must have felt because she did it again and again. He tilted his head, sealing his mouth more firmly over hers, tongue dipping inside as she met him halfway with a soft, throaty moan. His hand skinmed down to squeeze her backside, and she arched her spine with a gasp as he pinned her in place with his lower body. Their hips met, and the sound that she made sent all his blood rushing down as stars danced across the inside of his eyelids, and his pulse thrummed with how badly he wanted her.

There's a new sense of urgency underscoring his need to learn for her, from the way she tasted to the feel of her skin, to how perfectly her body seemed to fit with his. Fuck, they should have skipped the party and never left the room.

His hand was under her dress before he knew it, pushing aside thin, damp silk to sample her wetness and pull a strangled noise from her throat. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing heavy and fast as he pushed a finger inside her where she was hot and tight and already clenching around him.

“God, Lacey,” he gasped, feeling a thrill of pleasure wash over him as he added a second finger.

He watched her with a half-lidded gaze, drinking in the soft gasp that she made, and the way her lashes fluttered shut as her mouth forms around a small, strained oh. He pulled nearly all the way out just to feel her pussy tense as his fingers entered her again, and she rocked her hips forward until he was as deep inside her as possible. She snuck a hand down between them and ran her palm against the hard ridge of his cock where it throbbed against the front of his trousers, making him groan. Their mouths fell back together, the kiss half breaking apart from the weight of each hitch in their breathing.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her head moving and knocking lightly against his.

“Can’t wait to fuck you, Lacey. I’ll make you come so hard, sweetheart, until you beg me stop.” She whimpered at that, and he nipped her puffy bottom lip. “And then I’ll wring one more out of you.”

He built a steady rhythm with her, thrusting his hips into her hand at the same time as he pressed up inside her, until they were both rutting against each other in earnest. For a long moment, there was nothing but Lacey, her quietly stifled moans in his ear, and the tickle of her hair where it brushed against his cheek until a telltale warmth bloomed deep down. He slowed just long enough to shift his hand and rub into her clit, the nub of it swollen and deliciously sensitive, making her whole body twitch like a live wire when he moved his thumb over it in tight, rough circles.

He couldn’t wait to get her upstairs and into a bed and make good on his promise, to make the whole room smell of sex and her perfume. She keened and threw an arm out against the wall for purchase, her nails scratching the wallpaper as she came hard. After she came down and her breathing returned to near normal, he wiped his hand off his pocket square and tucked it in his jacket.

“Had enough small talk and hors d'oeuvres for one night?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she reached for his belt.

She gave it a small tug, and his eyelids fluttered, closing briefly as he felt his cock pulse with need. “Yes,” he managed. “I think I’m ready for the main course now.”

Gold’s hand tightened around the handle of his cane as he watched Lacey enter Granny’s diner.

All he had to see was the dark red peeking out beneath her coat to know what she was wearing, and to remember what it was like to strip it off of her and make her scream. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, swearing he could still smell her scent on him in that back hallway outside the hotel banquet room.

A week ago, he’d made the regrettable choice to confront her and ended up with a lap full of hot cider, though it only did damage to his trousers. There’d been a general stickiness he had to shower off his legs, but on the whole he figured he rather deserved all that and more. He could have opened with an apology, probably should have over a year ago when they’d first had their falling out, but always was obnoxiously stubborn in that regard, never doing what was best for him, particularly when his defenses were up. His first reaction was always to lash out, to tear down the other person and make them cease to be a threat, except all that had managed to do was strain his relationship with his son and completely alienate the woman he loved.

Gold swallowed against the thick lump in his throat and let his head drop.

He still loved her.

And that, he supposed, was a fitting punishment, being forced to carry around all the feelings and memories, unable to do anything with them, or exorcise them from his heart. He’d tried after all, tried hating her, tried forgetting her, but it was all in vain. She seemed to have forgotten him just fine, after switching her life around specifically to avoid him. How she’d managed it so well in a town of less than five thousand people he’d never know, but then again he was quite the predictable homebody, so he supposed it wasn’t all that difficult. But now that he knew where she was and what she was doing, now that he could see her every day from a distance, it was like salt in the wound.

He exhaled and looked up again, staring through the shop window at the lights across the street, the warm glow of Granny’s party like a beacon through the snowy night, advertising food and fellowship and terrible Christmas music. There’d been a moment when he was with Lacey where he thought he could have that kind of life, but he’d bitterly thrown it all away. Somewhere along the line, his life had become a prison of his own making, and no matter how much he piled his beloved things up around him there was no comfort in it anymore.

Sighing heavily, he turned away from the window and pulled on his coat. The night air was bitterly cold, and the snow had changed from light flurries blown about by the slightest wind, into wet, heavy flakes that were quickly covering every surface. He scowled as he walked to his car, slower than usual to avoid any icy patches, but a sound caught his attention.

Across the street, Lacey came stumbling out of the side door of Granny’s into the alley by the dumpsters, and he watched as a tall figure followed after her. His eyes narrowed when he realized it was that scumbag Keith Nott, and his lips curled back to reveal a flash of teeth as he took a step into the street. Keith appeared to give Lacey a push, and then said something Gold couldn’t make out. A moment later, the two were in shadow, and a few seconds after that he heard Lacey cry out.

Lacey pressed her hands to Keith’s chest and pushed hard, but the lumbering idiot wouldn’t budge.

“Keith,” she said loud and firm, “I said no, now get off me!”

Keith sneered down at her and held her against the wall. “Come on, baby, why else did you come out here?”

“To get away from you!” she spat.

He leaned in, bringing his stomach turning beer breath close, and she turned her face away with a wince. A second later, the pressure on her shoulders was gone, so was the smell of Keith, and she could feel a sharp, cold rush of air against her.

She blinked, and then gasped as she saw Keith curled up on the pavement, held there by something pressing into his side.

“I believe,” came Gold’s voice, as he stepped out of the shadows and pushed the end of his cane harder against Keith’s ribs, “that the lady said no.”

[gucciwins]

Are you here alone ?

Y/N goes out with friends and finds herself in some company

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this for a while if I should post it or not but I thought it was cute so I went for it. This was inspired when I decided to go out with friends and ended up alone on more than one occasion. I am at the point where being alone doesn’t stop me from having fun.

It had been a few months since the last girl’s night you had with your friends. After officially moving into the new place things have been hectic with work and spending more time with your boyfriend before he jets off to somewhere new.

Alexa and Dani decided on a new club, that had good reviews. You had asked your boyfriend to join you because knowing your friends each one would find a guy to dance with and would probably try to drag you into it as well. He declined but told you to have fun but not too much fun.

He was leaving to dinner just as you were about to put on your outfit. The good thing you didn’t need help with the zipper.

He gave you a small kiss on the lips with a promise to call him if you needed a ride home. You agreed happily stealing one more kiss before he walked out the door. You yelled out the name of the club just in case he changed his mind.

You hoped he changed his mind.

You had decided to wear a burgundy jumpsuit with a deep v-neck and ruffle sleeves on the shoulders. It was not too much or too little plus you could send your love a photo to tease him a little.

Just as you placed your phone in your clutch a car outside honked signaling you ride was here. You walked out making sure the door locked behind you.

“I am glad you chose us over lover boy tonight,” Dani said as she pulled out of the driveway.

“Yeah, well when all you do is get drunk and find a new lay it isn’t always fun.” You respond with a playful pout.

Alexa chuckles, “This time it will be different.” You got her a look from the backseat as she was facing you. “Let’s bet on it.”

You sat up at her choice of words.

“If Dani and I leave you alone then we’ll buy you those new boots you are too stubborn to buy yourself.”

“Go on” You reply.

“We want you to pay for the next mani and pedi we go to.”

You stop to really think about it for a second. You know you aren’t going to lose because they like dancing but they also don’t like dancing alone. “Add some donuts to my list and I will shake on this.”

Alexa stuck her hand out and you shook it. Donuts, what a win.

**

Alexa was going to be the designated driver because you all needed a ride home. You suggested that you would do it but they shut you down just as quickly because they say you needed to let loose.

As if you don’t already do that. Well, obviously not a lot but on game nights you all end up a little too drunk. Especially when your boyfriend pulls a word that shouldn’t be real on scabble and makes you drink a shot every time you dictionary him.

You entered the club and already were uncomfortable with how crowded it was. Dani pulled you over to the bar and ordered you each two shots. You knew their goal was to get you drunk but you had to be sober enough to catch them with a new partner.

They didn’t inform you that the club was having latin night so all you could hear was everyone singing along to Maluma’s “Felices Los Cuatro”. You were pretty good at Spanish having learned it from an after school program you took at a young age.

This always turned on your boyfriend too bad he wasn’t here.

**

You and your friends have been dancing for what seemed forever when you excused yourself to the bathroom. You saw that your curled hair was starting to stick to your neck because the dance floor was getting stuffy. You pulled a black scrunchie from you clutch and pulled your hair into a messy ponytail. It surprisingly still looked nice. You walked out dreading going to look for your friends in the crowd of people.

You stepped onto the dance floor when a guy grabbed your wrist. You were quick to snatch it away not bothering to look up at the person. “Not interested.” You said hoping the person heard you and hurried into the crowd.

You spotted Dani’s bright pink top and make your way over to her.

“Dani, this person-“ you cut yourself off when you see her making out with a tall blonde buy with tattooed arms.

She pulls away out of breath and a bit surprised to see you. She laughs because she knows that mani pedi she was dreaming of is not happening. “Do you remember Kevin? I told you I met him last summer at a yoga retreat I took with my mom.”

You don’t remember a Kevin but if she does then that’s okay. She can do whatever she likes but you want to keep dancing so you hope Alexa didn’t find a guy.

“That’s cool, nice meeting you Kevin.” you shout over a Shakira song. “Where’s Alexa, I want to keep dancing.”

Dani tells you to turn around. You turn quickly to see Alexa on a stage dancing with the DJ. You don’t know how she did that in the span of ten minutes. Your friends honestly do come to leave you alone. This is why for girls night you always suggest dinner and bowling.

You shake your head and laugh because you can handle dancing on your own. “Suavemente” comes on and you get just a little too excited. You pout because you don’t have someone or dance it with.

Just as you were starting to get lost in the rhythm of the song you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to find a girl around your age in a striped top and black ripped jeans smiling at you and you can’t help but smile back.

“I lost my friend and I love this song, Will you dance with me?” She said boldly.

You’re a bit shocked a stranger wanted to dance with another stranger. “My name’s y/n.” You tell her. “I only dance with people I know.”

“I’m Valerie, can we dance now that we know each other.”

You laugh and nod your head. She grabs your hand and moves with you to the beat of the song. The lyrics are definitely sexual but you don’t mind especially since you’ll probably never see this girl again. Just as the song is coming to a finish she pulls you into a hug.

“My friend texted me she’s at the restroom. Thanks for the dance.” She says a bit loud.

“No, thank you, my friends ditched me so that was fun.” You tell her with a laugh.

“Before I go there’s this guy that’s been watching you like a hawk by the bar. He’s wearing a red velvet blazer. Looks a bit like Harry Styles if you ask me.” She says eyeing him a little but not looking away from you.

“Oh, please. Like Harry would come to a club where he could be easily spotted.” You say.

“Be careful either way. It was lovely meeting you” She tells you and walks away.

“Sexy Movimento” starts playing and you know exactly how to get the guy at the bar hot and bothered. You never turn around to meet his eyes but you do angle yourself in his direction.

You start by swaying your hips left and right moving to the rhythm of the song. You turn around with your back to him and move your hands down your hips hoping it looks as sensual as it feels.

As you threw your head back a little, it hit a hard chest. A hand fell on your right hip. You saw rings adorning their fingers and got excited because they had to be the prettiest hands you have ever seen. A bit of light was reflecting off them, and you saw black nails in contrast to your french tip nails.

He now has both hands on your hips and pulls you as close as he can to you. He lowers his lips to your eye and you close your mouth to contain the sound of surprise from leaving.

He places a small kiss under your earlobe, and you lean your head to the left to give him more access.

“Greedy little thing you are.” He whispers.

“Listen, I could say the same.” You respond. “Have felt your eyes on me for a while.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Are you here alone?”

“I’m here with friends.” You search for Dani and Alexa and find them with their gentlemen for the night.

“They must be bad friends if I saw you dancing alone.”

“Actually, I was just dancing with one. It felt nice having her pressed close to me. Almost like this.” You say with a smirk.

He tightens his grip on your hips just a bit more. You know you’ll have bruises their tomorrow.

“You’re not playing nice.”

“Who says I had to.”

“I’d take you right here if I wanted to.”

At this comment you have to laugh. “I don’t think it’s that easy.”

“You’re right, this stupid outfit restricts that from happening.” He growls into your ear. “I’ve got no access to make you a moaning mess.”

“Well, who says I would give you permission at all?”

“Oh baby” He leaves a kiss on your jaw. “You can’t say no to me.”

With that final comment, you turn around.

You stare into your boyfriend’s green eyes. Harry has that signature smirk on his face, eyes full of mischief.

“Is my outfit really stupid,?” You pout looking down at it. “I thought I looked good, Harry.”

Harry grins. “Baby, if you had been dressed in this before I left neither one of us would have made it out the door.”

You grin proudly at his comment.

“I am upset, we can’t have a bathroom quickie” You groan at his comment to hide how turned on his words make you.

You smirk up at him, and he frowns not knowing what is going on.

“Well Harry, the good thing about this outfit is that when you take this off there is nothing else to undress.” You laugh as his eye darkened with lust.

“Let’s gets out of here”

“Why so soon, I haven’t danced much” You sigh because you were having fun.

“Baby, you danced enough. That girl you danced with” He says in a threatening tone, “she was too close with hands roaming to low on what is mine.”

He pulls you close so you’re chest to chest. “I wanted to come in and take you here in front of everyone to remind you who you belong to.”

“Too bad I don’t like sharing”

Harry smirks because he doesn’t like that idea either. “That’s something we can agree on.”

“Can we also agree that as soon as we get home you’ll have me naked.”

“Oh baby, you won’t be wearing clothes for the rest of the night.”

You lean up to leave a kiss on his neck . You can’t help but suck a bit hard on his neck because you want to leave your mark on him. Before you pull away you soothe the skin with your tongue. As you pulled away, you saw Harry biting his lip to hold in a moan.

You rub your thumb gently on his cheek to get him too look at you. He slowly opens his eyes and smiles at you. It’s like your the only people in the room until someone knocks into Harry from behind. You’re not bothered by it.

“What are we waiting for, love.” You pull away making sure to sway your hips a bit more to rile him up. You’re by the bar when you blow him a kiss and make your way outside.

Harry quickly rushes after you desperate to get to get home. As he makes his way to you already sitting in the passenger seat of his car playing with the stereo. He stops to stare. You look at him from inside and smile at him. The look in your eyes hold nothing but love and admiration.

Harry knows Y/N will be the death of him.

Hope you enjoyed reading this. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated

[tybalt-tisk]

Its a few days late, but here it is! Happy Birthday, @breezycheezyart (Art above is also my Breezy!)

We talked about this Au {BikerBoy!Shiro and his PreppyGirlfriend!Allura} some time ago and I finally decided to write it for you since you liked it so much! You are a blessing to the Shallura community and i’m so happy to call you my friend!

.kitten mittens

//

Allura took another sip of her hibiscus tea and she couldn’t help but close her eyes in delight as the hot drink coated her tongue in liquid gold. She didn’t often dine at this cafe because it was ridiculously overpriced and the clientele was always so pretentious. However, today she made an exception because it was her father’s turn to choose their destination for their weekly lunch date. As much as she disliked this cafe’s uptight demeanor, she had to give them credit for having one of the best tea selections in the city.

She listened eagerly to her father’s weekly report of their family company, Voltron Tech, and asked questions whenever she saw fit. Even though she gave her father the attention she knew he deserved, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering off. Her perfectly manicured nails danced on the edge of the porcelain cup, creating a song only she knew the lyrics to and her eyes constantly shifted to her watch to check the time.

It had only been 5 minutes that went by after their agreed meeting time but, “Where is he?” she asked herself. She wasn’t annoyed by his tardiness but it was unlike Shiro to run late without telling her first. Out of the two of them, he was always the punctual one.

“Is there something on your mind, Allura?” her father asked her suddenly. When she came back to reality, her father had already received his second cup of coffee. He watched her through his thin-rimmed glasses as he poured in his milk then stirred in just the right amount of sugar.

She felt embarrassment rush over her because she was caught daydreaming. “No, it’s nothing, Father,” she assured him and she looked over the lunch menu in a useless attempt to distract him. Allura herself was extremely observant but she was nothing compared to her father. He sees the things in people they don’t see themselves and Allura was no exception. She was his daughter, heir to a tech empire, and trained from birth. He definitely knew that something was up with her.

Nevertheless, he gave her the chance to speak up before he did. He took a sip of his coffee before he responded. “Are you sure?” he pushed.

She gave a short nod, something she always did when she told him a lie. “Positive.” She read through the expensive French dishes with little to no effort, but at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to enjoy a burger from the shady restaurant on the corner of Richmond and Kirby.

He made an undecipherable sound, one that walked the line between contentment and amusement. He ordered another coffee – black, from the waiter, and told him to make it to-go. He looked over the menu as if it were a newspaper. “It’s unusual for Shiro to be the one running late, is it not?” he said casually without looking up at her.

She was a fool for thinking she could mislead her father. She rolled her eyes and sat back with her arms folded over her chest. “It would seem so,” she responded dryly and Alfor laughed at her display. She always hated it when he told her exactly what was wrong with her before she could admit it herself.

The waiter came back his requested coffee in a fancy to-go cup. Alfor thanked the young server and took the coffee away.

With her arms still folded, Allura raised a brow in confusion. “Why do you need two cups of coffee?”

As soon as she asked the question, she heard the familiar rev of a Kawasaki Vulcan 900 Classic. Her eyes lit up and a smile split her face at the sound. She whipped her head around just in time to see her boyfriend turn the corner before he pulled up in front of the posh cafe.

Allura turned her head towards her father and eyed the coffee that was packaged for travel. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You knew.”

He grinned. “He texted me about 15 minutes ago and informed me that he wasn’t going to be able to stay for lunch.”

“He texted you but not me?” she said in disbelief. “I’m his girlfriend!”

“Maybe he wanted to tell you personally?” He hinted towards Shiro who stood just outside the cafe and gestured for her to come to talk to him outside. “Or maybe, here’s a suggestion, maybe he likes me more than he likes you?” He chuckled when she stuck her tongue out at him.

“You’re insufferable,” she said through a smile as she stood from the table.

She took the hot coffee from the table and walked out to meet her boyfriend. She couldn’t help but feel the thrill of the attention. All eyes were on her as she approached Shiro. By no means did they look like they were from the same social circle. She was an heiress, practically a princess. She attended all of the parties hosted by only the city’s wealthiest and, to her disdain, also the snootiest.

And he was...he was her exact opposite. Clad in all black and full of piercings, he was made of muscle and he stood 6’2”. A scar stood proudly over the bridge of his nose and he wore boots that haven’t been cleaned in days.

And he was hers. Just as much as she was his.

She suppressed a giggle when she heard whispers as she walked towards the door. She absolutely loved the attention she got when she defied society’s expectations of what it took to live like the upper class.

She walked out of the cafe where she came face to face with Shiro. She wanted so badly to be mad at him for not telling her he wasn’t going to stay for lunch, but as soon as she looked into his kind, steely eyes, the words died on her tongue. Instead, she offered him his coffee with a smile. “You’re late, Shirogane.”

He gave her a boyish grin. The same one that she fell in love with the first time she met him and one that will forever be her favorite part of him. He took a step forward and gave her a chaste kiss to lips as a greeting. Deep down, Allura hoped the woman who sent her food back three times fainted at the sight.

“I know I’m late and I’m sorry babe, but…” he paused when he licked his lips and gave her a surprised look. “You taste like flowers. What is that? A new lipgloss?” He was genuinely curious and it made her giggle.

“I was drinking hibiscus tea,” she said. “Do you want some?”

He licked his lips again before he answered. “No thanks. I’m sure it doesn’t taste the same in a cup as it does on your lips.” He gave her a sly wink. She really hoped that bitch was on the floor now. “Anyway, I’m sorry that I’m late and I’m sorry that I can’t stay for lunch.” He paused for the sole reason of dramatic effect. “But I have a good excuse.”

She raised a brow at the look he gave her. “Try me.”

“I got a little distracted,” he told her playfully. “because something else caught my eye.” He rocked on his heels because he found great joy in teasing her. He actually laughed at the look of jealousy in her eyes. “Don’t worry babe, you know no one could ever replace you, buuuut you might have a little competition.”

Before she could speak, he brought out a tiny, black kitten that he somehow had hidden under his leather jacket. It was as big as his hand and it had his purple bandana tied around its tiny neck. Allura held back a squeal of excitement so she wouldn’t startle tiny creature and Shiro knew exactly what she wanted.

Carefully, he rearranged the kitten so he could hand it over to her. “Careful now, I think it’s back leg is hurt,” he warned. The kitten let out a tiny mewl at the new arrangement but quickly found gratification in her warm arms. It purred up against her chest and Allura heart melted at the sight.

Allura ran her hand over its slightly dirty fur. “Shiro where did you find it? It’s absolutely adorable!” She cood.

He reached out a hand rub behind the kitten’s ears. “I found her wandering around in the middle of a busy street. And I couldn’t just leave the little thing there. So I got off my bike so I could stop traffic and get her.”

“Aw, my brave little hero,” she said as she stroked the kittens tail.

“Only the bravest,” he replied. “So I pick her up and she immediately nuzzles into my chest and it’s probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I was thinking of dropping her off to that shelter down the street but if you want to keep her…” His voice trailed off with a smirk.

Allura held the kitten closer to her chest and it’s little paw lashed out to play with her silver curls. “Don’t you dare drop of this...this angel to that shelter. Of course, we’re keeping her!”

He chuckled a rich laugh. “I’d thought you’d say that. I’m going to take her to the vet, which is why I have to miss lunch with you and your dad.” He looked behind Allura and into the cafe before he waved boldly at Alfor who smiled warmly and tipped his mug towards Shiro in a greeting.

She nodded, understanding exactly why he couldn’t join them. “That’s fine,” she told him as she held the kitten above her head and giggled at the way it swatted at a passing butterfly. “I don’t think this is your crowd anyway. But I do love seeing their reactions when they see you.”

“Don’t worry, their reaction was amazing. I made sure to wear my best footwear.” He wiggled his dirty shoes for extra measure.

“Those aren’t even yours, those are Keith’s,” she said when she realized.

“Hey, I stuffed my feet in these just for you since you have this weird obsession with wanting people to faint when they see us together.” Oh yes, she loved this man.

“Your effort to encourage my behavior is appreciated. I’ll make sure reward you later.”

“Remember to bring that flower tea,” he said lowly as he snaked an arm around her to bring her closer.

She giggled when she heard glass break from within the cafe. “It’s like music to my ears.” When the kitten mewled again, she shifted her attention back to the black fur ball in her arms. “What are we going to name her, Shiro?”

“I was thinking Black. Because you know, she’s black.”

Allura frowned in disgust at his suggestion. “Shiro, I swear if you name this precious ball of miracles ‘Black’, I’m going to divorce you.”

Shiro laughed at her words but it quickly died down before he said seriously, “You gotta marry me first, Princess.”

Her eyes searched his and when she found not an ounce of sarcasm, she replied. “I suppose I do, huh?”

He smirked. “We’ll see if that can be arranged.” He was back to his teasing ways but Allura knew he was serious. It was only a matter of time before he asked the big question and she had a lifetime to give.

She gave the kitten back to Shiro so he could take their new family member to the vet for a checkup. He got on his bike so he could start it up and the engine roared to life. She leaned over the bike to give him a kiss goodbye.

He returned the kiss chastely, but not as much as he would have liked. He couldn’t care less about the crowd that watched them, but he would rather not make out with Allura in front of her Dad. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her lips. “I’m taking you out to dinner later tonight, okay?”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Ooh! Can we go to that burger place?”

“The one on Richmond and Kirby?” She nodded her head enthusiastically. “You got it, baby.” He placed the kitten back under his jacket before backed up his bike carefully onto the road.

She waved to him goodbye before she returned to sit with her father. He let her settle down before he spoke. “Allura, dear, I love this restaurant and I would love it if you didn’t try to burn it down with chaos because you love to prove a point.”