#sorry for starting with a pun LMAO

[solariex]

red & ruben art !1!1

originally i was gonna use this as the icon for the red askblog (which is @kittycatred btw cough cough self promo) if i did doodles there i wanted it to be easier to draw so i opted for the stickfigure style theree !! :D

[binary5tar1117]

AHHH I finished a fic! Finally. Not the fae one but a prequal to the only ateez fic I've posted. I've been trying to get myself to finish it forever. It was sitting at like 60% done for a while and then like 90% done and now fucking finally actually done!

I still need to let it sit for a day or so and do some edits and formatting so I'm not posting it just yet but ugh it feels good to finish it.

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[dmc-tings]

It’s been a while since I requested anything off tumblr! (Hope I’m doing it right) would you kindly write dating headcanons for Vergil? ❤️❤️

(Looks right to me lmao. Also I felt like this needed a sort of into to the dating, so enjoy)

Dating Headcannons for Vergil

First of all... what did you do to get the Alpha and Omega to notice you?

He doesn't just pick anyone.

Really we think Nero's mom got lucky

It was actually through Lady you and the Blue Devil met

She brought you too the shop

HEART THROB

He just saw you from across the room

Hehe, of course Dante saw the small signs if his big brother's interest

The straighter back, smoothed out shoulders, and you can't forget the lack of him showing off his arms (that vest? Fuckin please. Dude's got arms for days.)

But you clearly weren't impressed.

It took Trish to tell him it wasn't it.

Dante was happy to laugh at his suffering

Vergil promptly stopped peacocking

But... he still didn't know how to approach you

You're... quiet. Observant.

Like himself.

For a while it was just... longful looks from him.

But then (without reason) Dante suggested that you ask Vergil about Demon stuff.

Ah. His magnum opus... of himself anyways

That's when you went over to him finally

"Lemme talk to ya."

Oha? Not so shy then. More cautious

That led to a rabbit hole (No pun) that you fell down

Eventually Vergil let you accompany him to his favorite library... the only one in Redgrave (one could assume he simply just opened a portal to where he wanted)

And you? You took him to little quaint cafe's, or parks that didn't have too many people

Nook and cranny or hole in the wall places that didn't have people staring at him

He adored it

Mostly because he wasn't bothered

But your company, more over the private time with you, allowed him to see you

And he's a hopeless romantic.

So the day he asked you to be his (and only his) you gave him a sweet kiss... on the cheek

Gave ya mans the "butterflies" and he went home red eared

(Here are the relationship stuff)

Vergil... is horribly like a demon. He spent so many years in Hell or under Mundus' brainwashing, he's more devil than human

He... like a giant cat, he leaves dead devils heads or limbs at your doorstep.

You had to SCOLD him for it

He was, unreasonably, pissed. That wasn't good enough?

His "rizzlord" of a brother tried to help

It did not go well

Between the awkward "ayo girl's" or the tragic "Call me Mr Flintstone, cause I can make yo bed rock" (which Vergil didn't even know what the fuck that meant)

You told him "Verge. Stop listening to your brother. Anyone else would have called the police on you."

Dante got a proper beating that day

So Vergil eventually said fuck it and started to read those cheesy romance books

Things turned around then

Flowers. Chocolates. Your favorite foods.

A more normal human relationship

He is chivalrous

Fast to open doors for you, or pull out your chair

And a fast fist to anyone who makes you uncomfortable

He just can tell ok?

A little bit too close to him? Or an avoidant stare?

He's all action. No verbal warning.

YOU noticed the signs of him ready to swing

It's lighting fast. His eye twitches, and a head swivel. When he finds the target you have maybe second to grab him.

You usually are too slow though.

A sickening crack and someone is sleep

And it ain't neither of you

Vergil also likes to cook

Yes. Human food.

Superb sense of taste, he can almost tell you exactly what's in a dish

So asking him for something specific is easy. (I like to think he's kinda like Ignis from FFXV)

Sorry. But intimacy is a challenge to him

He's really like a cat

He'll come to you when he's ready

It's usually slow, heavy and careful steps

Visually cautious

"May I sit with you?"

Of course you don't deny- why did he sit so far away

He's like on the far end of the couch

Give him an hour

He slowly scoots closer

But... there about a 4 inches away from you

He does this so you can choose to close the distance

You usually do.

Hehe red ears.

He doesn't let his face heat up, but his ears. Hims ears always burn up

And then the small cocky grin he gives himself. Satisfaction

With that you basically tell him it's ok to grab you up

In his lap

Mf will fall asleep with you like this

Ah.

No one thought he'd have a safe haven in you

[slowdrawl]

Shear Luck | joel miller x f!reader | part:3 {18+ minors DNI} [masterlist]

|part 3| Capital 'F' Fireworks| 2.6k words|

Joel Miller, a single dad, came into your salon for a haircut, but he never expected to leave with a crush. Sarah's alive, tension's are high, the jokes are bad and the chemistry is crazy!

Fluff ?✔️ Slow burn? ✔️ Age gap? ✔️ Puns? ✔️

sprinkle in a little bit of smut 🔥 and dbf!joel energy and BOOM. You got this sweet-feel good fic.

"You see his jaw clench before he sucks his teeth. “That so, darlin’? You’re tellin’ me you got some other sorry bastard willing to put up with your bratty attitude?” He tilts his head to the side, inching closer to you, lips ghosting your ear. “He know how to fight?” " |A/N part 3!!! I hope I let these two live happily ever after because I love them so much. let me know how you guys like the story, your reblogs and comments make me so happy!!!

Warnings: Mild language, flirting, fluff, puns, age gap (Joel's 38, reader's 23). eventual smut, alcohol use, YEARNING, mild smut, kissing, jealous!Joel

The sun is kissing the horizon, the sky turning navy as the moon starts to show her face.

It’s nearing 9 pm and the majority of parents have ushered out their crotch goblins, hauling them off in minivans before the fireworks blast off—settling the shrieking of the party. The yard is littered with the aftermath, beer cans, half-eaten hotdog buns, and a lone flip-flop that nobody wanted to claim.

The sound of a thousand crickets harmonizes with The Grateful Dead. Jerry Garcia sings “Touch of Gray” from a speaker hidden near the porch, volume dialed down low. The air is heavy with humidity, sticky and hot, clinging to your skin like a damp blanket. It’s gross, but you’re kinda grateful for the sweat—and the dark at this moment. You have no doubts that you’re still red in the face from Joel’s lips on yours in the kitchen. The heat that won’t die down, ’cause you’re repeating the moment over and over. It’s in your head like a damn highlight reel every time you blink your eyes.

Across the yard, your dad trudges toward a guy you vaguely clock from Saturday poker nights as a kid. Darren? Darryl? Yeah, Darryl. He’s at the far end of the backyard, hauling a cardboard box that just says America! Fireworks! in big red, white, and blue letters. They start unpacking the explosives like little kids on Christmas, unwrapping Roman candles, bottle rockets, and other sticks of death with hilariously patriotic names like Wave the Flag, Victory Eagle, and We Want You! They set them all up in a neat little row on the fence line.

You do a visual sweep to see who’s still lingering around and spot Kim, still on the patio. Her chin rests on her hands, elbows ground into the table, looking far too interested in whatever conversation she’s having. You can barely make out a blonde guy across from her, laughing away. She’s giving him her best “fuck me” eyes. Good for her! You whip your phone out and text her from across the yard.

(9:04 PM) You: Who needs to use protection now? Ahahaha u gonna hit that or what 😜lmao

You see her pull her phone out of her purse glancing down, she shakes her head. Looking up, squinting till she spots you in the dark, then flips you off, sticking her tongue out. You laugh and type out “love you bestie,” hitting send just as Joel leans into your ear, his drawl real quiet, smooth like tumbled stones.

“Who’s got you smilin’ like that?” It comes out playful, but you hear a whisper of jealousy in his words, so you play along.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, cowboy?” you tease, giving him a wink as you pretend to hide your phone from him. “Maybe I’m textin’ someone about dinner reservations—you wouldn’t get it.” A grin spreads wide across your face, but not his. 

You see his jaw clench before he sucks his teeth. “That so, darlin’? You’re tellin’ me you got some other sorry bastard willing to put up with your bratty attitude?” He tilts his head to the side, inching closer to you, lips ghosting your ear. “He know how to fight?”

Well, that played out differently in my head. Did it get hotter out here?

You don’t answer his question, just bite your lip, still standing shoulder to—elbow with him. You stare ahead and watch as Sarah finds a spot worthy enough of setting down her towel to watch the show. You elbow Joel in the side to get his attention. “You don’t have a breathalyzer on you by chance, huh?” you grin. “Figure we should check if Dad’s sober enough to drive himself to urgent care if he blows his fuckin’ hand off.”

Joel lets out a chuckle, shaking his head—He’s gotta be sick of your shit by now. “I’m afraid not, darlin’. We’re just gonna have to hope for the best. You’re a smart girl though, sure you could jerry-rig a tourniquet.” His voice is quiet, teasing, and you catch a glint in those dark eyes that has your stomach doing kickflips.

Sarah’s voice shrills through the darkness of the yard, cutting the moment short. “Hey! You guys! Over here!”

The two of you head over to her. You drop down to the ground sitting beside her. You lean back on your hands, reaching out behind you, grass already itching the backs of your thighs through your dress. Joel settles on the other side, stretching out his long legs. His boots kick up a patch of grass as he gets comfortable. He leans back as well, mimicking your pose, placing his hand next to yours propping himself up, close but not quite touching. It’s still too close though—you can feel the warmth radiating off his knuckles, and it’s got your pulse doing dumb shit. You can smell him, pine and musk, making the kiss replay in your head one more time, still buzzing on your lips.

Your dad’s voice booms through what’s left of the crowd. “Alright everybody, move back, I ain’t coverin’ no one’s copay.” He fumbles out a barbeque lighter and does a few test clicks before holding it up like a torch. “Okay, from three! Two! One!”

The sky explodes, red, white, and blue splashing over Sarah’s wide eyes. She squeals, head tipping back. You do the same, smiling like an idiot. Fireworks never fail to make you feel, and act like a little kid. Joel’s dimple grows more prominent with each passing flash, his eyes are locked on Sarah, watching her glow; but every so often you see them flicker to you. You catch his jaw tightening like he’s fighting something. He leans back further now, fingers inching closer, still not touching, but you can feel the ghost of it.

The last boom echoes in the sky. The yard erupts in applause and whistles. The kids that remain run around rogue with sparklers still, nearly taking their eyes out before being collected by their adults. Your dad’s already at the firepit, slamming down a pickaxe on some kindling, building up the bones of what you’re sure will be an impressive bonfire. People are pulling stray chairs to make a sloppy circle around it, cozying up, beers in hand. Your dad sprays the wood with a bit of butane and grabs the same barbeque lighter from earlier. A few sparks, and the fire roars to life, nearly taking Dad’s eyebrows as an offering as it ignites.

“Hey, kid! Go grab the graham crackers, s’more time!” he hollers, slamming down the last of his beer. “Joel, wanna grab what’s left of the booze in there while she’s at it?”

Is Dad playing wingman for me right now? Or is he just truly a dumbass?

“More beer, on it—just make sure she doesn’t light herself on fire, but if she does—” He pauses dramatically, looking around the yard while pointing to Sarah, “throw’er in the pool for me, I guess.” He tousles Sarah’s curls before getting up off the ground, groaning as he does. “Go find more chairs, kiddo. We’ll be back.” He reaches a calloused hand out to you, pulling you up off the grass and to your feet, hand lingering in yours.

You stumble inside. The screen door creaks shut, and he’s on you before you even hit the kitchen. Lips on yours, softer this time, but with more intention, less teeth, still just as hungry. He steers you back into the fridge. You hear the contents rattle as he cages you in, sliding his knee between your legs, possessive. He pulls back for a moment, half-panting into your mouth. “Dinner reservation my ass.” He’s practically growling now, leaning his whole body weight into his knee, sending a jolt of electricity to your core. “Not sharin’ you.” he nips at your lower lip, feral. You melt into him, tugging at his shirt, letting your hand travel down till they hit denim. You can feel him getting hard against your hip, it makes your head fucking spin. The door bangs open again. This time it’s Kim and blonde guy stumbling in, giggling as she grabs her purse from the kitchen table.

“Oh, wait—oh! Shit, sorry, my bad lovebirds! Pretend we’re not here, just—uh—carry on!” She winks, slurring, “Get it, girl,” as she drags her new friend out the front door, and Joel pulls back, breathless, muttering, “Fuckin’ hell,” lips red, grinning, ”What am I gonna do with you?”

“I can think of a few things,” you laugh, but your voice shakes and you head to the pantry for the real reason you’re in here. S’mores, graham crackers, chocolate, where the hell’s the chocolate—cool—got it. Joel turns around to grab the drinks from the fridge and catches a stray one, stopping it from crashing to the ground as the door opens. He takes out a six-pack of Bud and the last few Smirnoff Ices, placing them on the counter, but not before he throws one at you. “Don’t get any ideas, you brat.” You catch it, fumbling the chocolate bars in your hand, sticking your tongue out at him as you do.

You head back outside. Smoke and the crackling of the firepit fill the air. Sarah’s slouched in a camping chair with a towel wrapped around her, covering her from the waist down to her bare feet. You sit beside her and hand her the package of marshmallows, watching the way her eyes go wide with excitement.

Your dad gestures over to her. He’s sharpening a stick that he’s surely just yanked off a tree; there’s still a damn leaf on it. “Here, kid, use this.”

Sarah looks back at him, confused, her tiny eyebrow raised, having no idea what he’s telling her to do. “Use it for what?”

Your dad doesn’t reply. He just shoves a marshmallow onto the end of the stick, and she gets the drill. “Oh—yeah, we usually have actual roasting sticks,” she giggles and practically shoves the marshmallow into the center of the fire. It ignites into a flaming ball of molten sugar. She pouts, sliding the charred marshmallow off the end of the stick. She tabs another one on the stick and tries again, more careful this time; crouching a few feet away from the fire.

Joel sets the case of beer down at your dad’s feet, grabbing one for himself and putting it into the cupholder of the chair next to yours, but he doesn’t sit down yet. He spins on his heels, heading for the back gate without glancing back at you.

After a few minutes, he reemerges from the front of the house, acoustic guitar slung over one shoulder and a red flannel tucked under his opposite arm. He leans the guitar against a tree and walks over to Sarah, still sitting in front of the fire, stuffing her face with marshmallows and half-melted chocolate, wrapping her up in the flannel. She looks hilarious like she’s a cartoon character wearing an oversized housecoat. The shirt hits her below the knee, arms extending far beyond her little hands.

You watch as he grabs the stick from her and shows her how to roast the perfect marshmallow, twirling the stick slowly, over and over, until it’s the perfect shade of gold. He puts it between two crackers and adds a piece of chocolate, bringing it up to Sarah’s mouth, but then he fakes her out and eats half of it himself. Sarah smacks him on the side of the head, causing the entire group to start laughing.

He sits in the chair beside you, close enough that his knee presses firmly to yours. You point over to the guitar, “Okay, cowboy, you’re gettin’ more and more impressive every minute—where’s Wonderwall?” He sighs, glancing at you with a half-smirk.

“Patience is a virtue, gorgeous—I’ve been tryin’ to tell you that—good things come to those who wait.” He doesn’t even drop his voice down, saying it matter-of-factly. You swoon.

That was bold as hell. Dad’s too drunk to care, or does he even care anyway? Who cares, he called me gorgeous.

Once Sarah’s done licking chocolate off her fingers and smearing the leftovers onto Joel’s flannel, she plops down, scooting her chair closer to yours. Then, without warning, she climbs into your lap, sticky hands and all. “You’re comfier than that dumb chair,” she says, settling in like it’s the most natural thing. You laugh, wrapping an arm around her to keep her steady. Her hair brushes your cheek.

“Yeah, well, you’re a mess, princess.” She grins, totally unfazed, and you can’t help but grin back. Her warmth, her easy trust, it’s doing something to your chest you can’t quite name.

Joel walks over to the tree, slinging the guitar back over his shoulder. He sits back down, tuning it with a few quick strums. The warm glow of the fire catches his face, those lines around his eyes, that damn dimple. He eventually starts picking out a slow, mellow tune, “Future Days” by Pearl Jam or something close to it. His voice joins in, low and gravelly, not perfect but warm, and it’s like the whole yard quiets down to listen to him. Crickets, chatter, even the fire seems to hush.

Sarah hums, half-asleep in your lap, her weight sinking heavier against you. Your dad’s grinning; Darryl’s tapping his foot. Kim—wait didn’t she leave?…guess not. Is cozying up with blondie on a blanket, shooting you a knowing look across the flames, expression soft.

You’re watching Joel, his fingers moving over the strings, his focus soft but steady, and it hits you like a truck. Sarah’s steady, sleepy breaths, his quiet strumming, the way he glances at you over her head, like you’re a part of this little world they’ve got.

Oh, fuck. I’m fucked. Capital F. Fucked. This man could ruin my whole damn life.

Not just him. It’s her too. The whole fucking thing. Your heart’s doing somersaults, and you don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run. So you just sit there, holding Sarah tighter, letting the feeling burn. It’s almost embarrassing, barely two months ago this guy was a total stranger. Even now, you’ve only spent a day with him, but it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. It feels—right, like you’ve lived your whole to get to this feeling.

Maybe I’m just delusional.

The yard empties. Darryl and the poker guys stumble off; Kim and blondie vanish with a wave and a flash of the middle finger. It’s just you, Joel, Sarah, and your dad now. The fire dies down to glowing embers. Your dad’s half-asleep in his chair, muttering about cleaning up tomorrow.

Joel sets the guitar aside, stretching his arms out, and looks at you, like really looks, then says, “Hey, lemme borrow your phone. Wanna get a picture of this.”

You fish it out of your pocket, handing it over, and he snaps a quick shot, you and Sarah, her curled up in your lap, firelight flickering on your faces. He fiddles with it, smirking, then hands it back. “Sent it to myself—now you’ve got my number too, trouble.”

He scoops Sarah up, her head smacking against his shoulder, and leans in close, close enough you can feel his breath, murmuring, “Thanks for tonight, darlin’.” His lips brush your temple, soft and quick, and he pulls back, that dimple flashing in a quiet smile, carrying her off to the truck.

You’re left there, giggling like an idiot, kicking your feet under the chair, heart racing as your dad snores beside you. Yeah. Definitely fucked.

[blue-jisungs]

a laugh for a coffee

# author's note ... not proofread, sorry!!!! also this is based on a tiktok i saw lmao

# setting ... non-idol!haechan, barista!yn, grumpy x sunshine

# warnings ... yns kinda a bitch lmaooo but tbh a mood, i relate ;; swearing

you knew it was an awful idea. every normal person would know. especially a person that values money.

but mark, apparently, is none of those.

standing behind the counter, arms crossed on your chest, you let out a deep sigh. your overly optimistic co-worker just shook his head.

“come on, dude! some smile won’t hurt anyone!” mark whined and looked at you like a kicked puppy.

“you sound like a typical karen right now” you grunted and noticed the first customer glancing at the flier taped to the window. their eyes widened and they rushed inside.

“see! told you it was a brill–”

“hello, how can i help you today?” you cut him off, monotonically greeting the person.

“i saw the flier, so here’s my attempt: knock knock”

you just shot a side eye to mark, who grinned.

the flier that he hung up this morning (supposedly with consent of your boss, but that you’d argue) said ‘make our barista laugh and get a free coffee! :)’

so that’s why, right now, you’re obliged to answer:

“who’s there?”

“interrupting cow” they puffed their chest out. you already felt it in your bones that it’s just a bad joke.

“interrupting c–” you tried to bounce the line back, as the joke usually goes but…

“MOO!” they mooed.

they mooed.

mark started laughing and they send him finger guns. you remained unbothered, tapping your fingers against the counter. the customer scoffed and pulled out their wallet.

“you’re a tough one, huh? i’ll just get an espresso then” they smiled and you nodded, taking the order.

“come on, dude. that was good!” mark shook his head and you went to the coffee machine, ignoring him.

you were known to be the grumpy person, quite everywhere. whether it was your class, friend group, work environment or family. but that was your attitude, and it wasn’t even all the time. you just saved your words, not caring about bullshit. besides, it was mostly towards strangers. when you opened up to mark, he later revealed that he thought something possessed you. but not everyone has to be nice to strangers and fake laugh at their terrible jokes.

mark seemed not to understand that, though, and made it his goal for today to witness that happening.

you knew he won’t succeed. it would take a really good joke or a child falling to make you smile… not to mention laughing. especially at work, when you just want to get your shit done and money earned. if you wanted to have a job that’s just for shits and giggles, you’d work in entertainment.

“oh no, not me. her. yah, y/n, come here! there’s another joke for you!”

sighing deeply, you turned on your heel.

this is going to be a horrendous day.

you were expecting the end of your shift like a small kid expects christmas. minutes were running painfully slow, hours - even slower. it felt like an extremely boring class, when you close your eyes for ten minutes but it turns out it wasn’t even a full minute.

that’s how you felt; dreadful jokes one after another. at some point you just decided to zone out, planning your tomorrow day off. your mind just fished out the orders and isolated the awful puns.

“yo, dude! hi!” mark’s voice boomed in your ear sickeningly loudly (well, maybe because he was standing right next to you).

focused on making a cappuccino (who even orders those at 7pm?), the smell of freshly grounded coffee making you wonder if you should go cafe hopping tomorrow. carefully angling the pearl white cup, you poured the milk foam from above. when the cup was ⅔ full, you lowered the pitcher with milk as close as possible and reflexively wiggled the vessel gently to create a flowery pattern. then at the end, you flattened the cup and finished the milky masterpiece with a swift move.

“it’s amazing how she does that with no emotions on her face whatsoever”

“because i’m at work, you fuck–” you wanted to growl but your eyes shot up, meeting with a new customer “oops”

the guy giggled and shook his head.

you placed the beverage on the tray, next to a warm croissant with chocolate and mark grabbed it. leaving the space to deliver the order, you stepped to the cash desk again.

“can i take your order?” your voice was cold.

maybe it wasn’t the best approach for work but you couldn’t help it. especially today.

glancing at the customer, you realized it’s one of (many) mark’s friends. his brown hair was fluffy and loosely falling on his forehead, cutely matching with the beige hoodie he had on–

stop.

“what’s up with the flier thing? even mark texted me…” he started but was cut off by the canadian himself.

“haechan, finally! how are you?” his voice was a bit panicked, rushingly coming up to you.

haechan, that’s the name. or nickname? you’re pretty sure you heard mark call him donghyuck before. maybe it’s an inside joke?

“good, actually. i wanted to grab some coffee because i’ll probably pull an all nighter today” he explained and his curious doppio colored eyes scanned you. with the corner of his lips turning upwards, he thought of something “actually, you know… i’m a student and…”

your body language spoke louder than words because he pivoted and said something else.

“whatever. but truth be told, i looked up tips on how to make a girl smile. some were really creepy, dude. ‘tickle her’ or ‘make a silly dance’? like, what kind of loser came up with those? even worse, what kind of loser would do those?” he smiled to himself. that was true - he went through quora and other wikihows. if his plan - which was mostly just yapping - didn’t work out, he planned to do a silly dance. ‘chicken dance’ was what one of the sites proposed.

“i think you forgot to mention the kind of losers who even look up such tips in the first place” you huffed and mark’s eyes widened. that’s the first reaction someone managed to pull out from you throughout today. haechan saw his friend’s face and took it as a sign. “speaking of tips, you better hurry up if you want to have a coffee. there’s other customers in the line. by the way, mark why are you still here?”

“i, uh! sorry!” your coworker yelped and rushed to the other cash desk to serve other customers.

“so?” you cocked an eyebrow and crossed your arms.

“i bet you heard an awful lot of bad jokes, huh?” he asked, poking the inside of his cheek. mark was listening, somehow managing to also listen to the last customers’ orders.

“yup”

“shit, that was my plan a” haechan sighed dramatically and looked you in the eye “please don’t make me do the dance…”

the pathetic whine wanted to make you laugh itself. but you saw the pure unwillingness to do the dance… and you would never say no to humiliating a man.

and haechan seemed to notice that too. well, he also heard stories about you from mark.

“do the dance, haechan” you nodded, fighting a smile.

he let out a sigh, eyes locking with yours. there was a glint of amusement dancing in his americano-colored irises.

slowly shifting away, he started to awkwardly do the chicken dance. eyeing mark and you, pure agony on his face. it was just like a torture for both of you, really. but you noticed he was different than others and you finally cracked it out: he didn’t want to get a free coffee. he just wanted to make you laugh.

which he did.

with a loud snort, you shook your head.

“okay, you can stop. my eyes are gonna fall out…” you laughed at, well, the mix of events. him doing the dance, the desperation in his eyes and just the overall craziness of this day.

“no way dude, no way” mark laughed maniacally, the other customers’ looks judging the three of you.

haechan nonchalantly fixed his hair, as if nothing happened. then, he leaned against the counter.

“y’know what?” you asked, poking the inside of your cheek while smiling. “sit your ass down, i’ll bring you a coffee and something else. americano, i assume?”

haechan nodded and when you turned around to prepare his beverage, mark exchanged a shocked look with his friend.

you prepared a large iced americano and a cinnamon roll. on top of that, you wrote down your number on a napkin. maybe you’ll regret it, maybe not.

upon delivering it to him, the clock striked 9pm and mark told you to go, and as an apology for putting you through the torture today he said he’ll close up.

so when haechan discovered the phone number (of a girl he’s been crushing on for a month) on a napkin, you were already gone.

“told you that a funny guy–” mark started, leaning on a broom.

“shut up, man” haechan grinned, already saving your phone number.

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua

[nutsackx]

POKÉMON X THE OUTSIDERS AU

info under images lol

if anyone reposts these like the cowboy or scientist au I’m deleting my whole account watch your bakc

I’m gonna preface this by saying I haven’t played or even really indulged in Pokémon for like… 7 years so forgive me if any of this is off or doesn’t make sense…

ANYWAY!!

Original gang is just the Curtis brothers. Ponyboy, after years of putting it off to put time into school, decides he’s finally ready to try being a Pokémon trainer (he’s a bit of a late bloomer, starting at 14 instead of ten…yikes). Usually, their father would’ve helped him on his journey….but he’s, dead, so. 

Darry agrees to help him, eventually Soda gets dragged along too because he’s worried Pony and Darry fighting 24/7 will ruin the experience for Ponyboy. And, Soda, being a Pokémon ranger, has a lot more knowledge than even Darry about how to safely go about this. 

First they come across Steve. Soda and him are already besties, of course. And they have kinda a rivalry going on where they are constantly tryin to one-up each other (all in good faith lmao). It’s not until Steve starts talking about how he started with Pokémon that Darry realizes just how different it was than when he was starting out. Steve agrees to come along, mainly saying he thinks Pony’s gonna get himself killed cus’ he SUCKS!!

After all the yada yada and defeating his first gym leader, Pony finds a dead Radicate and REFUSES to move on until they give the poor creature a proper burial. Since they’re already relatively close, Darry redirects the group to Lavender Town. 

While inside Pokémon tower, they come across a decrepit, old, decaying black-belt class trainer (Mr.Miyagi ((yeah I put him in here, what are you gonna do about it?)),sorry for all the mean adjectives) who of course starts being an old man and going on and on about the boy he fosters there and how weird he’s acting lately (Darry refuses to interrupt because he RESPECTS HIS ELDERS!!!). 

Mr.Miyagi admits that not being around people his age has probably messed with his development, practically calling the boy a hermit, and asks the guys to bring him along in exchange for a very strong Gengar (for Pony, ofc). Darry, upon hearing that the boy is a strong fighter and MUCH quieter then the rest of the freaks he’s dealing with, agrees. 

They go from floor to floor looking for him, eventually finding a cloaked figure on some fuckass floor idk. It takes a minute but they’re like, damn, this hoe possessed! And they battle him, he’s hard to beat but they do it eventually, yada yada. Johnny then takes the hood off, apologizes profusely, and explains that he’s a channeler but not really good at his job yet. (also imagine him with the most fuckass stutter, like Shaky from rdr)

The guys inform him about their promise to Mr.Miyagi, Johnny’s upset for t-minus two minutes before he’s just like “whatever okay” and joins them. (Quickly becomes the favorite, ofc, because he can actually shut his damn mouth). 

They move on to the next gym, yk how it goes…but yeah they come across a traveling circus. And you’ll NEVER GUESS WHO IS A CLOWN!! 

So anyway, Clown-bit, we love him. They come across him, agree to fight so he’ll give them some food and pokeballs, and Pony beats his ASS. 

They don’t really invite Two-Bit along (they think he’s annoying…who doesn’t?) but he just joins anyway. Imagine like constant clown puns. Also he and Johnny quickly take a liking to each other cus’ they’re both kinda outcasts of the group (Johnny’s known the guys for like, a week…and Two-bit Just showed up. Also, we need more Johnny and Two-Bit friend content so).

They keep going, Pony defeats a few more gym leaders, and takes notice that a lot of them seem to recognize someone on their team. When he askes, Johnny admits to being the son of one of the elite four. At first, Pony is thrilled by the info, until he pries a little more and realizes Johnny’s father was an abusive asshole and pretty much sent him away to Pokémon tower to force him into becoming a trainer. Yikes. 

Anyway, on their journey they come across some UGLY blonde guy, like one of those biker trainer classes yk..? Anyway yeah it’s Dallas, shocker. He kinda just gets in their way and refuses to move until they ALL battle him. Obviously, they don’t wanna do that, a lot of work for some ugly freak (did I mention he’s ugly?). 

They agree to let Ponyboy fight him, but he uh…loses. After a bit of back and forth Dallas agrees to let them go if they help him get to the Indigo Plateau in Kanto, so he can face off against the Elite Four there (his bike is old, cus yk…he’s poor.) 

Darry at this point has an entire league of teenagers following him around, so he’s like what’s one more? And boom they move on. 

I don’t have much planned out from here (this was all pulled from my ass anyway). Maybe the Shepards can be like…the Team Rocket of this AU?? And Soc’s are the gym leaders. 

Also, Yeah Cherry and Marcia are both Kanto elite four cus I SAID SO!!! And uh…Johnny and Cherry are dating because it’s MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT!!!! She’s the breadwinner and that’s okay, we love her for it <3

twobit prolly falls in love with Marcia when he sees her but idk if she’d reciprocate with an actual clown. Mayeb Randy lowered her standards???

anyway. That is all. Might flesh this out more if the obsession grows, or it’ll die in a week like the Crazy Scientist stuff. Oh well!

EXPLANATION OF DESIGNS/MORE INFO—

Ponyboy

CLASS: Youngster 

Ngl his design took very little time…..oops

his cap hides a really bad dye job, and he refuses to take it off

He chose squirtle as his starter, idrk why but squirtle just suits him. Maybe cus he almost drowned!!

Would’ve fought to the DEATH if he didn’t get squirtle. This boy knows what he wants 

He has a little pokeball necklace that his mom got him as a joke, will kill someone for it 

He deffo has a really nerdy messenger bag that he keeps all of his stuff in

He’s scared of his own Beedrill 

He does NOT need those glasses. But he likes them becuase he thinks they make him look more professional (everyone can tell they’re blue light glasses)

Sodapop

CLASS: Pokémon Ranger

LOVES his job and therefore is almost always seen in uniform

he loves electric/steel type Pokémon cus they reminds him of cars, so his hair is usually sticking up because of static electricity 

has a whistle, but Darrel stole it and tossed it into the forest VERY early into the journey 

yellow is his favorite color cus I said so

Raichu is his PRIZED Pokémon 

He’s kinda like Snow White the Pokémon love him 

His Flareon and Johnny’s Espeon are best friends 

Darrel

CLASS: Veteran 

Wanted to be a football player, but couldn’t because that wouldn’t keep the family afloat, that’s why his outfit has the numbers on it. 

Lot of scars, some from football and some from his days as a trainer 

His outfit used to have sleeves, but he found them annoying and just shopped them off one day 

Always keeps the spare pokeballs on him 

In highschool he had his hair grown out, but chopped it after their folks died because his father was always trying to get him to cut it 

I don’t really have a backstory for his necklace, buts it fire okay

Treats his Pokémon VERY well, if there was a trainer rating website he would be top 5

Picks his Pokémon based on size and strength

Two-Bit

CLASS: CLOWN

Obviously he’s a clown so, that explains the outfit 

NEVER seen without the makeup, even when it rains or he’s sleeping…that stuff is ON THERE

He has false lashes on his waterline, and yes they’re pink 

He is incapable of being quiet because of all the bells 

The hat doesn’t come off. if it did his hair under there would be hella matted 

All of Two’s Pokémon are just as annoying as he is, he hides earplugs in his shoes for people (they never take them) 

FATASS can and will eat anything in sight

Mr.Mime is his favorite of all his Pokémon….they ate both annoying together and everyone hates them for it 

Johnny

CLASS: Channeler 

the scar on his eye is from his father 😬 from when he figured out Miyagi wasn’t actually training him to be the next member of the Elite Four…. the eye is blue because of some psychic shit idk 

His outfit is from Miyagi entirely, the sleeves used to be connected, but he found it too annoying to fight in those so he tore them (Miyagi was secretly VERY unsettled) 

If you look really closely he has purple eyeliner

Johnny refuses to cut his hair, so it’s usually in a braid to be out of his way, he lets it down sometimes 

He has the little flower charm connected to his belt…what a cutie 

His hood is actually up a LOT, most of the time his face is obscured 

There’s flames on his sleeve….wonder why (not the reason you think okay. His father was a fire type trainer…JOHNNY LIVES IN THIS AU OKAY.)

also the metal things around his arm are like…incredibly heavy. Mr.Miyagi put them in originally so he could build muscle while doing everyday things, but Johnny insists on keeping the on forever. 

Loves all of his Pokémon equally, and they love him back. Always has atleast one out of their Pokeball so he doesn’t get lonely….my baby 

He doesn’t even like the color purple that much it’s just kinda his thing now 

Pokémon FLOCK to this man 

Dallas

CLASS: Biker

Tore the sleeves off of his jacket as well…they really like doing that 

YELLOW teeth and GREASY hair he does not take care of himself

Really likes dog-looking Pokémon 

Has an empty slot because one of his Pokémon just DIED LMAO (idk which one. Oh well) 

Has rips in his jeans, does not plan on fixing it 

Hand-carved his belt buckle. The ‘win’ in Winston is underlined. Ignore the fact that this idiot keeps fucking losing 

The bandages are protecting nothing. He thinks it makes him look cool

Pokémon are revolted by him. Like, his own literally hate him. 

Steve

Class: Hooligan

kind of an ass, but he looks cool

any cutscene of him he’s making sure his hair is still spiked trust

loves steel type Pokémon because…cars

his favorite color is green, making any green Pokémon his all time favorite

for being a little shit, he treats his Pokémon rather well

has studs ALL over his back, once leaned back on Soda and has never heard the end of the pain he caused

he has a tongue piercing….so….

when the gang is lacking resources, he and Dallas are the first to steal

[elliespassagerprincess]

okay so i’ve been thinking of this for like a couple days but i personally can’t write at ALL

ellie x reader inspired by what a shame by lizzy mcalpine where ellie is with cat and cat basically forces ellie to stop hanging out with reader?

What a Shame - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! lmao you can always request things from me if you have an idea!! i'd gladly write it!! i hope you enjoy<3

this story is based off the song what a shame by lizzy mcalpine. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas:)

warnings: emotional manipulation, gaslighting, a lot of angst

summary: In a town where survival often overshadows feelings, you and ellie carve out a safe, warm corner of friendship—one brimming with unspoken comfort, shared memories, and a closeness that borders something more. But Ellie’s girlfriend, Cat, sees what neither of them are brave enough to admit: that Ellie’s heart is slowly slipping into someone else’s hands.

masterlist

What a shame, you think, standing alone at the edge of Jackson’s perimeter fence, where the grass grows too tall and the patrol logs are never neat anymore. This was your spot. Yours and hers.

Not that it mattered now. You hadn’t spoken to Ellie in three weeks.

It started slow. She started pulling away. You tried not to notice—when she stopped coming to guitar nights, when she flaked on helping you with supply sorting, when her eyes didn’t light up anymore when she saw you first.

Then came the harder signs. The way she stopped laughing at your jokes. The way she’d glance over her shoulder like she was being watched. The way she sat stiffly beside you, always just a little too far.

And then the final blow: Cat’s voice, hissing over the crackle of tension in the pub after patrol.

“She’s obsessed with you. Everyone sees it. I won’t let her ruin this.”

“You don’t see it, Ellie? The way she looks at you? It’s pathetic.”

“If you don’t end it—I will.”

You hadn’t heard the argument. You’d only seen the aftermath in Ellie’s eyes the next day. Cold. Guilt-drenched. Distant.

“Hey,” she had said, voice hollow. “We… we probably shouldn’t hang out anymore.”

You blinked. “What?”

“It’s just—it’s not working. This—us.”

You didn’t ask what she meant. Didn’t want to give her the chance to twist the knife. You just nodded. Smiled, even. Told her it was fine.

“Sure. Yeah. I get it. We were just friends anyway.”

That was a lie. You’d been in love with her for months.

The kind of love that crept in during the quiet moments—when her hand would brush yours grabbing an ammo box, when she’d sing under her breath while cleaning her gun, when she’d make stupid puns and wait for your laughter like it was the only sound she needed.

You never acted on it. Never even hinted. Not after she started dating Cat. You respected the line, even if it burned like hell.

But Cat didn’t care about lines. Cat cared about control.

And she saw you as a threat.

Weeks pass. Ellie pretends well. You watch her from afar—on patrols, in the mess hall, walking with Cat’s arm hooked around hers like a shackle disguised as love. She doesn’t look happy. But she looks obedient. Like she’s playing a part.

And maybe that’s the worst part of all. Watching the one person who used to look at you like you were a miracle, now barely able to meet your eyes.

Until one night… you get a knock.

It’s nearly midnight. You open your door and she’s there—hood up, hands shaking, eyes red.

“Ellie?”

She steps inside without asking.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You stare at her. “Then why did you?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just looks around your little cabin like she’s trying to memorize it. Like she won’t see it again.

“She said it was her or you,” Ellie finally says. “And I panicked. I didn’t want to lose her. But I—”

Her voice falters.

“But you lost me anyway,” you whisper.

Ellie breaks.

“I miss you so much it’s killing me.”

Your heart lurches. But then you remember. Remember the silence. The distance. The betrayal.

“You let her decide for you,” you say, tears burning. “And now you’re here—what? To fix it?”

“No,” she says, voice small. “I just… I wanted you to know. Before I go.”

You frown. “Go?”

“She’s leaving Jackson,” Ellie says. “She wants me to go with her.”

Silence. Pain rings in your ears.

“When?” you ask.

“Tomorrow.”

And just like that, you know it’s over. She leans forward, close enough to feel her breath.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes glossy. “I just didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

Your lip trembles.

You don’t kiss her. You don’t touch her. You just stand there and say:

“What a shame.”

She leaves before sunrise. And this time, you don’t chase her.

The letter is crumpled, edges smudged like it’s been folded and unfolded too many times. It was never sent. You find it months later in your patrol satchel, tucked between pages of an old sketchbook Ellie gave you long ago.

"Dear y/n,

I don’t even know if I’ll send this. Knowing me, I probably won’t. Cat watches everything. She’d know. She always knows.

It’s snowing where we are now. Some isolated place west of Denver. Feels like the world ended twice out here. People walk like ghosts and speak like they’re afraid their words might shatter. I think that’s why Cat likes it. Quiet. Clean. No one asking questions. No one remembering who we used to be.

But I remember. I remember you.

I dream about Jackson. Not the place. Not the walls or the horses or the stupid creaky floorboards in the bar. I dream about you—your laugh when you’re sleep-deprived, the way you say my name when you’re annoyed but trying not to be, the stupid crinkle in your nose when you catch me staring.

I used to be so sure I was doing the right thing by leaving. Now I think I’m just surviving out of spite.

Cat’s… different out here. She says she loves me, but it doesn’t feel like love. It feels like a cage lined in compliments and I’m too tired to ask for the key. Every time I try to draw, she asks why it’s always your face I’m sketching. I lie and say it’s just habit. It’s not.

I miss your voice. I miss our space. I miss the way you made me feel like I could breathe without earning it.

I think I made the wrong choice. Scratch that—I know I did.

I should’ve fought for you. Should’ve told you I loved you before she ever made me choose. I think about that moment all the time. How your face didn’t even crack when I said we should stop being friends. How you just nodded and let me go.

Did it hurt you? God, I hope it didn’t. But I know it did. I don’t deserve you after that.

But I need you to know—there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about going back. About showing up at your door and finally saying it right. Without fear. Without guilt.

Just: “I love you. I’m sorry. Let me come home.”

But I don’t know if home wants me anymore.

If you’re reading this���somehow, if I ever do get the courage to send it—please just know: I carry you with me. In every mile. Every drawing. Every time I wake up and think I hear your voice in my dreams.

I hope you're okay. I hope you’re free. I hope… maybe someday, you’ll forgive me.

Love always,

Ellie"

Ellie checks the post every day for two weeks.

She pretends she’s just curious about trade routes, or looking for news from Jackson. But her stomach twists when the caravan approaches, and she always finds herself lingering by the supply cart longer than necessary—just in case. Just in case there’s a letter. A scrap of handwriting. A name in the corner that might mean forgiveness. There never is.

Cat watches her too closely now. Maybe she knows. Maybe she’s read the letter Ellie hid under the floorboard before she could send it. Or maybe she doesn’t need to read it. Maybe she just feels it—the way Ellie disappears sometimes in thought, sketching in the dim candlelight with a kind of ache that doesn’t belong to her anymore.

Cat hates when she draws.

“You’re not even here when I’m talking,” Cat says one night, slamming a mug on the table hard enough to slosh whiskey over the edge. “Always off in your head. What do you even think about when you look like that?”

Ellie doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t say: her.

She doesn’t say: the way she used to laugh at my stupid puns.

Or: how she always knew when I needed silence, not space.

Or: how she was the only one who ever really looked at me without expecting something back.

Instead, she says nothing. Cat goes to bed angry. Ellie sketches in the dark. No lamps. Just memory.

She imagines you reading the letter—eyes scanning each line slowly, maybe your fingers trembling, maybe a tear rolling down your cheek as you whisper her name into your empty kitchen. But that’s the thing about silence.

It tells a story louder than anything else.

Weeks turn into months. The winter deepens. Ellie grows quieter, colder, even with Cat pressing herself closer each night, seeking something Ellie has long buried in a place she’s never getting back.

The drawing of you stays in her journal. A ghost she welcomes.

Sometimes, late at night when the snow winds howl against the old cabin windows, she opens the page and just stares. Waiting.

But silence answers, over and over and over again.

What a shame.

[queenpiranhadon]

Hey hey

I wanted to request a dad aizawa x singer daughter :))

She is his only and biological daughter and wanted since she was little to become a singer and musician but never told Aizawa becase she thought he would told her to become a hero, and one day he finds her singing and playing an dificult instrumen.

Thankss

A/N: HIII IM SORRY THIS MIGHT BE KINDA BAD BC I HAVENT HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH MY DAD IN A WHILE LOLLL Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): reader uses she/her pronouns, slight cursing, inaccurate Japanese translations lol, violin terms bc I'm a violinist :), reader's biological mom is dead, Aizawa became a dad at 19 - he's like 34 in this jsyk, reader's 15-16 yrs old, mentions of being disowned, fluff, mentions of depression and death, Kae makes a really bad pun, hime means princess in Japanese

Pairing(s): Shota Aizawa x daughter f!reader (PLATONIC)

Link to the song in this fic~

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜʀɪ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

“Goddamnit!” you groan, as you fiddle with your violin. (LMAO PUN!! sorry) 

Your fingers ached, as you tried to nail down the pizzicato run at the top of the page. However, your fingers refused to move with the fluency they used you, and you felt the calluses starting to develop on the surface of your fingertips. 

Self-teaching yourself to play the violin was a pain in the ass, but you were determined to go to a performing arts school once you graduated junior high. 

The only problem? 

Your father was Shota Aizawa, underground pro hero Eraser Head, and was not only a pro, but also a teacher at UA High School- one of the top schools for pro heroes in training. 

You loved your father to the ends of the earth, as he did you, considering your small family only consisted of the two of you, your mother having died during childbirth. Aizawa, only 19 at the time, struggled with the loss of his lover, but you helped him get through it. 

You were his pride and joy, the perfect combination of his love and himself, his precious daughter. 

Nothing you could do could make him hate you. 

And you knew that, but your insecurities were bigger. 

What if he wanted you to become a pro hero like him? 

In all honesty, you didn’t see that future for yourself. It was an honorable job, one that you knew was very important, and a job many children wished to have in the future, and yet, that was never your dream. 

Pro heroes went out every day, fighting with their lives on the line, patrols constantly, dealing with paparazzi, not to mention the

paperwork

. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t ambitionless, no, certainly not, but it wasn’t something you found passion in. 

But to be fair, if you were successful in your career path, there would sure be a lot of paparazzi either way. 

You were set on following a path into the performing arts, but it was always a little disheartening whenever you heard your Uncle Hizashi or Auntie Nemuri go “Awww Y/N! You’re going to be an amazing pro hero when you’re older, so kind and so determined” 

You knew they meant well, but still. 

Sighing you set down your violin, gently setting it down in your case and safely securing you bow in before tucking it underneath your bed. That’s where most of your instrumental arsenal lived, all compact and tucked away, awaiting your every musical whim. 

You worked tirelessly to earn enough money for each of your instruments for the past two years, combing through online marketplaces and sales to find decently priced quality instruments. 

Grabbing your keyboard and setting it up, your fingers find their way to ivory keys that played a sequence you knew well. 

The notes left your fingers immediately, music filling your bedroom walls as a stream of tunes flow like a waterfall, smooth and connected, and yet, somehow still intense in its own way. 

Music is a form of communication, you always thought. The right notes paired together convey moods, thoughts, feelings. It always amazed you how something as simple as sequential pitches could convey something words never could. 

Ai shika kanjitaku mo nai (I don't want to feel anything but love) you sang, letting yourself get lost in the music. 

Mou nan no wakehedate mo na (There's no difference anymore)

Matomete kakatte kinasai (Please call all at once)

Ima nara subete uketomeru kara (I'll accept everything now)

~

You finish the song with a resounding chord, the room eerily quiet without any music flowing through it, until a slow clap breaks the silence. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

You jump in surprise, scrambling away from the keyboard to see your father standing in the doorway of your room, the look on his face unreadable. 

You turn bright red and feel your heart sink. 

You never told your father about your dreams and aspirations for the future- what would be say now? 

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath. 

Calm down, Y/N. He wouldn’t disown you because you don’t want to be a pro. And plus, it’s my life! I should have a say in what I want to do. You think to yourself. 

“Dad, I don’t want to be a pro hero...” you mumble out, refusing to look at him. “I want to be a musician, or a singer! I really like music and it just...really makes me happy.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you think with a sinking heart that he’s furious, but then a chuckle is heard, almost deafening in the silent room. 

“Oh, thank god.” he exhales in relief, leaving you staring at him, dumbfounded. 

“Y-You’re not mad...?” you ask, extremely confused. 

“Oh no, of course not hime - don't even think that. I'm so sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me anything. ” he says, and you’re put at ease. “Everyday, pro heroes go through pain and hardships to try to save the people of this world.” 

He sighs “Many pros lose their sanity and fall into an abyss of depression and despair because it’s too much for them. “he looks at you, his eyes genuine and sincere. “I don’t want that life for you.” 

You hug him, and his arms wrap around you comfortingly. 

“I love you dad.” 

“I love you too, hime.” 

Then he pulls away with a sly grin on his face. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?” 

Your face flushes and you shove his arm playfully. 

“Dad!” 

[bratbarzal]

Maggie!!! Here is my fire blurb request for your event!

Coworkers to lovers with dawson pretty pretty please 🥰🙏

With the prompt " if you’re still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, i think i’m ready to put your mind at ease.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

"if you’re still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, i think i’m ready to put your mind at ease.” SWEET SWEET SYD as agreed not technically valentines themed and a little more generic for you I hope you like it!! I tried to put some chaotic syd vibes in here lmao in my head I saw co-worker and straight went to the office vibes lmao you're so kelly!!

"I think I have a stalker."

Dawson looks up from his computer after what feels like hours, his eyes starting to swirl and his head starting to spin, as your wheely chair bumps into his, the collision bringing him out of whatever spreadsheet-induced haze he had just found himself in and diverting his attention straight to you - just how you like it.

"Good morning to you, too." He frowns, not sure how he feels about that statement being the first thing he's heard from you so far today. It's Monday, he hadn't seen you over the weekend, and so the last thing he had seen of you was Friday, which feels like a lifetime ago. The two of you didn't drive in together, for once, with you having a meeting off-site with your boss, and he has been seriously knocked off his groove.

His coffee hasn't tasted right, his computer has crashed more times than he cares to count, and he thinks someone has been messing with the height settings on his chair, because something feels off.

"It's," you grab his wrist and turn, checking the time on his watch, "11:45, it's hardly the time of day for good mornings."

He snatches his wrist back before slumping in his chair, his knees knocking against yours as he runs a hand through his already-messed hair, sighing heavily at the fact it isn't even noon, and he still has half a day ahead of him.

"I'd argue any time of day before noon is the time of day for good mornings, but I'm already bored of this conversation."

You scowl, a familiar playful glint in your eye that lightens the heaviness on his shoulders - something he's missed since he stepped foot into the building this morning.

Everyone else has been getting on his nerves, and despite all the ways in which you purposely try, you only ever really do the opposite.

"Rude," you pout, kicking lightly at his ankles and scooting back to avoid a kick-war, needing to have the last word before it gets out of hand and he gets you to give in and let him win. "It's like you don't even care that I'm being stalked. You'll be sorry when they start coming for you - stalkers don't like the best friends, haven't you ever seen You?"

He rolls his eyes, straightening in his seat and clasping his hands together in his lap - a sign that he means business to anyone else, but a sign that he's no doubt mocking the seriousness of this discussion to you. "Why do you think you have a stalker?"

"Because someone left a serial killer note on my desk this morning." You slam it down onto the surface in front of him, a psychopathic scrawl of, You can poppy over any time, with a drawing of a poppy beside it.

Dawson laughs - because of course he finds it funny.

"How is that a serial killer note? It's a pun."

"It's crazy, is what it is. It's the gateway into leaving locks of hair in my drawer, Dawson. I'm afraid I'm going to go to my car later and there will be a lurker in the backseat."

"Because of a drawing of a flower?" He scoffs, placing two fingers atop the note and sliding it back over to you. "If this even is a gateway, I think the escalation rate between this and someone hiding in your car is pretty steep."

"You would say that," you glare pointedly, the amused smile only furthering your - mostly exaggerated - irritation. "Such a male response. You will never understand the perils of being a woman in modern society."

"Yeah, how dare I think you're being dramatic," he smirks, "You're gonna want to hold onto that, keep it in a safe place in your desk, y'know, for evidence."

"You'll be sorry when I'm someone's basement bride and you have no one to entertain you around here, anymore." You warn him, snatching the paper back and wheeling away toward your own desk, flipping him off as you go.

--

For the first time in what feels like forever, your work week is pretty hectic - going here there and everywhere around town trying to appease your boss, and your time in the office is limited - which means your time with Dawson is limited, too.

Just enough every day to catch him up on the evolution of your stalker's crazy behaviour.

Tuesday starts off pretty normal - he gives you a ride to the office, your morning is pretty slow, and then you have back to back meetings, missing lunch and only just plonking into your seat before the end of the day.

And there, just where a similar note had been yesterday, you find another.

It's a daffodil this time, bright yellow, with the corresponding joke, you're a daffodil-ight to be around.

You scowl at the paper as if your glare will set it alight, reading it over again before you're shooting up and stomping straight over to Dawson.

He's on the phone, this time, twirling the cord around his finger as someone yaps his ear off on the other side, one leg crossed over the other as he turns side to side in his chair. He looks up at you, the completely bored expression he holds never shifting, and you gesture dramatically at the note you've just slammed down onto his desk.

He leans over, phone still pressed to his ear, and squints to read it, smiling immediately as he looks back up at you.

"It's cute!" he mouths, a lopsided smirk forming as you scoff in response.

"It's insane." You mouth back, finger jabbing into your temple to make a point before you're headed back to your desk, throwing yourself dramatically in your seat and folding your arms like a petulant child.

Daffodil-ight?

This can only be someone's idea of a cruel joke. You've never been described as a delight in your life.

Someone wants to cuff you to a radiator in their mom's basement, you're almost certain of it.

--

"I think it's Dave in accounting," is the first thing you say to Dawson on Wednesday - the two of you taking the steps down a couple floors, walking in sync as you so often do when you take your lunch break together. "The flower thing, today's was a dead giveaway. I'm being groomed."

"I don't think you can be groomed once you become an adult," he chimes back, holding the door open for you when you reach the ground floor, and you turn back to scowl as you duck under his arm.

"I don't think you're the authority on that," you tell him, "And as my closest friend around here, you really should have my back with this, it's harassment."

"It's drawings of flowers, babe," he chuckles, the term of endearment slipping out before he can really think about it, but it feels too normal to get weird about it.

"Today's was creepy, Dawson," you whine, "Like the kind of letter they write using magazine cut-outs for a ransom note!"

"What did it say?"

You reach into your pocket and hand it over, I think we're Mint to be, with a green mint leaf drawn beside it.

"And what about this is screaming Dave from accounting?"

"He gave me a strip of gum once," you groan, "I've felt weird about it ever since."

He barks out a laugh as the two of you cross the parking lot, throwing his arm over your shoulders to guide you toward his car, the warmth from his torso doing little to melt your icy exterior, your own body going frigid at his amusement.

"Don't laugh," you shove at his side, the action only causing him to laugh louder. "It's like taking candy from a stranger. Now I'm gonna have to suffer with God-awful jokes and kindergarten level drawings for the rest of my sad existence."

"Aw, bud," Dawson pouts, mockingly, "Try stay posie-tive."

"I'm gonna kick your ass."

--

Thursday takes the cake for being the creepiest note you've received yet - and the worst part of it all, is that Dawson isn't even around for you to show it to him - off-site for a presentation with a client somewhere else in town - and you're left to your own devices, stashing the note with the others in the drawer, chewing at the skin beside your thumbnail and tapping your foot nervously as you wrack your brain over who could possibly be writing, Lilac the ability to control myself any longer.

--

You don't think you've ever been more thankful for a Friday in your life - so ready for it to be the weekend - to be away from the office and away from these stupid notes.

You know deep down that there's hardly any danger behind them, but you're an over-thinker, if anything - and the countless possibilities as to who could be sending them and why are weighing on your mind.

If it isn't someone who wants to kidnap you and move you to a remote location in a woodland cabin, never to be found, then it's someone with an actual crush - and you're so bad at saying no to people that you're now probably doomed to marry some corny, flower loving creep, anyway.

It weighs on your mind throughout the day - so much so that you don't even realise you don't get a note by the time you're finishing.

You don't realise a lot of things.

And you only realise that when you're pushing through the doors downstairs into the early evening, and Dawson isn't by your side.

He's been back and forth to his desk all day, in and out of meetings, on and off calls, and you've been distracted, yourself - but he usually drives you home, especially on Fridays.

You venture a little further into the parking lot, just to see if his car is still around - and sure enough, it's in his usual spot. You can see him leaning against it from the other side, his back to you, and you assume it's best to go around rather than jump straight in, figuring he probably has plans and can't give you a ride today.

You walk past the front of his car, and at the sound of footsteps, he turns. His movements are slow, and so are yours, and so the reveal of what he's holding, or hiding, happens like something out of a movie.

"If you're still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, I'm ready to put your mind at ease."

He's holding a bouquet - one that looks expensive, wrapped in that nice brown paper and held together with twine - a mix of pinks, light and dark, purples, greens and a bit of white, different flowers that don't look like something he picked up at a gas station.

"It was you?" You gasp, stepping closer to admire the flowers, a bouquet so fresh and full of life, clutched in his almost-shaky grip.

"Figured I had to come clean before you went to the cops." He chuckles, handing them over and watching you pluck the small card from the middle.

The note inside has no drawing this time - short and sweet - Thanks for being my best Bud, and this time, instead of horror, it brings a slow smile to your lips.

"I can't believe it's been you this whole time, why didn't you say anything? I said you had the drawing skills of a toddler, Dawson!"

"You know I like it when you're mean," he winks, stepping closer, "You should have known, though, who else around here would think you're a delight?"

Your cheeks flush as he says it - realising you probably should have known. He's found this whole thing so funny, and he's the only one in the office with the slightest sense of humour and love of pranks.

No one else could probably even think of something like this - let alone actually carry it out, planting notes while you're busy doing God-knows what and watching you spiral out.

He's probably had the time of his life.

"I could have gone on, but I could tell you were getting freaked out."

"No shit." You chuckle, nervous now, with flowers heavy in your hand, that you've been so ungrateful.

"Didn't even get to use my favourites - like the one about how you get violet when you're mad." He nudges you, stepping closer again, and when you lower the bouquet, you realise he's straight in front of you now, looking down with that amused glint in his eye that always makes your heart beat a little faster. "Ya get it? Violet? Like violent?"

You swat the bouquet lightly at his arm - enough to thwack at him but not enough to damage it, and he grins - big and amused.

"See." he smirks, "Or the best one."

"I dread to think what the best one is if the rest of them have been so bad."

"It's something about my tulips," he winks, leaning in and pressing two lips to your cheek, "I'll let you think about that one, though.

[empresskylo]

hai hai!! i have some cod nsfw headcanons ^_^ hope you don’t mind i just have brainworms that need to be let out

price has a MASSIVE (pun intended) size kink. he loves having your small frame beneath him, just manhandling you everywhere >_<

simon is actually really gentle. he definitely has dacryphilia, but the first time you started crying during the act, he got so scared :’( you had to reassure him you were alright ! now he can be more rough, even downright mean at times .

gaz looks like the most ‘proper’ of the 141, but he’s freaky !!! he’s really into degradation and praise, and he’s a huge ass man idc idc ! but he’d also spend hours with body worship just taking care of u

soap’s favorite position is cowgirl / just you riding him, he loves seeing his dog tags dangle between ur tits, holding your hips and just having you on top :p

aah that’s it sorry for spam </3 love your writing

I NEVER MIND HEADCANONS ARE WE KIDDING?!!!

price having a size kink makes my brain malfunction. like i neeeeeed that man. i’m so sorry but i also feel like he’d have a bit of an age gap kink. he’s not that old—he’s like what? late 30s early 40s??—but he secretly really likes dating someone way younger than him. the fact that irl i’m like oh ew gross at those kind of men! but in fiction, i’m like i want that man down bad and obsessed with the fact that he’s larger and older than you. need him to feel like he’s taking advantage of you: being older, bigger, and in higher power, and he hates how much he gets off on that.

no im obsessed with simon being a gentle lover. the thing is, i love him soft and rough, so combining it is just 😩 him being so sweet and slow and gentle at first, but once you convince him you’re ok with him being rough, my man goes a little crazy. he loves to leave bruises on you. loves to degrade you (“look how easily you spread your legs for me. pathetic.” “beg for it, love”). loves to toss you around like you’re nothing. loves seeing your eyes water when he’s just pounding the shit out of you, the way you struggle to form coherent words. if you don’t have tear stains by the time he’s done, he clearly didn’t do his job right. but that’s not every time.. he’s still gentle and takes his time and whispers sweet praises in your ear in between. like UMMMFFF.

gaz is younger (and acts like it) so ofc he’s freaky. i don’t think he gets too weird with it or too obscure in his kinks, but he definitely likes to try new things. he lovesssss to talk dirty, watching you get flustered beneath him from just his words is his favorite thing. and my guy lovessss eating puss lmao. he definitely texts you randomly “please let me come over and go down on you. i just miss you so much.” like he straight up doesn’t expect anything in return, he just likes to get off by pleasing you and needs to taste you or he’ll lose his marbles.

i feel like entire fandom has all agreed soap likes it when his girl is on top 🤪 and they’re right!!! he is most definitely and without a doubt, a boob guy. so watching them bounce as you ride him sends him into aerospace. he is obsessed with watching you work yourself on top of him. and he can be dominant when he wants, but a lot of the time he likes when you take charge. he goes crazy when you shove his chest back down as he tries to sit up and you just mercilessly ride him until he’s a whimpering mess.

thank you for this, anon. i always love seeing other peoples headcanons <3

[jennifer-jeong]

can we get a headcanon of the lads boys' (raf, Zayne & Xavier) reaction when MC bought her little sister that resembles a lot to her (MC) I'm dying for some fluffs here where the boys interact with a kid 😂🥰

HI ANON SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG JFDKLA;JFDLSA; THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASKK it’s so fluffy and funny heheh I had fun with this one

NOTE that reader’s sister is around 12 years old in this

Fluff + Crack | F!Reader Little Sister?

CONTENT Fluff, crack, shitposting LOL, implied feminine reader

WORD COUNT: 1342

RAFAYEL

Your sister definitely bullies him at first just like you do (LMAO) and he will pout and turn away in annoyance and she’ll do the same but then you’ll look away for 2 seconds and they’ll be best friends.

At first when you invite Rafayel over, your sister is probably a bit scared, hiding behind you holding onto you. He probably comments on how she’s kind of your “mini-me” and your sister hits him with the “I’m not mini!” and he’ll reply “well you look pretty mini to me.” Then she’ll kick him in the shins (not too hard just a warning kick). He’ll gasp and then dramatically cross his arms, turning away while pouting, she’ll do the same. Of course you’re just giggling at the antics not helping because you know they’ll get along quickly.

“Okay okay you two, go play some games while I finish making dinner for everyone,” you mediate before heading off to the kitchen. So the two stand there for a second before side eyeing each other and scrambling to the TV to see who is the champion at Mario Kart because that is extremely important information. Of course you can hear their screaming and laughter from the kitchen: “WHY DID YOU THROW THAT BANANA AT ME” you hear Rafayel scream, “IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR BEING THERE” you hear your sister reply.

Rafayel definitely yells as if he’s actually driving a car so if he crashes he’ll actually act like he crashed and it makes your sister laugh until her cheeks hurt.

Later on you find out Rafayel placed 6th out of 12 and your sister smoked him for 1st place LMAOOO. They tell you some of the funny moments and it’s all filled with laughter and a bit of banter but they’re practically best friends at this point. You even join them for a few games after dinner and it’s hilarious.

From then on, there isn’t a single moment where your sister isn’t braiding his hair/putting it in pigtails, putting clips on his bangs, play fighting with him, or just having fun with him.

ZAYNE

Basically your sister is dead terrified of him when she first sees him but since Zayne is surprisingly good with all patients, kids included, he’s actually very good with your sister as well.

When you bring your sister to your shared apartment with Zayne, her eyes are literally wide open with fear upon seeing him and when you tell her to come inside, she shakes her head. So you tell her “aw are you scared of him?? He’s harmless, look he’ll even do a dance.” So Zayne looks at you, still deadpan, looks back at your sister, and shimmy’s his arms back and forth a bit. That man is STIFF doing this move but at least he tried.

Her fear hasn’t quite gone away at this point but now it’s just confused fear?? But she agrees to come inside. You walk off to go make dinner and tell them to start a puzzle together and you’ll all finish it after dinner, comforting your sister and reassuring her that Zayne is very sweet. She sits down in the living room with him and they dump the pieces out.

Zayne pauses, staring at the puzzle pieces before asking your sister “what do you call a dancing puzzle?” and she is mildly mortified before actually thinking about the question. She responds “I don’t know, what is it called?” and he, fully deadpan, replies “a jiggy-saw.” Something about the way this stoic man said “jiggy” was just absolutely hilarious despite the awful pun and your sister lets out a snort and Zayne gives a short chuckle. He suggests they begin on the puzzle and they start chatting to get to know each other, occasionally stopping to make fun of some of the funny looking puzzle pieces.

When you call them over for dinner, Zayne holds out his hand for a high five and your sister excitedly obliges before “racing” him to the table, to which he of course loses. They then continue their yapping into dinner as your sister opens up more.

At the end of dinner Zayne has to offer your sister a classic doctor’s office candy and her face lights up, accepting it and running off. You all work on the puzzle and chat, your sister occasionally going over to you and Zayne to tie your hair into matching ponytails that make you look like unicorns with her pink scrunchies.

When it came time for your sister to leave however, she definitely clings onto Zayne’s leg telling him to not let them take her away. But Zayne of course knows how to handle this and says “hey, there will always be next time, and if you promise to be good, you can have two candies, one now, and one the next time we hangout, okay? I’ll even hold on to this scrunchie to remember,” and she agrees to the deal. Needless to say, they were besties now.

XAVIER

Your sister is probably very confused and kind of intimidated when she meets him and Xavier has no clue what to do but he’ll do something cool with his sword or light evol and she’ll never stop being amazed.

When you call Xavier to your apartment for dinner and to meet your sister, he did not expect you to have a tiny doppelganger. What YOU expected even less was for him to literally shake her hand and say “nice to meet you.” Like he fully pulled out the businessman handshake to greet her but she followed along and also hit him with the “nice to meet you too.” Then he walks in as if nothing happened while you and your sister just stand there, watching him walk away before looking at each other and giggling.

You tell them you’re going to finish making dinner and for them to watch a short movie or an episode of a show which they wait. Your sister, being your sister, of course suggests that they watch the new episode of Demon Slayer. Xavier is caught up because you suggested it to him and he agrees, saying he finds the fighting really cool. They watch a bit until the first fight scene and Xavier is like “yoooo check this out” and pulls out his wooden sword LMAO.

He does the same slashing move the character in the scene does and he even uses his light evol to make it look like he has the same powers. He looks back and your sister’s jaw is on the actual floor while he just stands there like the standing person emoji, not sure what to do next.

2 seconds later and he’s teaching her how to hold the sword properly and how to do some basic movements. Her eyes are full of sparkles and she finds him so freaking cool !!! He’s literally a demon slayer character!!!

Xavier of course sees another fight scene and copies a few of the movements. However, he’s too busy watching the screen to see what’s in front of him… Your vase of flowers now sits on the floor. Xavier and your sister literally get on the ground praising the heavens for the vase being plastic and not glass before laughing. Quickly they hear a “WHAT DID YOU KNOCK OVER” from the kitchen and they simultaneously yell “NOTHING” while both hitting the standing person emoji pose.

You put them in timeout together as a joke (you left them there for like 10 seconds and then you all laughed).

During dinner they caught you up on the episode and after eating you finished it together. You all talk about how good it was until you joke that you’ve become a demon yourself and they need to slay you !!! So Xavier and your sister tackle you while you all giggle.

From that day on, your sister never stops talking about how cool her bestie Xavier is and how she wants to train her “demon slaying skills” with him again.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[onboardsorasora]

corporate free use... part 4??

part 3 is here moar sex pollen lmao but also.... quarterly orgy anyone? ish

Daniel cursed as Max’s hole clenched around him. He tweaked a nipple, loving the flush on his chest as he laid out on top of Daniel’s desk, moaning loudly. Max was glorious, all pale, soft skin and filthy pink mouth. 

Right now he was whining and writhing and Daniel was fucking into him with abandon.

The door opened and Jenson walked in with an incredulously raised brow.

“Mate, we have a meeting.” Still, he was unbuckling his belt as Max watched him with hazy eyes.

Daniel flashed a sweaty curl from his brow. “Sorry, mate– forgot. Pollen.”

“Again? Dan, you’ve got to stop accepting dubious food.”

“No, not me.” Daniel groaned, grinding his hips in a way that had Max moaning. “Him.”

Jenson’s other brow raised with his first.

“What happened?” Jenson cupped Max’s jaw, swallowing when he licked at his fingers.

“He was on the 4th floor when… fuck Nando started spraying the place.”

Max whined and Jenson shushed him before releasing his trapped dick and feeding it into Max’s waiting mouth. 

“Fuck.” Jenson sighed as Max worked him. “Isn’t Nando starting the festivities a little early?” 

Daniel nodded, Fernando was. But truly, who was there to stop him? If you went on that floor now, you’d get pollen’d and no one was gonna answer the phone or an email when the quarterly orgy began. He was just speeding up the process.

“Guys, avoid the fourth floor–” Lewis walked in and stopped short at seeing his two directors working over his tech manager.

“Max got pollen’d” Jenson groaned. Daniel grunted as he came, clutching at Max’s hips.

“You in or out Lew?” Daniel asked, stroking Max’s cock and watching his come leak out of Max’s hole. 

“Its early but…” Lewis muttered, taking off his suit jacket. He walked over to Daniel’s desk while unbuttoning his slacks.

“Need me to start you off?” Daniel asked quietly, just short of whispering in Lewis’ ear or nibbling at said ear.

“Mmm no, I’m good. Later though.” Lewis hissed as he sunk into Max’s hole. Max moaned around Jenson’s cock, spurting come up his chest.

They shared Max until he was satiated, panting on the couch completely dazed and fucked out.

“Man, that was a good amuse bouche.” Jenson stretched his arms over his head. Lewis and Daniel looked over at him from where Daniel had been sitting bare assed on his desk, listening to something Lewis said.

“Did you get pollen’d or something, should we be worried?” Lewis asked, amused.

“Nah but I did take some of Nando’s treats that he’d been handing out this morning. Daniel laughed, knowing his friend was running on enough viagra to fuck a harem. Nando didn’t do anything in small doses.

“Is that why you wanted a meeting this afternoon? You jumped into battle real quick there.” Daniel pointed out.

“You think I don’t see how you hoard Max and Lando? And are you two fucking around again? I feel so left out.” Jenson complained, pointing around accusingly. 

“Well, we’re all here now. What do you want?” Lewis asked, scratching his ear. 

“On your knees Ricciardo. It's been a while since I got to ruin you.” Jenson pointed to the ground in front of him, Daniel rolled his eyes and smirked.

“You could have just asked, Jense.”

“That’s what the meeting was for! I had plans! Your sweet arse is mine and Lewis can watch. Maybe I’ll let you suck him off.”

“Sounding like a dictator there, Jense.” Lewis got comfortable in Daniel’s office chair, throwing a leg over the arm and stroking himself lightly.

“Oh no no my friend. Daniel here will be my dick taker.” He thrusted his cock in Daniel’s mouth before he could comment on the terrible pun. Lewis watched eagerly as Jenson fucked Daniel’s mouth with abandon. It had been a while since they all fucked together. Daniel always took it so well for them.

It wasn’t long before Daniel’s nose was pressed against Lewis’ taint as he ate him out while Jenson prepped him eagerly. 

At some point Max arose from his cat nap, cock red hard and horny. Lewis motioned him over and took him in his mouth just as Daniel groaned when Jenson fucked into him. Max watched with wide eyes as his directors fucked each other, moaning loudly when Lewis swirled his tongue in a way that had Max’s knees buckling. Daniel looked so hot getting fucked, Max knew he was seeing something even Lando never got to experience. He never thought he’d ever think this, but thank goodness for sex pollen.

[ravennaortiz]

*smirks and giggles rubbing my hands together* I've missed you and I hope you're ready for all the dark and dirty I'm about to unload (no pun intended... well maybe 🤣🤣)

Could I possibly get a Chibs yandere fic or headcanon like so so dirty 😍😍😍😍🥵🥵🥵🥵😫😫😫😫

*giggles ans bounces excitedly * I am so happy

Lmao 💜 🤣! I'm ready for it! Went with a little dark and dirty story for ya this time, based a bit off the gif below🔥😈

Smut under the cut. As always 18+

Reduced

Chibs was breathing heavy as he looked at you. Your blood speckled sundress still bunched around your waist. The sun glistening off your wet pussy from where you still had your legs open in shock.

"Sorry to interrupt love" apologized Chibs as he gestured his gun towards the man on the ground. "Shame I liked the kid. He would have made a good fit" he continued as he walked towards you. Using his gun he pushed your sweat drenched hair back from your face. You flinched at the feel of the heated metal.

"Fil" you started before he silenced you by shoving three of his leather clad fingers into your mouth making you gag and eyes tear

"I warned you" growled Chibs as he pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth roughly. The gun pressed firmly to the side of your head making you whimper and your pussy to weep more. "Told ye that if ya left you stayed gone. Did you think I'd really be okay with my pussy being here and flaunting with my men?" He questioned pulling his fingers from your mouth leaving a trail of drool down your chin.

"I" you started sobbing before letting out a moan as he shoved his fingers inside your pussy. Automatically finding that sweet spongy spot and ramming it repeatedly until you came.

"I only want to hear your moans Lassie as i mark you" stated Chibs as he pulled from you and started undoing his pants. "Strip, go out to my bike and bend over so the boys can get a good look" he ordered.

You swallowed hard but slid down off the hood of the car you had been on and pulled your dress over your head. Dropping it to the oil stained garage floor before undoing your bra and letting your breast spill out. With makeup stained cheeks and thighs sticky and glistening with your release you made your way to Chibs bike

The eyes of the club roaming over your body. You heard whistles and hoots as you felt new tears form. You had been stupid to believe the man you once loved would be understanding. You had not been in position long before Chibs was slamming his full length inside you.

Not even pausing to let you acclimate to his massive size like he normally would before he was pounding your pussy roughly. One hand wrapped tight in your hair the other around your throat. Your choked out moans flowing as he forced orgasm after orgasm from you. Tears spilling freely down your face at the overstimulation and the realization that he was fully clothed while you were on display. He had reduced you from cherished Old Lady to Croweater.

"Think this suits you love" stated Chibs hours later as he watched you through the bars of the dog cage he had put you in after having pushed his seed deep inside you several times. "Fact I don't even think I need to take you out to use that pussy of mine. Come closer to the bars for daddy" he ordered as he unzipped his pants.

[sautetheshroom]

How long has it been? How long have we done this?

How long have I done this?

I'm so tired. I'm so tired.

I'm sorry, Harmonia.

Thank you to everyone who voted! Roadtrip (very working title lmao, feel free to make suggestions it's so silly and I'd love to hear anything better) is now officially in my active projects list

I'm still in the planning phase as I only have a rough storyline and a few important milestone scenes planned, but once I've got a better roadmap (pun very intended) I'll start drawing!

I've never made a comic before outside of my silly incorrect quotes posts, so please be patient with me while I figure everything out. I think I've seen people make blogs for comics before, though I don't know how all that works, so any advice is more than warmly welcome.

The comic will likely be a mix of traditional and digital art seeing as im more comfortable drawing traditionally, but certain scenes will require a certain flare I can only get digitally!

Anyway, I believe that's all! Thank you again to everyone who voted and showed my little idea some love! Let's see how far we make it in this little adventure!

And how far they make it.

[choism]

A Flashy Plan | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Crew!gn!Reader

Genre: Smut, Crack

Summary: A tough day and a tired crew calls for correction in the captain's quarters

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: sub!buggy, gn!reader, but you can imagine reader with a strap or a dick, unprotected sex (bad !), overstimulation, improper use of the chop chop fruit, buggy's head is elsewhere, semi public sex, multiple orgasms, buggy is a babygirl honestly, and a brat too

A/N: I said I would write it and I did! Look at me keeping promises for once lmao. I hope you all enjoy and dont forget to reblog with your thoughts <3

Today had been a rough day for the Buggy Pirates. There were two attacks, both just outside bordering islands, which meant they couldn’t stop for supplies for quite a while. Stopping meant bringing the attacking pirates near the island, which would cause panic, which would cause bounty hunters and marines to appear at the mere sight of their flag. No, they had to flee, and quickly.

Now, afloat the east blue with no real course yet, the crew was in sore spirits, especially their Captain. Buggy had been extra mopey– extra mean to everyone, and that included you. You and the captain had a…special relationship. Sleep together occasionally, cuddle occasionally, but that was the extent of it. It was just two pirates trying to find sense in this barren sea, and you two happened to end up naturally floating together, pun intended.

You were fed up. All of the crew had suffered losses today. They were starved, thirsty, and just wanted to rest but that was impossible when aboard the ship of the man to be King of the Pirates. Buggy was just making everything worse by poking the bear.

“You all suck! Not a very flashy move to flee an island all because of some lowly pirates. We could've done better.” He spits at nobody in particular, but he looks at you briefly and it sets something off inside of you. The crew disperses and you immediately make your way to the clown.

Buggy is back in his captain’s quarters, bent over the desk and presumably overlooking something, while mumbling to himself. You walk in and quietly close the door behind you, tip-toeing behind him and whispering in his ear, “So what wasn’t flashy about avoiding us getting caught by marines, hm?” You smirk and feel him stiffen at the desk.

“I- I didn’t mean you y/n! You were fine I just think that–”

You don’t let him finish, Spinning him around and pinning him to the desk, leaning fully into his space now,

“Think what? That we are no better than lowly pirates? You know better than to insult your crew during such a hard time, Bugsy.” The nickname rolls off your tongue smoothly, sending a shiver down Buggy’s spine. Outside, he’s the captain, but in his attempt to escape the harsh reality of a Captain’s burdens, he submits in the bedroom.

You, on the other hand? You like control, dominance. You like to feel like you have a grip on whatever flimsy string life is, and this is how you take that initiative. It’s a great dynamic and there have been no complaints from Buggy’s end. Well…Unless we are talking about his rear end…

“Fuck y/n wait, I- I’m sorry okay let’s just talk this out, oh!” You press your knee into his crotch, he’s already half hard from being talked down to of course. Buggy whimpers and trembles beneath your touch, anticipating what you’ll do next. You reach your hand up to hold his jaw and place light pecks at his neck, lowering your hand to grip his neck lightly.

“Head on the table sweetheart.” You smirk and step back, starting to unbuckle your belt.

“Why what are you going to do?” Buggy takes off his hat and his headscarf, letting his long blue locks fall around his shoulders in heavy waves. You would never admit it to him, but you find Buggy so gorgeous, if he offered up anything further than some situationship at sea, you’d probably take him up on it. You stare into his green eyes, giving him an answer without even saying anything. Buggy makes room on the desk and pops his head off, gently landing on the wood.

“Well? Take off your clothes too, slut.” The degrading name causes Buggy’s cock to jump in his pants, now fully hard from the unbelievable sexual build up. He makes quick work of his own clothes, now fully nude in front of his crew mate. You’ve gotten your own clothes off as well, having grabbed the spare lube Buggy keeps in his desk and slicking up your own cock. “Turn around for me baby.” You command him and he swiftly complies.

His plump ass is fully on display, his flush cock hanging heavy between his legs and leaking precum like a faucet. You lube up your fingers, warming it up and spreading it over his hole, making sure to get him ready for your fingers.

“Mm please, please do it already.” His head begs, looking at the sight with his eyes heavy, lips pouted and whimpering. 

“You don’t get a say in this, you get to watch and look pretty.” You grip his jaw and he looks up at you, nodding. Now fully bent over the desk, some things falling over, you enter a single finger, crooking and prodding at him to stretch him properly for your cock later. Buggy lets out loud groans next to you, clearly enjoying the sensation. You add a second, and then a third finger, the lube slick sounds bouncing off the thin walls of his quarters, the crew is probably hearing everything. 

You fuck into him deeply, hitting his prostate over and over, his cock leaking all over important documents on his desk as he ruts into it, chasing pleasure.

“‘M cum…gon’ cum…” He lazily says, and you halt all of your movements. “Fuck why please nng ah!” You swiftly enter him, filling him up with your cock and mercilessly fucking into his wet hole. Almost immediately, he comes all over the desk and onto the floor, but you don’t stop thrusting. Buggy lets out strings of ‘ ah ah ah’ with each thrust.

“What? Can’t handle me being a little rough? How do you expect to handle those ‘lowly pirates’ if you can’t even take a cock properly without cumming instantly?” He’s a whimpering mess, drooling and looking at his own body being fucked. Buggy can’t even form words, the overstimulation causing him to get hard again quickly.

“N…” Buggy starts to say but you can’t hear him. You grab his hair and lift up his head, forcing him to be face to face with you as you pound into him,

“Spit it out.”

Buggy laughs half-heartedly, “Not flashy enough.”

You reattach his head and flip him over on the desk so his legs are in the air and his cock is flush against his stomach. You enter him again, fucking him even harder than before. “Is this flashy enough for you, clown? Wanna be fucked dumb like the cockslut you are?” You feel your own orgasm approaching quickly, you wrap a hand around Buggy’s pathetically leaking cock, fisting it so you can finish at the same time.

Soon after, you both finish, Buggy making a mess of his own stomach, some of it even reaching his face. You pull out of him slowly.

“How’s that for a flashy plan, captain?”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.