#the square deserves to be cute and fun

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Does anyone actually say that Ladybug and Adrien are fake somehow?

Yeah, people absolutely have that take. It's what spawned the original post. One too many fics and shipping poles that treated Marinette and Chat Noir as somehow wrong for their crushes. (I apparently read fast. My ML fic's read count is in the thousands at this point. It's enough to let me notice trends that bug me whereas one fic would just be a shrug and move on thing.) On the Adreinette side you get, "Chat Noir is the true Adrien! Civilian Adrien is just a mask! Marinette only loves the fake Adrien so she doesn't deserve him!"

Chat Noir gets less flak, but I've seen it enough to know it's very much a thing. There's a reason Marichat wins out over Ladynoir in almost every poll. If you ever see one, read the comments for the logic and you'll see what I mean. People with this view seem to think things like, "Chat Noir doesn't really love Marinette because Ladybug isn't stuttery and awkward around him! He has to love her when she's a mess!"

This kind of thing is so popular that I had to stop reading fics that paired Marinette with other people because the "Marinette is the true version" thing showed up all the freaking time. So many of these fics felt less like shipping stories and more like Adrien bashing where he was punished for liking Ladybug and not Marinette. It was draining. Even my favorite one has a scene to make sure Adrien feels bad for missing what he could have had and it's a freaking no powers AU!

I actually had a really lovely conversation about this topic when the blog was young because this is one that gets under my skin whenever I come across it and I occasionally need to vent a bit. The kind person who indulged my annoyance straight up said that they used to think that the square "have to fall in love as Marichat bc that's when they can be real with each other." Which was not a stance that was unique to them by any means. They were just validating my first-hand observations of the way SOME people view the ship/characters.

There is a version of the true selves stuff that's genuinely sweet though. It's the version you basically summed up where it's less about these two being the "true" versions and more about Marichat letting the two get to know each other without the pressure of the crushes complicating things. After all, the canon square is only a few hours removed from love at first sight which certainly adds pressure that Marichat removes. The existence of this version that means I don't hate Marichat or even the words "true self", I'm just warry when I see them as I never know what I'm about to see.

While I get why canon's near insta love and subsequent writing issues would draw a person to Marichat, I'll also once again argue that the issue at hand isn't the various ship dynamics, it's canon's writing as the awkward Marichat arc shows. Even though the crushes only flipped after four whole season, canon Marichat doesn't feel any deeper than canon Adrienette or canon Ladynoir. It's played incredibly superficial and doesn't even bother to acknowledge that Chat Noir and Marinette have a functional friendship as established in episodes like Evillustrator, Glaciator, and Glaciator 2. Elation writes Marichat as if they've never interacted before and Chat Noir is just going on a date with a fan he's never officially met. Passion writes Ladynoir as awkwardly as Adrienette always was. Ladybug's months of platonic partnership did nothing to change how she acts when she has a crush or how successful she is at confessing.

In a better show, canon's Marichat arc would be used to set up Adrienette as a more solid couple. Marichat would allow Adrien to see that Marinette loves him even when he's being goofy, but they'd agree to not date because a hero and a civilian dating is too risky. Then Adrienette would happen and, oh look, Adrien can occasionally crack jokes and be silly because he knows Marinette can love him even when he's at his most Chat Noir in addition to being his most Adrien. Marinette is a little surprised, but fine with it. Canon doesn't go there though. As far as the show is concerned, Marichat essentially never happened. It was a one-off fever dream both characters completely forgot. Canon Adrienette has Adrien playing the perfect flawless boyfriend who never annoys Marinette with his jokes.

In summary, that post wasn't about saying that Marichat is bad or unhealthy or that there's no version of the true selves thing that's cute. It was me venting a bit after seeing one too many instances of people acting like Ladrien, Ladynoir, and Adrienette could never be healthy because friends to lovers is some sort of golden standard when it's absolutely not. It's a neutral preference. Each side is fine. What matters is how you write it.

Why the "True Selves" Theory is Insulting

Image for a second that you have a friend who's a bit of a ditz. She's also fun, creative, and sweet. You enjoy being around her, but you've never seen her as more than a friend. Then, one day, a fire breaks out at an event that you and your friend are attending. Your lives are suddenly in mortal peril and the same goes for everyone around you because you can't find the exit. You think that you're going to die.

Then, suddenly, your friend transforms. Not in a magical way, it's just a personality shift, but it might as well be magical because it's like nothing you've ever seen! The ditziness is gone, replaced by laser focus and a take-charge attitude that has everyone following your friend without question. When all is said and done, everyone lives because of you friend. As it turns out, her tendency to get easily distracted means that she's a fantastic in-the-moment problem solver.

Going through that completely changes how you see this girl. You no longer just like her, no, you're now deeply in love with her. You tell a mutual friend about this and they laugh at you, then say, "Don't be silly, that wasn't really her! Her true self isn't that brave girl who saved your life! That was special circumstances that don't count. All that counts is the way she acts when there isn't a crisis going on. It doesn't matter that you've always liked her and enjoyed her company, if you didn't fall in love with based solely on her ditzy self, then you don't really love her."

Most people would call this mutual friend insane because of course going through crazy experiences changes the way we view people! Imagine if you had an allergic reaction and your significant other's reaction was to panic and run away, leaving you to die. You only live because you manage to grab your phone and call '911.' That would understandably lead many people to reassess if this is the person they want to spend their life with just like the opposite experience might make you see a person as a good life partner.

Marinette is Ladybug. She gets full credit for everything she's done in the suit and it's perfectly fine for Adrien to become attracted to her after he sees her in action. It doesn't mean that he only values her Ladybug side. He quite clearly cares for Marinette, he just hasn't seen her in the right light for him to fall in love. (And, if we're being frank, Marinette acts like Ladybug all the time when he's not around or when he is around, but a crisis is going on. She's really not that different from her alter ego.)

Along similar lines, Marinette isn't wrong for being drawn to Adrien's sweeter side more than his over-the-top jokey side. There's a reason why Glaciator ended with her blushing. Compare the end of Glaciator to the end of Origins and, yeah, same energy because - in that moment - Chat Noir was letting his Adrien side out by being more sincere and vulnerable, which are the things that Marinette values most in a romance and the things that he rarely shows while in the mask. It doesn't mean that she hates his jokey side, it's just not going to win her heart when Adrien's right there being sweet and sincere while Chat Noir hides his feelings behind a smile and a laugh.

In fact, it's pretty insulting to Adrien to say that someone shouldn't be attracted to his more vulnerable side. That his sincerity is worth less than his jokes. Almost as insulting as telling Marinette that her Ladybug side doesn't count and she should get no credit for being brave as that's not really her. Loving her only counts if a person falls in love while she's behaving in her most over-the-top, cringe, embarrassing way.

I don't know about you, but I would never want someone to hold me to that standard nor would I hold my significant other to that standard! It's perfectly normal to have things that you don't love about your significant other. In fact, I'd argue that part of the magic of a real, lasting romance is having someone who loves you even though you're not perfect. If you are looking for a partner who never annoys you or does something wrong, then you will never find happiness because that person does not exist.

Now that I've said all of that, I want to add that I do think that marichat, "love both sides" stories can be cute. It's just not One True Path to Real Love. It's totally fine if the square starts dating based on the things that they find attractive about each other and then just continue to be in love as they learn about the other side. If anything, that's normal. Learning about a person is what dating is all about! A good relationship is no different than a good friendship, you just get some bonus perks if you're into that kind of thing.

I'll also note that I'm not criticizing stories where Marinette feels like she's the "real" version and Ladybug is the fake because that's a really understandable thing to be nervous about. Tikki saying that shit? Hard no. Terrible mentoring.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[bunny-jpeg]

the redbull princess

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, mad!max, rough sex, chokehold, jealousy, jealous!max, slutty!reader, threats of baby trapping, dirty talk/degrading language, bruises & bites

everyone adored you. the angel, the dove, the princess of redbull. beloved by fans, drivers, even the british press had a soft spot for the princess. you even made the likes of toto wolff feel soft with your sweet smiles and positive demeanor.

max had the (mis)fortune of being your teammate, after checo's retirement you were scooped from alpine and given the sought after seat. you were magnetic, charming in ways that made you a darling, even when you failed to win a race. but, you were a winner. a princess in her chariot passing all the others on the track.

max just simply thought that a princess deserved her prince.

"maxie." you pouted as you leaned up against your teammate, "whatcha doing?"

max looked up at you. he was currently on his knees as he tried to set up his sim-racing for the weekend. he asked, "how did you get into my room?"

you shrugged, "don't think about it too hard. i wanted to see what you were doing! you didn't to lunch, so i got... worried." you gave a small laugh. there was a look in your eyes. you weren't here to check on max. not when you were dressed in a tank top, shorts with that thin gold chain around your neck. you played with it between your fingers, "you look like you need a break."

there it was. max chuckled as got up from being almost under the desk. when he stood up, he eventually had to look a little down at you. red bull's princess wasn't the angelic virgin that many assumed. you had a dark streak to you.

you had most of the paddock wrapped around your fingers. charles, george, alex, even horner. and especially max. a simple look got you everything you wanted. a laugh had many men a little flustered. so of course max couldn't help but wrap his arms around your middle and pulling you closer to him. he looked at you, his eyes were so blue.

you licked your lips, "what do you say, maxie... let's have a little fun before our weekend begins.' then leaned in to give his a kiss square on the lips.

the kiss didn't last long before max pulled away and held you by the back of the head. he looked at you, something jealous crossed his expression, "i know what you're trying to do. you think that you can get out of this with a few thrusts of your hips...it's cute honestly, thinking that you're so much smarter than you actually are."

you swallowed and realized that you were playing with fire at that moment. you felt your pulse quicken when he put an hand around your throat. not enough to choke you, but enough to get you looking at him. he smiled and you wondered what he had planned.

you really shouldn't have flirted with max's secondary rival. you shouldn't have been smiles and giggles with lando days prior. you whispered things into the brit's ear and giggled when you pulled away. you didn't get too far, he pulled you in and in a quiet privacy, he kissed you on the lips.

max could've killed lando over that.

you pouted a little more, "i said it was sorry, max. you can't be mad at me forever!" and max crowded your space a little more and looked down at you with something in his eyes that spelled danger.

he said, "no, i can't. but i can try." he took you by the hair, "so i guess you'll just have to make it up to me." and soon you ended face first on the bed. red bull's prince was often possessive of it's princess as he got into bed with you and pulled down your shorts. he pressed his weight up against you to keep you pinned down to the bed.

you moaned, "fuck, max. i'm sorry! i mean it! i mean it!" you tried to squirm out from under him as he got your shorts off of you and near ripped your panties off of you.

max frowned as he got his shirt off over his head, "sorry isn't going to cut it. you are such a whore, you like having all these drivers' eyes on you. i bet you've fucked top to bottom the grid." he raked his nails down your sides and watched you try to get out from his touch.

you whimpered, "no! no!" you knew that was a lie. if max wasn't going to fuck you tonight. you had a few other keycards in your back pocket. you were that charming. max was just lucky to be your first pick.

and you knew that he wouldn't give up the chance to sink into your poor cunt tonight. give you something to scream about. he stripped you of your clothes, tossed them off the bed before he was fully nude as well. he bit into your shoulder roughly as he sank his teeth in your shoulder and pressed himself further against you.

the indents of his teeth promised a bruise come morning. and he held onto you tightly as he moved at a quick pace. his voice in your ear with his chest against your back. there was no escaping max verstappen, "you know you can be a good girl, right? i know it's in you. the press think you're so perfect princess and you could be that if you just stop being a goddamn whore. i see right through the act, i know after a race you want this cunt stuffed. you want to squirm on my cock, you want it to hurt. because you are a glutton for pain. a disgrace to all women in the sport. you set them back by being a stupid, cock hungry slut." his words burned in your brain and you felt the heat pool in your gut.

you gasped into the covers and said, "please, max. holy shit. ah!" you knew that max was the best fuck in the grid. at least to you. most gave you the princess treatment or were worried about being too rough. you found them boring unless you were in a bit of a pinch.

but not max. the current world champion fucked you until there were sparks in your vision. he left your pussy soaked and your brain empty. he made all his degrading words ring true, you were nothing more than a soft cunt for max to fuck. that was why you always came back to him. he had that effect on you.

he was your favourite. not that you'd let him know that. as he thrusted up into you and left you feeling the pleasurable heat in the back of your head and down your shoulders. it was the buzz that left you shaking. it was the heated want that left you panting into the covers.

you were the princess, but max knew better than that. the smiles were all part of your little performance. if you had it your way, you'd be doing interviews with runny mascara and cock down your throat. but, you were still very capable on the track. one of the best they ever had, you just enjoyed having your world flipped inside out and upside down due to orgasm after orgasm. that max was more than happy to provide.

"please, max. fuck, please max!" you gasped loudly. your back arched, but you didn't get too far. you were rather stuck under max as he fucked up into you. the headboard rocked against the white wall of the room.

"you don't deserve the princess treatment they give you. the press give you. you don't deserve any of it! you deserve whatever you can get it. you let men much more powerful than you do terrible things to you." he wrapped his arm around your throat and continued to fuck up into you. the bed moved every more as he jackhammered his cock inside of you. your body bounced with each of his movements.

you felt stupid as he fucked you. your tongue hung out of your mouth a little as his cock hit against all against the right areas. he knew exactly how to make you crazy. how to make you feel so much dumber with strokes of his hips.

"but you're mine." he said, "in the end your mine. i let you play your silly little games, be the charming little flirt i know you are." he tensed up his arm around your throat as he continued to slam his cock in and out of you. the pace was brutal and the movements made your heartbeat hammer in your ears. he could feel every inch of you as he fucked you with a fierce fever.

you tried to say something, but the words died in your throat.

he chuckled and kissed the side of your face. then he pushed your face further into the covers. he still held you in a choke-hold as he fucked you roughly. he said quietly as the bed squeaked under you, "i'm not stupid, princess. you think i'm some idiot, but i'm not... maybe tonight's the night we end these little games. what do you say? maybe tonight you and i should make a baby... end these games and finally make you all mine."

you whined and tried to get out of his grasp. but he was simply much stronger. he chuckled and kissed you on the face once more as he quickened his pace. it left you feeling on cloud nine as he really worked himself inside of you.

the princess was at his mercy. such a shame.

with a few more heavy thrusts, you came around his cock. your noise was a high pitched as you clawed at the covers. you panted heavily and felt so pathetic under him. and he loved the sight of you, you looked beautiful. angelic. he had you all to himself.

"see, you can be a good! make such a good mother to my children. that'll fix you right now." he buried his face in your neck as he continued to fuck you roughly. he didn't last much longer, a few more heavy thrusts of his hips and he was finishing inside of you with a hot groan in your ear.

he kept his arm around you, a hold to keep you still while he fucked his spent cock inside of you to push all the cum further inside of you. the over stimulation let you feeling dizzy. and when max finally let go of you, you laid out on the bed like a dumb little toy.

he slapped your ass before he panted heavily beside you. you curled up next to him, there was a reason why he was your favourite fuck of them all. he took you by the jaw and you looked back at him.

"going to behave now?"

"yes, maxie."

-

max heard your giggled nearby and his head whipped around.

you looked at max out of the corner of your eye before you went back to kissing lando deeply. you smiled against the kiss before you said to lando, "why don't you come visit me tonight, we could have some before the weekend?' and winked at the other driver.

max clenched his fists and exhaled deeply. like hell lando was going to your room tonight. because by the time he got there, max would already be keeping those greedy holes of your filled.

he knew the last thing you wanted was the princess treatment. <3

[weebsinstash]

I'm drinking my yandere Justice League juice again because I keep thinking of all sorts of multiverse/timetravel plotlines because the superhero genre is genuinely so full of fun and weird and dramatic and sad opportunities

You accidentally get sent into another dimension and meet another Justice League who helps you return home! .... except you don't exist in their universe and now they really miss you and they keep coming back to your home dimension to visit and eventually try to take you away entirely, even willing to square up with "your" versions of themselves to do it

Reader who figured out by themselves how to escape a timeline where you were actually treated fairly poorly by the Justice League and they come after you because "oh, we promise we'll be different this time, and also we totally won't be extremely possessive because you have the power to leave us now, uhhhh dont you want to restore the balance, what if this uhhhhhh ruins the timeline, we better take you home"

Do we have any Re Zero fans in here. Have any of you seen where it's revealed every time Subaru dies, he's actually somehow joining a brand new universe/taking over another version of himself, or a new universe is being created, and that the universe he died in is just, forever like that now, it doesn't just blip away, everyone he was with or saw him die is now dealing with the after effects?

We could go two ways here: Reader dies a hero and the Justice League goes insane with grief and guilt that you sacrificed yourself or that they couldn't save you, OR, Reader just straight fucking kills themselves after a series of like manhwa-levels of betrayals and dickery from the League, maybe they even kicked you out or shunned you after some sort of mistake, and they're desperate to make things up to you when they find out you're still out there

Like, the trauma they experience when you die and they find out you're still alive and they COME TO GET YOU??? The JEALOUSY that you're WITH THEM but not with THEM? And then you just fucking say, "no thanks I want to stay here, I like my new life here"???

The GASLIGHTING. The MANIPULATION. It's all the more juicy when you think of the different depictions of time travel and multiverse shit because, sometimes time travel is depicted as super rigid, like if you fuck up the past you return to a completely different future, and sometimes it's depicted almost like string theory where any divergence is just a brand new dimension to hop between, so like... I dunno if I explained that well enough but, your former JL genuinely convinced something could happen but also trying to manipulate you by saying you not returning to their timeline could have terrible consequences, meanwhile here's like, New Flash, "technically if they killed themselves in your timeline wouldn't it, I dunno, break reality or something if you brought them back anyways" and your new Justice League, uh, definitely isn't willing to give you back either, especially if they mistreated you

New JL is convinced Old JL was abusive and doesn't appreciate you. Old JL thinks New JL are exploitative manipulative creeps who are taking advantage of you during a vulnerable time. Neither side thinks the other deserves you.

Also consider??? Platonic yandere JL vs romantic/sexual yandere JL???? Because that could be wild either way too? Like, the perspective is nuanced from both angles. Old JL being the platonic ones and thinking, you know, kind of what I just said about thinking New JL are creeps but like, ESPECIALLY thinking they're creeps, like manipulative EVIL perverts because what the fuck do you mean you 'took our friend' after they had this traumatic death and you all want to sleep with them and keep them in your new timeline, the fuck??? Give them back??? Or, the reverse, where New JL is like, "oh my fucking god what is wrong with you guys?? Reader is so cute and funny and nice and you're all so creepy, how could you ever want to sleep with this little cinnamon roll you perverted fiends, tf, no wonder they left you??? And now you're chasing them??? You guys are like demonic??? It's giving prison??? It's giving UNDER the prison???"

You've got one yandere Batman over here borderline Jojo posing, "Reader may not be from our timeline originally, but that doesn't mean they're not allowed the choice to make this their new home, you dastardly knight of darkness!" and meanwhile the other yandere Batman who is dressed entirely in black and not a speck of color on him is glowering silently and trying to formulate how to break every bone in his alternate's body in the most painful but nonlethal way possible

Both J'onn's becoming immediately shaken up as they read the minds of their opposition and their other self and realizing just how crazy they all are but especially what they think of you, memories of you, what they want to do to you--

Platonic Superman is doing his best to be nice, "I don't know who you think you are, but you're not welcome here and you need to leave" and the romantic Superman just fully unabashedly, "I'm the man who's going to marry them" and here's platonic Supes recalling how you've had dinner with him and his wife at his home and he's let you hold his infant child and now he's imagining you getting snatched away and goodness forbid impregnated by this 'clearly evil' version of himself and a little voice inside of Clark goes, "oh, I know who you are now :) you're the man I'm about to punch straight back through the multiverse"

Reader finding out both dimensions of Justice Leaguers are crazy and having to flee to a THIRD dimension and that's either another "friends to captors" situation or you just accidentally wind up in like, one of the many many evil timelines. Oh wow you thought dealing with Batman was bad? Imagine dealing with an Owlman who takes all of Bruce's typical traits and enhances the worst aspects of them to 100. Depictions of Owlman range from "this psychotic kid is the one who arranged the death of his parents to steal their fortune and he's sadistic and mean" to "this version of Bruce is SO literally-thinking autistic that he thinks only the 'original' dimension that all other dimensions stem from is all that matters and that none of the choices anyone makes or the things that happen in every other dimension even matters so why not just like, find Universe Zero and destroy it which would just staight up fucking kill all life ever, because what's the point in any of us being alive lol"

O-oh no, pleeeease don't kidnap me or goad me into sexually charged fights, evil alternate universe lesbian versions of Wonder Woman and Catwomn and Black Canary 👀 I'm so sensitive and fragile and delicate 🥺 I bruise like a little peach you know 👀 pwease dont pin me down and mess up your lipstick all over my face neck and collarbones, that would just be MISERABLE 🥴

Somewhere in a conference room in the Watchtower there's like a hidden meeting discussing who gets custody of you this upcoming weekend. Are you getting swept up in a throuple with John and Shayeera? Are you suffering through the company of a version of Batman who's a miserable alcoholic Thomas Wayne who has trauma bonded onto you and sees you like a surrogate child that his PTSD convinces could be killed at any moment? Are you gonna 'get a ride in the Flash Mobile'? Does a very loud and bombastic version of Aquaman want to teach you to be a better swimmer? They could argue on a schedule for hours until they all finally agree on some sort of spread sheet, but, let's face it: they won't be able to patiently share you forever :) the question eventually becomes, "who will be the first one to snap and betray all the others and take you for themselves?" who knows, maybe it would even BE The Question!

[figscigfigs]

my favorite moments of episode 14 of fantasy high junior year!!:

GERTIE AND KRISTEN!!!! (“we are… i’m afraid…. starcrossed”)

bucky is back!!!! he is so baby kristen!

kristen just casually using “photosynthekids”

the whole square up moment!!! (“what are you trying to forget kipperlilly”)

everyone buffing adaine so she can notice oisin

fig self producing the complicated woman podcast where she is every complicated woman, and the guy producer

gorgug just owning barbificer

the group locker room convo

all the bad kids going to support riz’s first game

RIZ FINDS THE ROUGE TEACHER (she’s the ghost teacher WITH THE STEAK FROM EP ONE AHHHHHHH!!!!!!)

“kristen-ha! what a gal!” (emily whispers across the table) “you don’t deserve her”

"if i had a copper piece for everytime the structure of my life was changed by a dance battle..." (i love you jawbone)

kipperlily having anger issues and a specific vendetta against riz

AYDA MENTION!!!

dawn of justice and fig guarding ankarna’s realm

big gorgug, little gorgug

“gotta do more emails”

“we’re hemorrhaging money on the groundskeeper”

“i found something of interest but i see you’re all crouched in the hallway with weapons drawn”

THE LAST STAND IS TOO RAD ITS SUCH AN INTERESTING GOOD AND FUN CONCEPT

the agueforts making out (i love you cait may)

all the minis are too good (the desks and monsters i could cry too cute)

“i believe in you spring break” “im having an identity crisis”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

With Love From

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~800

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request a Dean Winchester x wife reader that she spoiled and pampering him to much but she don’t cared and she love giving him love, attention, affection, and etc all things him always dreamed?. something cute and fluffy because him deserve all the love from the world. 

Summary: You take Dean on a much-needed vacation and give him everything he wants and deserves.

Square Filled: driving in the impala (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Got your pajamas?”

“Yes.”

“Toothbrush and toothpaste?”

“Yes.”

“What about your chargers? I put an extra one in your bag just in case.”

“What are you, my mom?” Dean jokes. “Yes, I have everything.”

“Okay, don’t come crying to me when you’ve forgotten something and ask to use my toothbrush. I won’t do it again.”

“That was one time.”

“One time too many. We’ve done a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but sharing a toothbrush is gonna be a no for me.”

“Yes, I have everything. Why are you bugging out? You’re never like this whenever we go on a hunt.”

Dean takes both yours and his bags to the library where Sam is. He has his laptop and plenty of books all around him. There is a case not far from here that he is reading up on since he is going to be the one to tackle this case.

“We’re not going on a hunt,” you reveal when he sets the bags on the table.

“What?”

“We’re not going on a hunt.”

“Sam’s been working like crazy about this case a few towns over.”

“Yeah because he’s going to be the one to take care of it. We’re not.”

“Sam, what is she talking about?” Dean asks.

“Dude, I am just as clueless as you,” he chuckles and closes his laptop. “All I know is that I’m doing this one solo.”

“If we’re not going on a hunt, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Dean practically whines.

“Well, you’re getting one today. No hunt. No monsters. Definitely alcohol. Does that sound like a great time?” you smile.

“Sounds like a Saturday to me.”

“Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.” You see the look on Dean’s face and immediately shuts down what he is going to say next. “If Sam needs help, he can call Garth.”

“Yeah, go have fun. I got this,” Sam backs you up.

You and Dean pack up the Impala and say your goodbyes to Sam who barely waves you two off. Dean is always the driver unless otherwise preoccupied, so he gets behind the wheel even though he has no idea where he’s going. You’re going to be the navigator for this special trip, only telling him what turns to make right before he needs to do them.

“Shall I put on the special playlist?”

“Special playlist? What’s the occasion?”

“I love you. Is that enough?”

“More than enough,” he smiles.

His special playlist consists of songs he could listen to on repeat for hours. Sam doesn’t let him put the playlist on since Sam complains he needs to listen to more than just classic rock. He claims they all sound the same even though each has their own unique sound.

About halfway through the trip, you stopped to get food at Dean’s favorite diner. He often comes here while on hunts even if it’s hours out of the way. There’s something about the way they make their burgers that has his mouth watering every single time.

“Okay, tell me where we’re going,” Dean chuckles with his mouth full.

“I told you it’s a surprise,” you smile. “You’re going to love it.”

Dean has no choice but to trust you. Once you two get done eating, you get back on the road and tough out the last half of the trip. You took over driving for the last hour just so he wouldn’t be suspicious of where you two were going but as soon as Dean sees the town’s name, he gets so excited.

“Wait, we’re in Mt. Sterling?”

“Yeah.”

You drive to one of the best gun stores in America. They have such a high rating since people from all over the country come here just to buy guns. Dean has been wanting to come here for a long time, and you figure it’s time to bring him. Dean is practically bouncing in his seat when you park, and he jumps out of the car in excitement.

You watch him run into the store with a smile on your face, and you make sure the car is locked before following him inside. He is like a child loose in a candy store or a toy store. He is admiring all of the guns on display, holding them just to feel how they would fit in his hands.

“Pick any you want. I’ll get it for you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you so much,” he grins and kisses you.

Seeing him so happy brings you so much joy. He doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to be this happy. He doesn’t allow himself to be this happy most of the time, so taking time to give him this is very important. He channels his inner child and goes wild. He settled on another handgun that closely resembles the one he has now, but it has a silencer on the end of it which will make for easy hunting.

After he got all that excitement out, you two headed to the bar across the street to have a few rounds on you.

“How the hell did I ever get so lucky?” he smiles.

“I’m the lucky one, my love. You deserve all the love in the world.”

Dean leans in and kisses you, happy to be yours.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Anyone that has breast tissue knows that shit can HURT . Like, o-u-c-h. And our darling Mikey from TR seem to like to push that envelope a little passed where it should have stopped. Listening to THIS playlist right now but got so hooked on #4 that I'm already tired of hearing it.

C/W ::: Rude bf, boob stuff (play, teasing, mean and not mean, sucking, licking, flicking, pulling - whatever I come up with along the way but that's the gist of it).

WC ::: 2,169 (actual body of fun reading part)

* Gets an unmistakable smirk on his face when you wince and retreat from his touch because he knows for the next week or so, your tits are going to be at their most sensitive. And he can't wait.

* Lays low for a while (hours, not days - because he doesn't want you to think he's up to something, even though he most definitely is.)

* Will hug you from behind and cross his arms over your chest and pull you close.

* Doesn't let go right away when you say "Ow, loosen your grip, my tits hurt."

* Turns you around and presses himself right against the front of your body and buries his nose in your neck, kissing you sweetly and softly.

* Absolutely comes off like he cares and like he feels genuinely bad for you but this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

* He'll pull you into the bathroom and turn the hot water on, making it a little hotter than you usually like it and tells you to trust him.

* You give him the side-eye because what the actual fuck is he up to right now. (You already know because he doesn't let a month pass since this started with him where he doesn't give your aching tits the attention he 100% believes they deserve.) But you go along with it because a hot shower would feel really good right now and neither of you have anywhere else to be - for once - so you play along.

* He undresses you like you're a porcelain doll that is about to shatter if he moves too quickly (don't worry, he'll start moving faster.)

* With each new square inch of skin that he uncovers he lays down the most breathtaking kisses. You can't help but melt under his touch.

* Once he's got you nice and pliable beneath him naked, he will take your hand and look you in the eyes like he still can't believe you're with him.

* He takes you into the shower and turns the water to a light spray (because oh my fuck, those harder sprays can KILL).

* Runs his hands over your body, not paying any attention to your breasts and nipples just yet, he's getting you needy and wanting his touch elsewhere (you both know how much you fold when he's playing with your tits in his special "Mikey way."

* He'll start at your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into the muscle with his strong thumbs.

* His dick starts to twitch to life when you let that first sigh/moan out.

* Knows he's on the right track as soon as your head falls forward/backward - that all depends on where he's standing.

* Asks you if that feels good - knows fuckin' well it does feel good, he just likes to hear you say it.

* Works his way down, kneading your lower back and buttocks - making sure to give them a cute little smack every now and again.

* Finally, he'll come back up and stand behind you, his chest pressed up against your back, his cock rubbing between your cheeks (but not in a "let me fuck you" kinda way - more in a "I wanna make you feel so good you won't be able to handle it" kinda way.)

* He'll snake his hands down to your waist and bring his arms around to your belly and slide them up to cup your tits - one in each hand, of course.

* You'll tense up for a second as he starts to massage your breasts.

* He'll ask you to relax and just enjoy the sensation, and that it's all for your pleasure.

* You'll lean back against him, letting him take your weight and he'll start to move his hands up and down, side to side, making sure to hit every inch of your chest.

* He'll tell you how he loves your tits - loves the way they feel in his hands, how they fill up his palms and then some.

* He'll let his thumbs brush over your nipples, slowly, gently at first.

* You'll shiver against him and he'll know he's onto something good here.

* He'll start to work your nipples over more - circling, pinching, flicking, and pulling - all still very gently ... for the time being.

* He is always on the right track, though. It's fucking Mikey. He knows more than he lets on sometimes.

* Will start to ask you how you're feeling - knows the answer but, again, wants to hear you whisper it to him.

* When you say it - whatever "it" is - he will turn you around and drop to his knees.

* His eyes will be dark and full of lust, but his touch will still be gentle - he knows you're already on edge and he doesn't wanna push too far/too fast/too much.

* First you'll feel his breath against your skin and it only escalates from there.

* He'll kiss your nipples, barely grazing them with his tongue.

* Then he'll latch on and suck, hard.

* Your legs will start to shake and you'll wonder why you didn't just let him do this to you when you had your period when you two first got together.

* He'll remind you, "There is pleasure to be had in pain, sometimes. It's all about context, mamas."

* Waits patiently for you to roll your hips forward because he is the king of calling you the right name at the right time - also, made a mental note that you like to be called "mamas" ONLY when you're ovulating/on your period. Something about the way he says it all breathy like against your ear or your neck or your pussy. The man could start his own religion and you're sure many would follow it to a T.

* He'll keep sucking and licking and biting at your tits until you're squirming against him, desperate for some attention elsewhere.

* He'll reach down and slide a hand between your thighs and start to ghost his fingers over your clit in slow circles.

* You'll buck against his hand and he'll let out a low groan.

* He'll pull back just enough to look at your face as he traces 8's over your, now really, wet hole.

* Asks you if you want him to put his fingers inside you.

* You'll nod and beg him to - you can't help it.

* He'll push two fingers into your cunt and curl them upward, hitting your g-spot just right.

* You'll moan so loud that you're sure the neighbors will be able to hear you. (Neither of you care what they hear, though. If they don't want to hear that shit then they shouldn't be listening.)

* He'll start to fuck you with his fingers, slow at first - and then faster and deeper, his thumb pressed against your clit.

* You'll wrap your arms around his neck and he'll hold you close as you come undone around his fingers.

* When you start to come down, he'll give you a minute to breathe before he gets down on his knees in front of you again.

* He'll spread your legs and bury his face between your thighs, licking and sucking at your clit while you thread your fingers through his wet, blond hair.

* He'll suck and slurp and moan against you, sending vibrations straight to your core.

* He'll push you back against the shower wall and keep going until you're cumming on his tongue, calling out his name and telling him to "never stop, never stop, never stop."

* You'll regret your choice of words because he WON'T STOP and you will have to literally push him away because you're too sensitive and you know he could make you cum a million times before the sun comes up.

* He'll give you that smug look that you can't help but love and he laughs and pulls you in for a hug.

* After you've both caught your breath, he'll wash your hair, his hair and both of your bodies.

* He still looks at you like a starved animal. His eyes are as dark as they were when he first got you in there and there's something so primal about how his muscles move beneath his skin. It makes you want to fuck him.

* And yeah, he knows. He sees you looking at his back when he reaches for the towel on the rack. You're so oblivious right now to things that otherwise make perfect sense that you forget he can see you in the mirror.

* You get out and dry off and he wraps you up in your robe and asks if you want him to rub some cocoa butter on your nipples for you.

* You nod and he grabs some from the cabinet and tells you to go lay back on the bed.

* He'll straddle your waist and scoop some out until he has a generous amount on his hands.

* He'll warm it up in his palms and then start to gently massage it into your breasts, taking his time and making sure he gets every inch of skin.

* He'll look at you like he's waiting for you to say something, but you won't - not yet. You know he's working up to something.

* He'll finally ask if you feel better and you nod.

* He'll smirk and lean down and start to kiss your nipples, one at a time, slowly.

* You'll ask him what he's doing and he'll just smile and continue kissing and sucking your nipples.

* He'll suck hard and bite gently, then pull back and blow on them.

* Your pussy will start to get wet (again) and your hips have a mind of their own (again) and he'll know he's doing something right (again.)

* He'll crawl around your body until he's positioned just right and start to kiss your neck, your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, and your thighs.

* He'll push your legs apart and tell you to keep your eyes on him.

* He'll get back down on his knees and push your legs further apart and start to lick your pussy from top to bottom.

* He'll bury his tongue in your folds and suck at your clit until you're begging him to stop.

* He'll push two fingers inside you and start to pump them in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

* You'll buck against his hand and cum on his fingers, crying out his name - repeatedly.

* He'll give you a minute to catch your breath before he starts to line his leaking cock up with your entrance.

* He'll ask you if you want him to fuck you and you'll nod yes, pleading with your eyes for him to fill you up.

* And he'll tell you that's not sufficient, that he wants you to tell him how badly you want his cock.

* "Wanna hear the words, mamas." He leans down and kisses your neck until you're practically crying from being so turned on. "Gonna give that pretty pussy a high-five with my cock, don' leave me hangin', love."

* You have no idea how you're completely and utterly enchanted by him, but you oblige and turn your head so your mouth is against his ear, "Mi-key, wan' you n'side uh'me, pl-please ..."

* He gets that cocky look on his face because he got you to do exactly what he wanted and he'll push into your pussy - slowly - inch by inch, until he's balls deep inside you.

* The way he moves should be criminal. Like, he hits you right every time - your clit, your whole pussy is so happy.

* He fucks you hard and deep and slow - then fast and shallow - then hard and deep again.

* He'll change positions at least five times, all while fucking you like he's never going to get another chance.

* You'll cum again before he even starts to get close, but he's not done with you yet.

* He'll pull out and turn you around, bending you over the bed and pushing into you from behind.

* He'll reach around and play with your tits while he pounds into you - telling you how much he loves the way they - and all of you - bounce and jiggle against his touch.

* He'll start to rub your clit again and you'll cum around him, hard and surprisingly drawn out.

* He'll keep fucking you from behind until he cums, filling you up and saying your name.

* He'll pull out and collapse on the bed next to you.

* You'll lay there and catch your breath, wondering why you didn't let him play with your tits from the get-go.

* He'll wrap his arms around you and pull you close.

* Asks you if you feel better now.

* You'll say yes and thank him.

* He'll kiss you softly and tell you that he loves you and he knows you love him too.

* You'll smack him in the arm and laugh. "Oh, so you think you can just get whatever you want because I love you? Is that it?"

* He'll shrug and tell you that he's just that good.

* And you can't deny that he is. So you'll snuggle up together and fall asleep with your tits pressed against his chest.

@katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @darkstarlight82 @viburnt @arlerts-angel

[gaybananabread]

•• @/Anon For the TT prompts, how about Lee!Miguel and any ler for day 5 or Ler!Peter B. with any lee for day 24? ••

TickleTober Day 24 - Joke

~This is the second half of a request for day 5. Not sure if the Anon will see it, but I still had fun writing this! Hobie’s little quips towards Peter were so casual and fun; I think they deserve more little moments together. If you’re seeing this, thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Hobie Brown

Ler: Peter B. Parker (& special guest appearance by Mayday)

Summary: Peter is in an extra corny mood, telling all of his best (worst) dad jokes. Hobie refuses to acknowledge anything funny about them, staying stubborn. With a little help from his daughter, Peter quickly finds a method to get him to appreciate the jokes.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

“Okay, okay, how about this one?” Peter chuckled, bouncing his little girl in his arms. Hobie was hanging out with the two that morning, and the father had decided to unload his favorite dad jokes to pass the time.

“I just read a few facts about frogs,” Peter grinned, giving the line a few seconds to sink in. “They were ribbeting!”

Hobie giggled through a groan, running both hands down his face. That was, like, the thirtieth dad joke he’d told within the past ten minutes. One man can only take so many horrible puns and cringe-worthy jokes.

“I’ll pay you ta stop.” The punk peeked out from behind his hand, seeing the goofy grin on his friend’s face. Peter was a great guy, especially when Hobie just wanted someone easy to talk to and chill with. Plus, Mayday was adorable.

The jokes, however, were killing him.

“They’re good! Mayday likes my jokes, don’tcha, sweetheart?” Peter held his daughter out in front of him, making her giggle and kick in the air. “See? She gets it.”

“She’s yer kid. She’s gotta ge’ it.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Peter’s reasoning. He doubted the toddler understood the concept of jokes just yet, but it was still a cute thought. “Lil’ bit pro’lly don’t even get the point o’ jokes.”

“Hey! Every Parker gets jokes!” Peter huffed indignantly, hugging his daughter to his chest. The girl squealed as she was slightly squished, wriggling in her father’s arms. “Watch this. Mayday, what do you get when you cross a bee with a sheep?”

The girl stuck her tongue out at him, studying his face. She was trying to figure out what he was saying, paying about as much attention as a child of her age could.

“A baa-humbug!” Peter made an obnoxious baa-ing sheep noise at the beginning of his punchline, making the toddler squeal in amusement. It was a good trick, Hobie had to admit.

“Aw, c’mon! She jus’ liked the sheep noise!” Hobie rolled his eyes once again, tossing his hands up in protest. The joke was so corny; it made it hard to laugh when all he wanted to do was cringe.

“You are such a downer!” Shaking his head, Peter hoisted Mayday onto his shoulders. He glared at Hobie, nudging Mayday’s little arm until she copied him. It was – unfortunately for Hobie’s resolve – utterly adorable.

“Cram it, ol’ man.” The punk turned away, crossing his arms as he hid a fond smile. He adored Mayday more than he’d like to admit, and Peter was a funny, sweet guy to hang around. Even if he did hurt Hobie’s brain sometimes.

“I’m not that old yet!” Peter’s shoulders jumped up with his protest, his daughter snickering at the feeling. “Oh, hush, you little scamp.” He scratched a finger down one of her tiny soles, making the girl kick and squeal. She tugged at his hair to keep her balance, which he was used to by then.

Actually…he might’ve found a way to show Hobie just how funny his jokes really were.

While the teen's back was still turned, Peter fired a shot of web at him. Hobie's spider sense buzzed a second to late, not really counting Peter's silliness as a threat. The thread hit him square in the back, yanking him towards Peter.

Hobie’s back hit the man’s chest, two strong arms quickly wrapping around him. It was a little awkward with the height difference, but Peter made it work. While Hobie may have had height on his side, Peter was stronger.

“Lemme go, ya geezer!” Hobie twisted and thrashed in Peter’s grip, but he couldn’t fight with his full strength; Mayday was still on the man’s shoulders. He didn’t want to risk accidentally hurting her.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Peter’s smug voice grated against Hobie’s nerves as he tried to pry the man’s hands off. "Why was the stadium so hot after the game?"

“I don’ care!” Hobie stomped his feet, trying to drown Peter out. Unfortunately, the man could just say it right in his ear.

“Nope! Because all the fans left! Eh, eh?”

Instead of waiting for Hobie’s inevitably underwhelmed reaction, Peter dug his finger’s into the punk’s hips, making him snort into a burst of loud, scraggly laughter.

“GAHAHAHAHA! FUHUHU- *snort* PEHETER!” Hobie tried to fold in on himself, but he was stopped by the man’s strong grip around his chest. He was trapped in a tickly hug with no viable ways out.

“Language! You know better than to curse around Mayday.” Peter shook his head before drilling his thumbs into the little pocket above Hobie’s hip bones, pulling a shriek from the lanky teen.

Mayday seemed thoroughly amused by all the chaos, climbing over her dad’s shoulders to reach for Hobie. She nuzzled her tiny head against his neck, her wily curls softly tickling behind his ears and across his neck. Hobie tried scrunching his shoulders up, only causing the girl to giggle and press closer.

“GEHEHE’ YOUHUHUR DEHEHEVIL- *snort* OHOFFA MEHEHEHE!” Hobie tossed his head around as carefully as he could, trying his hardest not to hit the girl on his shoulder. It was incredibly unfair, using her as a shield like he was. The teen had to admit that he was a bit impressed.

“Devil?! My little girl is an angel, thank you very much!” Gasping dramatically, Peter spidered his fingers up to Hobie’s sides and ribs. While the boisterous laughter was quite nice, he didn’t want to exhaust the teen entirely.

“I-Ihi dohohon’ wahanna ahaccidentahally huhurt heher!” Hobie’s cackles died down to pitchy giggles and laughs, his voice about an octave higher than normal. He made a good point, but the man still needed Mayday to keep him from fighting.

“You wouldn’t hurt her. I’d trust you with Mayday’s life if I had to. It’ll be fine.” Peter disguised a tease under the compliment, clawing his way up and down the punk’s sides. He really was enjoying himself; seeing the kids laugh was always fun.

“Y-youhuhu- GYAH! Youhu neehehehek!” Hobie nearly cursed, but Peter censored him with a quick scribble to the navel.

“Being mean in British is still being mean, Hobie.” Peter chastised him, tutting as Mayday went right back to snuggling her fuzzy head against his neck. Now that his reactions were calmer, the little squeaks and voice cracks came through perfectly.

“B-Brihitish ahain’t a lahahanguage!” Hobie’s shoulders scrunched once again, giving Mayday a little boost. She giggled from the movement, patting her small hands against his rosy cheek. It was adorable, making it near impossible for him to be irritated at her.

“So nitpicky. First, you criticize my jokes, and now you’re correcting me? For shame, Hobart, for shame.” The dad gave Hobie’s hips one more good squeeze, mainly trying to distract him from the fact that he’d just said the boy’s full first name. That usually got some not-so-nice words in response; he wasn’t looking to teach Mayday anything else that MJ would scold him about.

While the punk usually could’ve held on for much longer, his cheeks were getting sore, and he could feel Mayday slip a little with every big laugh and squeak. He knew Peter would never let her even come close to hitting the ground if she fell, but the teen was anxious nonetheless. He knew what he had to do…

Enjoy the ego boost, Parker.

“F-fihihihine! Youhuhuhur johohokes ‘re fuhuhunny!” Hobie finally conceded, trying to bring his squirming down to a minimum. He’d get his revenge later, no doubt, but peace was his only option for the time being.

“There ya go, kid!” He gave Hobie one last squeeze of a hug before pulling back, taking his daughter with him. Mayday whined at the break in contact, reaching out for the giggly punk.

“J-jehehez, ruthless ol’ bum…” Hobie muttered the words under his breath, meaning absolutely nothing by them. It wasn’t uncommon for him to exchange loving insults with his older friends and mentors.

The teen recovered pretty quickly, taking the squirmy toddler into his arms when he was able to breathe normally. She immediately cuddled into his chest, demanding snuggly affection that no being with a heart could deny.

“Yer lucky she’s ‘ere, or you’d be in tears.” Hobie calmly laid the threat out, slowly swaying to make Mayday smile. He loved the little rascal’s grin, especially the cute little gap between her front two teeth. While he didn’t seem the type, he really did love kids.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Peter huffed, knowing all too well how true that statement was. One thing that was always interesting about Hobie: he was willing to dish out whatever he received, and vice versa. It made for playfully fun slow days at the Society.

“It’s almost her nap time. Wanna help me put her down, maybe grab something from the cafeteria? I’ll pay,” Peter offered, gently nudging the boy’s shoulder with his own.

Hobie was quite peckish after all the goofy activity, and making Peter pay for things would be a step in the vengeance direction…

“Al’ight, yeah. Let’s go, gramps.” Cradling the sleepy little girl against his chest, Hobie started for the lobby. Peter rolled his eyes before catching up, reminding himself to steal some of the teen’s fries in retaliation.

Maybe he could even have busted out some of his worst burger puns, though they might’ve been too cheesy.

[starlaindisguise]

sorry 4 forgetting i could post here X___X life is lifeing! but the fixation wheels never stop turning……I GOT SUPER INTO LEGO MONKIE KID AGAIN AND NOW I AM MAKING IT EVERYONE’S ISSUE :D !!!

here are my traffic light trio human designs!! i thought really hard about all of the little details soooo lemme just yap about those for a sec :3

MEI )) Han Chinese (based off of her English dub voice actor) !! I gave her lots of piercings, particularly nose piercings (in recent artworks of mine I have drawn the nose piercings with more of a dragon shape) and this cool like…ear chain piercing that connects to pink diamond earrings! I made her jewelry gold to represent how much of a boss she is, and also just because yk, gold, winner, first place, status, AMAZING? I feel like she deserves to feel like a million dollars but that’s just me! Also, fun fact, pink diamonds are one of the rarest and most expensive diamonds in the world. Maybe she got those earrings as an offering, or made fake ones to look cool. It’s your choice! I gave her bright green dragon scales around her face. Her nails are pink and blue because it looks good with her outfit haha,, I also gave her an ace ring because I PROJECT. She has a few cute bracelets (M.A.D. being the most notable) and necklaces I feel like she’d like!! Honestly I just gave her my dream fashion sense

MK )) White + Chinese (Up for change. I like a lot of different interpretations of MK!) I gave him hair clips to push back his side sweep! I also gave him little earrings but not a lot. I don’t think he could handle too many piercings wjsjsjs- I gave him a trans pin and an aroace pin, just my lil headcanons (I guess one canon. TRANSMASC SWAAAAG) I also gave him patches on his jacket; I like to think that Pigsy taught him how to use a sewing machine and he’s addicted to it. That’s why he has the iconic symbol on his back in my heart !! He has a heart and a dragon that Mei gave him :) On his hands he has some eczema scars and hot oil stains from dropping the noodles he delivers,, and that’s pretty much it!! His design is pretty minimalistic because I had the least big ideas for him :3

Red Son )) Black + Chinese !! I gave her lots of piercings as well, but I made them silver and black to contrast Mei’s gold! There’s a whole bunch of them he’s saur pretty !! He has some scars on his hands :(( I wanna also shade in his arms to give him more like,,, burns?? From the impact of the Samadhi Fire?? That almost look like magma? Like the dark fade that a lot of great artists do (one of them being @mariiilume to follow them NOOOOWWWW) except BRIGHT RED…well I don’t wanna describe that any longer because I didn’t even draw it HA UUUUH…Gave her bull ears and cute teeth !! He also has some cute square black nails!! Plus I lengthened their hair. They have such majestic hair it deserves to shine.

[painted-bees]

August 12, 2008.

 Magritte had only ever heard good things about Vancouver's Granville Island and so, naturally, it was the first place she set out to find upon arriving in the city. The Greyhound station her bus pulled into had been only a short walk from the Skytrain that would carry her two minutes to Granville Station. And it was here that Magritte had the good sense to find a nice, unintrusive space to sit cross-legged and lay her old, faithful piano keyboard across her lap.

  The instrument, pulled out of its cozy bed from within her large duffel bag, was a well loved Yamaha PSS-270. Its dull, black, plastic body was covered in ancient, disintegrating stickers, and a generous amount of electrical tape served to hold its batteries in place.

  With an affectionate press of a button, she woke the machine up from its slumber, selected her choice presets and, with no specific setlist in mind, began to improvise a little tune. Something cute and fun, perhaps a little bit like Donkey Kong’s Stickerbrush Symphony in tempo and progression. Or just…”Stickerbrush Symphony”, wholesale, why the hell not? Improvisation melted seamlessly into the classic video game tunes that were fondly familiar to her.

The beloved instrument cradled in Magritte’s lap had been pulled apart and reassembled more times than she kept track of. But still, it held together and played its charming FM sounds dutifully. A tidy row of silver metal switches, lined up along the side of its body, were left carefully undisturbed as her fingers danced across the yellowed plastic keys. Magritte had learned very early in her busking career that the general public did not appreciate the unpredictable discordinance of a bent circuit as much as she did. And so that row of silver little switches connecting the data lines stood stoically in their ‘on’ position, not allowing for any delightful surprises, but also not deteriorating the synth-chip’s sound into glitchy noise on a bad turn. Perfectly vanilla, perfectly agreeable, endearingly nostalgic.

 She had placed an old ball cap upside down infront of her, tossing in a few quarters of her own as a way of inviting more from friendly pockets. Ideally, she’d play an hour or two and leave with enough change to buy a coffee. Not just a Tim’s coffee–no. She wanted a decadent foamy latte from a cute, artsy little cafe she could sit in. She couldn’t bear to walk through the streets of Granville Island without having the spare change to treat herself on an impulse. And so–she’d not leave the train station until the passing public funded her frivolous spending habits.

After all, it was her birthday. She deserved a little gift.

 Busking in a transit station was always a bit of a trade-off. It was a bustling place full of foot traffic but the people here were focused on reaching their destination; busy and preoccupied. In a place like this, Magritte had no expectation to captivate loiterers. Not many transit-goers could spare a minute or two to sit and listen while she hammered out her cheap little tunes on cheap little piano keys. And so, when a well worn pair of tan colored, loose-laced Timberlands entered her field of vision, stopping definitively to stand before her, Magritte turned her gaze upward to welcome the listener with a wide, sloppy smile.

 Without giving her brain time to register the face she was speaking to, Magritte opened her mouth to chime a cheery greeting. She was cut off faster than she could process his expression.

  “You’re in my spot.”

  The man’s voice was curt, and the cold annoyance in his tone was mirrored in the expression on his short, square face. Pale blue eyes looked down a sharp, slightly bent nose at her. His narrow lips were pressed narrower still in a stern line, framed by a full, sandy colored beard and moustache. Atop his head, long hair of the same light color was pulled back into a small, tight bun; more slick and tidy, but far less full than the sloppy bun that Magritte’s unruly mane of curly rust colored hair had been wrangled up into.

 Her dorky smirk dissolved with a few confused blinks into a slack jaw of nervous apology. “O-oh! I uh-s-sorry!” 

Her startled gaze snagged itself on the acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder, and the instrument’s exciting potential made her straighten her back with intent.

 She found her smile again. “What if–maybe we could jam? For a few minutes! And then I can scoot on outta here and leave you to it if you want. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance to–”

 “Do you have a permit?” His tone was unchanged by her eager proposition.

 “Huh?” It wasn’t that Magritte didn’t hear him, but she needed a moment to process what was being asked.

 “You can’t be here without a permit. Not the stations, not anywhere in Granville either.” The unaccommodating man took a few steps towards her duffel bag and used the top of his foot to lift and slide it away from where she had safely tucked it. “Get a move on.”

 Magritte protectively reached out to grab her bag as the man carelessly footed it out of ‘his’ space. And in doing so, she caused her keyboard to slide off her lap, forcing her to clumsily abort her duffel-grabbing effort in favor of clutching her instrument before it could somersault over the edge of her knees and land face-down onto hard ground.

 The man, it seemed, was done with words and had already begun moving into the small space that shoving her bag out of the way had created. She felt her face turn hot as she began to gather up her items. Any desire to engage the guy more than she already had was lost along with her nerve.

 As she relented to stowing her keyboard back into her duffel bag, an unfamiliar hand shoved a cold, unopened can of Coke in front of her face.

 “Here you go.” Another man’s voice. A softer one, this time. Magritte glanced up to meet eyes with the stranger who was offering her a free drink, only to gaze into a pair of red, plastic, star shaped dollar store sunglasses.

He gave the soda can a little shake, prompting her to take it into her hands. “Sorry I took long, I had to give someone directions to the aquarium.”

 “Is this…for me?” Holding the can in both hands, Magritte stared at the unopened beverage, unsure what to do with it.

 The new stranger leaned onto his back foot. “You said coke, right?”

 Before Magritte could stammer out a response, the new stranger turned his attention to the man with the guitar. “‘Ey, Kurtis. You mind, dude?”

 The unaccommodating man, ‘Kurtis’, had just started settling in, and looked towards the new stranger with an expression that appeared as perplexed as Magritte herself felt. He turned up both his palms in a slightly contentious gesture. “Didn’t know you were playin’ here again. I’ve had this spot for, like, a year. People don’t usually park here without asking me first.”

 “Okay, but you can’t just kick ‘em out like this, man.”

 “I didn’t know she was with you–”

“Doesn’t matter,” Magritte’s new best friend replied. “Sixty minutes. It’s not a long time to wait if you gotta wait.”

 Magritte, who had been watching Kurtis’ confidence slowly drain from his body with each passing second, turned to examine the cut of her spontaneous new accomplice. His hair was a shade or two darker than Kurtis’, and trimmed much, much shorter, with longer locks in front that fell in straight tufts over the tops of his ears and just past his thick, blocky eyebrows. His eyes remained obscured by the cheap plastic shades, and their childish novelty paired strangely with the well trimmed goatee that fanned out from under his lip to define the curve of his somewhat long but gentle chin. And he had with him a rectangular instrument case of…some variety. Not big enough for a guitar, not small enough for a flute. It didn’t give away the shape of the instrument inside, but the black oxford cloth and gold colored metallic detailings of its exterior gave it a classy, charming look she had not seen for an instrument case before. It was cute. Magritte wondered if such a style was available for portable keyboards.

 His hands, which wore white fingerless driving gloves, cracked open his can of sprite, and he took a casual sip while waiting for Kurtis to, “Get a move on.”

  Relenting, Kurtis shuffled away from the spot he had been deliberately crowding Magritte out of. With a snort and a nod of his head towards her, Kurtis said, “Can’t exactly play Paganini on a Portasound, Raf. What’s on your setlist?”

  Raf brandished a lopsided smirk and jutted his chin in the direction of Magritte’s upturned hat on the ground. “Put a toonie down and I’ll show you.”

  “Fuck off.” Kurtis’s scoff was accompanied by a laugh–one that sounded surprisingly genuine to Magritte's ear. “I came here to earn change, not spend it. But I’m curious to hear how the Ephrem Classical pairs with Toy Piano.”

 Raf let out a low groan that could have been mistaken for a growl. Moving into the corner that Kurtis had surrendered, he unslung his instrument off his shoulder with a shrug. “There’s plenty you can play on just forty-nine keys.”

 Being very confident about this fact, Magritte couldn’t help but provide her insight on the matter. With an enthusiastic lean-in, she interjected, “Yeah, like Kirby’s Dreamland!”

 Raf’s head flinched in her direction almost imperceptibly, and if she had caught the subtle downward twitch of his eyebrows that betrayed a pang of confusion, she might have felt a bite of embarrassment. But instead, she heard him agree. “Like…Kirby’s Dreamland, yeah.”

 He turned to look over his shoulder at her, his sunglasses mercifully hiding the bafflement in his eyes. Magritte beamed gleefully back up at him.

  “Well, have fun.” Kurtis levelled a stern yet somewhat pleading glance at Raf.” I’ll be back here in an hour. Don’t let anyone else move in if you leave early, please.”

 Raf simply shrugged and sipped loudly from his can of sprite in response.

  As Magritte watched Kurtis disappear into the foot traffic, she began to tentatively scoot back towards where she had previously sat. “I didn’t mind giving that guy his spot back, he was just kinda–”

 “A dick. Nah, I saw that. S’why I stepped in.” Raf had carefully set his instrument case down, and was in the process of zipping it open.

 Leaning slightly to get a peek at what he was playing, Magritte said, “Thanks for the pop, by the way! I can pay you back after. If uh–you’re actually gonna stick around and jam with me.”

 He pulled his instrument out of its protective cradle; a pale varnished wooden violin. “Don’t worry about it.”

Inside the carrying case, Magritte noticed two bows neatly stowed. The bowstrings on the bow Raf selected was a standard white color, but the strings on the one he left in the case were an eye-catching red.

“Truth be told,” tucking the chin rest of the violin beneath his chin, he played one string, and then two experimentally, “I don’t really play anymore.” His fingers closed around one of the tuning knobs at the head of the violin, but if he had tweaked it at all, it wasn't perceptible. “So it’s gonna be pretty rough. But uh…gotta commit to the bit, I guess.”

  Magritte took the moment to open her soda and enjoy a refreshing sip. “What kinda music do you normally play?” 

  “Classical,” he replied almost too quickly. “You?”

  Magritte hesitated for a second. She should have had an easy answer for this by now, but all she could manage was, “a bit of everything. Anything, really!”

  Raf ran his bow over the strings again to hear their tune before turning to look at her. “Yeah?” His eyebrows were raised, and his smirk favored one side of his face; an expression Magritte interpreted as incredulous. He fidgeted with a tiny, lone knob on the violin's body where the strings ended.

  “Y-yeah! I, um…” Settling her keyboard back into her lap, she turned it on. “You can just play whatever, and I can fill it in. I can improvise, I think.”

  Raf paused and stared down at Magritte’s little Portasound with a sigh much heavier than he intended. The thing was lacking, not just in keys, but in sound. It was a struggle to think of something he could play that she’d be able to accompany. The titles which did come to mind where…overplayed and would have to be simplified considerably to suit the keyboard's limitations. Weighing it in his mind, however, he decided that ‘simple’ may benefit not just the limited range of her instrument, but of her musical skill as well.

 He ran the bow over his strings to measure their tune one last time before tentatively, very slowly playing the first few crystalline notes of Für Elise. He felt a tension he didn’t know he was holding melt off his shoulders as he watched Magritte’s face light up. She curled over her little piano in a hurry to play his accompaniment. She knew this one.

  She picked a soft, more ambient sound from the keyboard’s voicebank, electing to quietly cushion the violin’s notes rather than chafe against them. It was…difficult. Her little yamaha and its quaint library of FM chip sounds did not get along nicely with ‘real instruments’ that were being played ‘straight’. It wanted to be weird and annoying, just like her. But the notes Raf played, while simple, were extremely clear in tone; neat and tidy. The bow did not once stutter on the rough strings, it glided with practised ease. And with a great deal of restraint.

  This guy…he was playing beneath his skill level. For her sake, presumably. Like a gentleman.

 As Raf brought Für Elise to a close with the last, steady draw of his bow, Magritte swapped her soft, ambient voicing out with an annoying music box sound, and began hammering out a choice section from the 3rd movement of Appassionata. Her fingers slammed the keys harder than was necessary, solely because she enjoyed the percussive sound it added to each obnoxious, feverish note. 

  Lowering his violin, Raf watched Magritte’s fingers flutter furiously across the mini keys with respectable precision. Holding both the bow and the neck of his violin in one hand, his free hand reached up to remove his sunglasses and he rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm. A humbled snort escaped through his nose. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Play any song.” Magritte slowed her fingers to a stop without completing the movement. “Even if I don’t know it, even if it goes beyond the range of my little piano, I can improvise something nice for it, I promise!”

  Fitting his sunglasses back on, Raf let out a tentative hum. “I’m not much of an improviser–”

  “You don’t have to improvise anything! Play whatever you want, however you wanna play it. I will improvise around whatever you give me!” Magritte’s voice had risen to an excited shout, and instinctively, she withdrew into herself just a little bit, as if making herself smaller would also make her voice smaller, too. “It’s my favorite thing to do. It’s a lot of fun.”

  His incredulous smirk returned, but this time his brow furrowed slightly, encouragingly, under his growing sense of intrigue.

  “It’s–” Magritte held up both hands haltingly, “it’s probably not gonna be like how you know it should be. Just…so you know. It might even be…bad? In some parts? But-! Mostly it’ll be neat! I promise!”

  “Neat…” Raf brought the violin up once again to rest under his chin. “Neat’s cool. Alright, let’s see, then.”

  As though he had been inspired by Magritte’s aggressive interpretation of Appassionata, he began with a series of fast, chirpy, clean notes of his own. A wholly different song, but Magritte recognized this one too. She had most often heard it as a phone ringtone, but she couldn’t recall who composed it nor what the song was titled. She provided a jaunty, equally bouncy accompaniment that she’d have described as ‘percussive’. The violin’s unwavering confidence was a delight for Magritte’s deft little fingers to dance around. He never fell out of tempo, and she was able to punctuate his notes with hers in perfect time. Maintaining synchrony for the entire length of the fast paced composition filled her with such satisfying joy, she had failed to properly appreciate an obvious fact about her musical accomplice until he brought the song to a close; he was a skilled musician.

  Staring up at him from her spot on the floor, Magritte’s wide eyes almost sparkled with delight. “You’re like…Concert hall good, aren’t you? Are you part of the local orchestra? Or at least like–aspiring to be?”

  Raf’s gaze hung on her as both his jaw and posture slackened. “Uh…” 

  She didn’t give him enough time to respond, hitting him with another question. “What was the title of that song? I just know it as one of the Nokia ringtones.”

 “P–” Raf’s stunned silence cracked with a laugh that sprang forth from his chest and took him by surprise almost as much as Magritte’s line of questioning had. “Paganini. It’s–it’s Paganini, Caprice number…number 24.” The response was punctuated with warm chuckling. “Or, you know, that one phone ringtone, yeah.” He smirked at her for a moment longer, studying her for any sign that she was putting him on. “How do you…accompany me that well, on that little machine, and not even know the song?”

 Magritte waved her hands in front of her. “No, no, I knew the song! I’ve heard it before, I just didn’t know what it was called.”

 “Yeah, alright.” He snorted one last incredulous laugh and brought his violin back up for another song.

 Magritte stopped him before he could settle on his next pick. “Do you play professionally? I mean, it sounds like it but, like–”

  “No.” Before Magritte could inquire further, the first notes of their next song filled the space between them, drawn out of his violin with long, purposeful strokes of his bow.

  The next several songs, Raf played seamlessly one into the other–without pausing for conversation. That was just as well for Magritte. It had been ages since she was given the chance to play music with someone, and never had she played with someone who was so…solid? Consistent? The real deal. Usually, she had to avoid getting carried away when playing with another person. It was very easy for her to close her eyes and get taken to places that her musical partners could not follow along with. But with Raf, she was finding herself challenged to keep up with him. Most of the songs he had chosen, she had not heard before. And so she needed to keep an attentive ear out if she wanted to pick out repeated phrases, and predict melodic trajectories.

  Finally, they arrived at the end of an especially eclectic piece, and Raf did not immediately follow through into another composition. Instead he lowered his bow, and Magritte took her opening to converse again.

  “I really liked that one. It was super janky, in a fun way.”

  “Yeah,” Raf said. “I was always fond of it, too.”

  “I liked the plucky bits. Did you write it?”

 “Did I–” Raf palmed both his bow and violin in one hand, and massaged his eyes and browline with the other. “No, some guy named Ravel did. Tzigane, that one’s called.”

  Magritte chewed the inside of her cheek. “R-right.”

  He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You knew that one, though.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “...You just let me solo the first four minutes based on vibes?”

  “I thought I missed the bus on it.”

  “The actual composition has no accompaniment until about half way through, so…bravo.”

  “Wait, really?” Magritte leaned forward eagerly. “Did I play the accompaniment correctly, too?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Drat.” She slumped.

  “Was good, though.” Raf picked up his sprite from where he had placed it, on the ground next to his case, and drained the last bit of its contents.

  Magritte perked up again. “Yeah!?”

  He held the lip of the empty can between his teeth as he began tucking his violin back into its carrying case. “Mmhm.”   

  Magritte watched him pack up for a moment longer than it should have taken her to realise, “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

  Raf zipped his instrument safely away before removing the empty soda can from his mouth. “Yeah, I gotta get going. But look,” He bent over to collect Magritte’s upturned ball cap off the ground. The few quarters she had started with now had a generous handful of friends with them; more quarters, some loonies, a few toonies and–

 Magritte accepted the hat when Raf handed it to her, and pulled a crisp twenty dollar bill out of it. “W-who left this!? I wasn’t even paying attention, I should have said thanks!”

  “A mystery.” He slung his violin case over his shoulder.

  Magritte urged him to wait, fluttering a hand at him. “Half of this is yours!”

  “Nah.” He favored her with a smile. “Genuinely, this was a treat in itself. It’s been a long time since I’ve played for fun like this. It…was fun.” That last part sounded as though it came as a surprise to him.

  Frowning, Magritte pleaded with him. “Okay, okay but–okay. Lemme treat you to a coffee then, at least? If you’re in no real hurry.”

  Raf paused to regard her with a measuring stare. He then sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black denim hoodie jacket, waiting for Magritte to stow her keyboard away into her bag.

  Zipping the duffel closed, she hoisted it with effort over her shoulder and beamed up at her new friendly acquaintance. “If you know any cute, cozy coffee places with a real decadent latte, I’m open to suggestions!”

  “There are…a few.” 

  “I’m Magritte, by the way!” She extended her hand out to him.

  With slight hesitation, Raf shook it. “Rafael.”

  As the two of them began to make their way out of the station together, he dared to ask, “Are you here visiting, or..?”

  “Oh!” She bounced on the balls of her feet, “I just came in from Calgary like…two hours ago. Ideally, I’d like to stay until the spring, but that’s gonna depend on things.”

  “Calgary?”

  “Yeah! I was in Edmonton before that, and in Winnipeg before that–but that was mostly a fever dream. I wasn’t there long. Montreal before that, though, was nice..!” She talked the entire walk, and he was content to quietly listen. part ii

[willowser]

my guilty pleasure trope is like. trash reality dating show au LOL

like you and bakugou on love island ??? HELLO ???? he is 100% the show-stopper that comes in as a twist at the very end, after everyone is already coupled up. thinking they're happy in their pair. ready to move forward and get to know one another. AND THEN BAM. bakugou katsuki. huge and tan and toned. probably a firefighter or something, been single for a long time because he finds it hard to put himself out there — and coming on live, national television was the perfect way to get himself out of his comfort zone LOL

let's say. you're coupled up with denki and you love it ! he's great and funny and charming and will make someone happy — but that someone is just not you. from the get-go, your relationship feels more friendly than anything, but he doesn't try to cop a feel on you in bed and he's a good snuggler and maybe you kiss him once, just to see how it feels, and that's not so bad either. but there are no sparks, no fireworks. you'd be content to even ride out the rest of the challenge in a couple, because he's comfortable, but that's not what either of you came on the show for.

after the first week, bakugou couples up with jirou. her sharp wit and dry humor draws him in enough (and he's always kind of liked that edgy look that she has) — but he very quickly realizes that she's really not that into him POOR GUY. bakugou really isn't her type; besides finding his attitude funny every now and again, they really don't have much in common. don't do much of the same things, share hobbies or interests, so it's a little bit of a bust.

i like to think you're just friends for a week or two. another guy comes in, two new girls come in, but nothing really changes for either of you. keeping your respective couples, just because no one else has really caught your interest — and it's not until a challenge has you kissing him square on the mouth that either of you start to take a second glance across the villa.

you watch him work out in the mornings, make a second cup of tea for when he's done. somehow, you both always end up in the same section, leaning back in the lawn chairs or sitting side-by-side on the beanbags as you chat about how the challenge has been going so far for either of you.

the part of this trope that is so funny to me is that — bakugou really is not the kind of guy that should be on this show LOL he's hard to approach and intimidating and if you don't understand his attitude, then you won't like him. and what little game he has isn't played like this: approaching someone in front of everyone else, nabbing you from your couple, having to put himself out there so that he doesn't get sent home. all while on live television.

but — it's not until you admit, casually one day, that you and denki are just friends that he decides to do anything about it. the two of you have gotten along so well in your couple that bakugou didn't think he stood a chance but after talking to you, he's awkwardly telling kaminari in the kitchen, alone, that he's planning on pursuing you. and denki thinks that's great ! thinks you deserve it !

the week continues on much the same: you and bakugou chat here and there, eat breakfast together away from everyone else, he makes you laugh and you make him smile his crooked little smile at the floor, embarrassed, as he tucks his face and pulls his hat further over his eyes. it's cute and you're having fun with him, but the recoupling is surprising, still.

when he has to stand up there, in front of everyone, red-faced, and grit out that you've caught his eye, that he's enjoyed his time with you, that he'd like to get to know you better — and you're floored. ecstatic, but floored. because he is certainly intimidating, and regardless of the fact that you were with kaminari for so long, you might not have ever approached bakugou, because he's just. so huge and handsome and striking.

and then you're settling in for the night, crawling in to your shared bed for this first time. and he's not like denki, not a cuddler, but you still make a point to wiggle around to him, wait until the lights are off and even breathing sounds throughout the room — and then you tell him, quietly, grinning in the dark:

"i'm really glad you picked me."

you feel bakugou sigh, a bit heavy, and you wonder if you're going in to strong — but then his hand skates over your arm, rests carefully against your hip, and he murmurs, "'m really glad, too."

i wrote this a lil bit ago and have since been made aware of luna's love island bkg !! 🥺 it's so detailed !! there's a whole show for the two of them !!

[amazingmsme]

One Last Laugh

AN: AAAAAH MY FIRST GOT FIC! I seriously had a blast with this one, Jon Snow deserves to be goofy & playful with his friends & Tormund just likes to be a fun lil menace. The angst really came outta left field with this one, but it’s still very cute & sweet! Hope y’all enjoy day 10!

Jon Snow couldn't possibly be more stressed. He knew they were severely unprepared for what was to come. They didn't have nearly enough men or weapons to defeat the nightwalkers, and he could sense the weight hanging on everyone's shoulders. The look in their eyes told him all he needed to know: every one of them was expecting to die. They'd look at their friends, not knowing which of them would go first. He would catch Sansa staring at him as though he were already gone.

He paced along the wall, grateful to be home, yet unable to truly appreciate the comfort. His mind was a swirling blizzard, clouding out all other thoughts until a voice spoke up from behind, rescuing him from his dark thoughts.

"There's a spider on ya."

Jon rolled his eyes at Tormund's failed attempt to scare him. He humored him and looked down at his clothes.

"Where? I don't see it."

He really didn't like the smile on his face...

"Right here!" Tormund yelled, suddenly reaching up to spider his fingers on the back of his neck. Jon made a strangled sound and whipped around to face him, staring at him with a bewildered expression and a spreading blush.

"The hell was that for?" he growled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"There was a spider, I'm tellin' ya!" he insisted with a playful smirk. "There it is!" he pointed before diving in to scribble against his side. He jerked away with a choked off laugh, leveling him with a harsh stare. Jon was thankful for the thick layers, but even that offered little protection.

"Fuckin' stop!" he snapped, snatching the offending hand by the wrist. He immediately regretted taking his anger out on him and let go, looking away. Tormund was different. He was crass, playful, and extremely bold, but above all else, he wanted to be entertained. He didn't hold it against him, but he had to admit it could grate on the nerves. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose in an effort to calm down. "Sorry, didn't mean to yell."

Tormund was grinning from ear to ear. "I fuckin' knew it," he said breathlessly before barking out a hearty laugh. "I knew it! You're ticklish!"

"I'm also very busy," he warned, making sure to keep a safe distance between them.

"With what? Standin' around staring at fuckin' trees? You looked downright miserable," he pointed out, stalking closer. Jon's pride refused to let him back away, and he stood a little taller, squaring his shoulders. If he took so much as one step backwards, Tormund wouldn't let him live it down.

"I was just thinking."

"Miserable thoughts, I'm sure."

Okay, that was a good one, Jon had to admit. He ducked his head with a shy smile, allowing a short chuckle to slip out. Tormund grinned wider and pointed a wagging finger at him.

"Aaah, I was right! So tell me Jon Snow, why do you like being so miserable?" he asked, closing the distance and slinging a heavy arm around Jon's shoulder.

"I don't," he balked at him, brows furrowed and body tense where he stood. Tormund sighed.

"Coulda fooled me," he shrugged.

"And I suppose you're happy right now?" Jon countered.

"I'm trying to be," Tormund huffed. He waited a beat, striking when he thought Jon's guard was down. He managed to dig his hand under his arm, drawing out a shocked peal of laughter.

"T-Tohohormund, stohop! Wehehe don't hahave time for thihihis!" Jon hated how quickly he crumbled, but he'd never been able to hold out for very long.

"Don't wanna laugh one last time before the end of the world?" he asked, adding his other hand to the fray.

Well duh, what kind of a question was that?

"Try telling aha johohoke!"

"None of you crows think I'm funny!" Tormund growled playfully, digging his fingers under his arms, fighting against the layers of clothing. "This is easier. And much more fun, don't you agree Snow?"

"Y-you're ahahacting like a chihild!" he half heartedly scolded.

"Oh yeah, because it's such a crime to have fun," he taunted.

Jon managed to twist around, snatching Tormund's wrists with both hands and pushing him away. His hair was tussled and he sported a faint blush, and for once, a genuine smile.

"You're bloody ridiculous, you know that?" he panted, trying to catch his breath.

"I've been told," he bragged in response. "And you're too scared to tickle a wildling," he challenged, yanking a hand free to shove his chest. His words were taunting, but his eyes looked... expectant? Hopeful? Like Ghost when he was begging for scraps.

Jon arched a brow, looking his friend up and down. "What?" he asked in disbelief, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. No way was he actually asking to get tickled. Then again, it was Tormund, and he was unpredictable like that. He's done crazier things. "Wait do you... want me to tickle you?" He just needed some clarification, and he's learned that it's best to be blunt with the free folk.

"Come on Snow, you act like you've never heard of a tickle fight," he teased, barking out a laugh as he bumped their shoulders together roughly.

"You call that a tickle fight?" he scoffed, unable to hold back a smile of disbelief. He remembered back when they were all just kids, how rowdy and rambunctious their playful spats could get. How one by one, they were all dragged into the fray no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. He had always tried to avoid it, unless of course, he had started it. But he normally didn't acted alone. If he struck first, Robb was almost always at his side, instigating and encouraging him every step of the way. Until he inevitably decided to turn on him and help one of their younger siblings. He knew what a real tickle fight was. "That's just tickling."

Tormund almost looked offended. "Because you didn't fuckin' fight back!"

"I didn't know we were playing this game," he hummed, stalking around him like a wolf.

He followed his movements with a skeptical eye, turning around to keep Jon in his sights. "Oho this ain't no game."

"You're right. It's more of a sport." He lunged forward, giving him no time for a counter attack before he swiped his feet out from under him. Tormund landed on his back with the air knocked out of him, still struggling for the upper hand, but that fucking crow was always quicker than he gave him credit for.

He grappled with Jon's hands, a determined look settled on his face despite his growing smile.

"That's more like it," he growled. Tormund grabbed his wrists, shoving them back, but he used his leverage to twist free. He flashed him a proud grin, "Remember, you asked for this." The bastard had the audacity to fuckin' wink at him. Ohoho, he was so in for it.

But Tormund didn't get very far in his retaliation before carefree laughter echoed off the stone walls, loud and unabashed. He threw his head back, writhing and kicking on the ground. One of his flailing arms managed to latch onto Jon's knee, squeezing like his life depended on it. It sure felt like it did.

Jon's leg jerked beneath the touch as he snorted out a laugh, ducking his head. Encouraged, Tormund's other hand shot down to grab his other knee.

"Noho, don't!" Jon barked out, drilling circles under his arms. Tormund yelled out a colorful string of curses, severely diminished by the surprisingly high pitched cackles that escaped him. He scratched blunt nails over Jon's kneecaps, and a choked off squeal filled the air. Jon wobbled on his perch as deep chuckles slowly morphed to frantic giggles. He snorted and fumbled to grab Tormund's hand, falling to the side.

As soon as he was freed, he rolled over to pin Jon to the ground. He put up a hell of a fight, and Tormund gave up on grappling with his hands. What was the point of a tickle fight if he couldn't fight back?

Not that he'd make it easy for him.

He scribbled his fingers over his belly, digging in at random to make his laughter turn to cackles.

Jon threw his head back, allowing himself a second to just let go and enjoy this fun, goofy moment with a good friend. He closed his eyes, and he was a child again, rolling on the floor between his siblings with a forced, yet still completely genuine smile on his face. He was chasing Arya and Rickon through the winding halls, wiggling his fingers and yelling threats. So many memories flooded back. Revenge for the perfect prank, cheering him up when he felt like an outcast, attacking him just for the sake of it...

It had all seemed so mundane back then, and dare he say, stupid at times. But he never realized how cherished those memories actually were to him until he came to The Wall, until he lost half his family. Never again would he see Rickon's sweet smile with shining dimples, or hear Robb's deep, boisterous laugh. He almost envied it.

Robb was loud and unashamed in everything he did, and he never bothered to try masking his laughter. Jon was the complete opposite, quiet and reserved at all times. All of his siblings liked to poke fun at it, begging him to let loose, and he always would brush them off. Even when giggling helplessly, his voice remained a fairly even tone. Only now does he realize all that annoyance and playful torment had been out of love. All they ever wanted for him was to feel free, and happy, and... loved.

He didn't appreciate it the way he should've back then. He wasn't about to do the same now.

Tormund would never say it, not in a million years, but he was scared. He could see it in the way he paced like a caged animal. He was nervous and twitchy, and he spent most of his time following Jon around aimlessly. But the most telling part were his eyes. It's always the eyes.

He was scared, and he needed a friend. He needed a laugh. To throw all his cares and worries away, if only for a moment.

He finally mustered up the strength to reach up and grab his hips, squeezing relentlessly. Tormond swore as he lost his balance and came crashing down on top of Jon. He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, but he continued with his mission.

The wildling shrieked when fingers spidered their way over his ribs before diving beneath his arms. He snorted, which opened the floodgates for booming hysterics. Jon's smile was tinged with sadness.

Nothing was certain. They weren't guaranteed tomorrow, so they would make good use of the air in their lungs while they were still breathing.

One last laugh at the end of the world... Yeah. He could give him that.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Raphael Hypnosis ♡

Your Raffie was so cute and easy to embarrass, you liked that about her, you could order her to lick the floor beneath you in the middle of public and she'd blush and be flustered but she'd do it anyways because you were a goddess to her so it didn't matter how you humiliated her, you deserved to get exactly what you wanted but that grew old quickly, it was fun the first hundred or so times you made her kneel for you in public, stepping on her back with your heel where the whole royal council could see their most high ranking member being humiliated like that but eventually everyone got used to the sight and you needed something more intense, and you knew your girlfriends every nook and cranny like the back of your hand with how long you'd been torturing her in the bedroom so hypnotizing her to cum just from your command was really no sweat at all and it was much funner this way, making it so she had to come whenever you clicked your tongue and ordering her to not let anyone know, it was a power that you loved abusing whenever you could. Really you just wanted to see how long it would be until she was unable to pretend nothing was happening, sure she was good at hiding it the first few times but after you gave the signal ten times really quickly her legs would shake and she'd have to come with a reason she was like that in the middle of a council meeting, it was very enjoyable to watch honestly, the poor thing biting her lip so hard that her fangs pierced her own skin, you sat on her lap like always, her hands digging into themselves because she would never allow her nails to dig into you of course, her underwear likely ruined from how many times you gave the command.

"Is something wrong there, Raphael?" The crown princess asked, you were pretty sure she'd caught on already though if she had, she never said anything about it, she seemed to enjoy how much Raffie was tortured by you, not that your Raffie would suspect you were trying to break her, she just saw herself as a loyal servant carrying out her beloved mistress's orders.

"N-no your highness, everything is alright. H-how could it not be when-" You clicked your tongue at her causing her to pause and bite her lip before letting out a shaky breath and continuing. "I have my b-beloved s-sunflower with me."

"If you're sure, present your plan for renovating town square next then, Raphael." The crown princess laughed a bit, locking eyes with you, honestly you didn't care if she knew, just as long as she didn't mess with your fun.

[7ndipity]

Arcade Date

Jimin X Reader

Summary: When you worry that you've screwed up on an important exam, Jimin decides to try and cheer you up with a cute date at the arcade.

Warnings: Swearing, lil suggestive,

A/N: Thanks to @minnie1013 for this request! Sorry it took me a lil while to get to it, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You're expression was noticeably deflated as Jimin picked you up for date night following your last class of the day.

“Hey, how’d the exam go?” He asked sweetly, pressing a kiss to your temple as you climbed into the passenger seat.

“Don’t ask.” You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Was it bad?” He asked, frowning.

“It felt like my brain went through one of those rug cleaning machines. I bombed, I’m sure of it.” you groaned, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

You don’t know that, I’m sure you did your best.” He said reassuringly. He felt so bad for you, he’d seen how hard you’d been studying lately in preparation for this test. You’d been running yourself ragged, staying up till all hours of the night to cram whenever you could. “When do the results come out?”

“Next week.” You mumbled. “Ugh, I don’t know, can we just talk about something else, please?”

“Sure,” He agreed easily, eager to distract you. “How ‘bout we talk about the fact that you haven’t kissed me in almost six hours and I’m about to die from withdrawals?”

You let out a tired huff of laughter at that. “Alright, you big baby.” You said, finally giving him a smile, albeit a tiny one, before leaning over and connecting your lips to his, instantly feeling your body start to relax at the familiar feel of him against you.

You pulled back suddenly, looking up at him curiously as you licked your lips. “Are you wearing my chapstick?”

“Um, Maybe.” He admitted, avoiding your eyes.

“Would you stop stealing my shit?!” You shoved him lightly, laughing in disbelief.

“It’s not my fault you pick better flavors than me!” He tried to defend with a pout. “And I didn’t steal it, you left it at my place the other day.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

The rest of the drive to his place was somewhat quiet, it was clear you were still feeling down, staring silently out the window, lost in thought, while Jimin tried to wrack his brain for a way to cheer you up. Struck by a sudden idea, he made a quick left turn, drawing a curious look from you as he changed routes.

“I thought we were going to your place for dinner?” You asked.

“Change of plans, I’m taking you out.” He said simply.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” He said, giving you a mischievous look before turning his attention back to the road, biting back a grin.

Several minutes later, you pulled up outside a familiar building with various game posters plastered on the windows.

“The arcade?” You looked at him in surprise. “We haven’t been here in ages.”

“I know, but I figured you deserve some fun, so here we are.” He said.

“Chim, I don’t know…” You said.

“C’mon, it’ll be good to take your mind off things. Or are you afraid of me beating you at DDR?” He smirked, raising a brow at you in challenge.

“Oh, you’re so on.” You replied.

The two of you spent the next couple hours squaring off against each other in various games, starting out light-heartedly enough, until you started to get overly competitive and started to attach increasingly ridiculous bets to each game, from having to pay for the all snacks to Jimin having to give you a lap dance for beating him at DDR.

“That one was a joke though, right Y/n?” He asked out of breath, growing nervous at your silence. “Y/n?!”

Before you could leave though, Jimin made it his mission to win you a plushie from the claw machine, spending easily twice the amount of money that the toy was actually worth in his attempt to succeed.

“Jimin, it’s okay, you really don’t have to-”

“Aha!” He yelled victoriously, holding the plush animal up in the air as a trophy before presenting it to you. “For you, my love.”

“Aww, it’s so cute!” You cooed, accepting the toy and petting its head. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” He asked, examining the toy closer. “Is it a bear or a dog?”

“It doesn’t matter, he’s our child and I love him!” You said, making his heart melt as he watched you hug the toy to your chest.

“What?” You asked, catching his expression.

“Nothing, it’s just nice to see you happy like this.” He said with a small smile.

“I’m always happy when I’m with you.” You said softly, feeling shy for some reason at that admission. “Anyway, what should we name our child?”

“Greg.” He replied without hesitation.

“GREG?!”

“What?!”

“Does he honestly look like a Greg to you?” You asked incredulously.

“You try coming up with something better, then!” He said defensively.

You thought for a moment. “B-Bartholomew.” You said slowly.

“Absolutely not.” He rejected. “That sounds like a 17th century tailor.”

“That was my grandfather's name.” You retorted.

“It was not!”

You continued to argue all the way back to the car, before you paused to look up at him, admiring the way he managed to look gorgeous even under the artificial glow of the streetlights.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?” He replied, turning to look at you.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said, smiling softly. “You were right, I needed this.”

“Of course." He said, gently grabbing hold of your hand. “You know anytime you need a pick-me-up, I'll be there for you."

“I know.” You said, pushing up on your tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his lips.

You don’t know what you did to deserve Jimin in your life, but you would be forever grateful to

have him.

[berryhobii]

I just want say I love your writing! Like I have never related to any work more than yours! You’re doing something special for black army and I just want thank you for that! Hope you’re doing well and I wish you the best and a million dollar lottery ticket girl! 😄😂🫶🏾

(P.S if you feel like it and if you get a chance please write more for Yoongi 💔 us Yoongi Stans starving and having withdrawals 😪)

Wow! Thank you so much for your kind words. They really mean so much. I’m so glad I could bring more representation and I hope you feel good reading my works.

Here’s a special little something for you Yoongi stans🥰🩵

~

“I don’t think this looks right, Yoongi.” You pouted, twisting your body every which way in the mirror. Your hands tugged at the top of the dress as if trying to magically make it fit the way you wanted it to in your head.

Yoongi, who was sitting outside typing some quick minute work emails, said, “I’m sure it looks fine, lovely. Come out and show me.”

Sighing, you turned around to open the dressing room door, stepping out to show your sugar daddy turned totally exclusive boyfriend one of the dresses you’ve chosen. It’s the 8th one you’ve tried on but you didn’t really like any of them. What you thought would just be a cute little date had transitioned into a full blown shopping spree. Yoongi pulled up to your apartment, your favorite Starbucks drink and snack already waiting, and whisked you away to the luxury district of Seoul. Hand in hand, he led you into stores, wanting you to pick something out in each one.

“You deserve it after being asked to take over the north branch of the company. I want you dressed like you own that place.”

So to Cartier, Gucci, and Zara you went to get you an entirely new wardrobe worthy of your position. To be honest, you stopped shopping for work a little while ago and now you were just choosing dresses for fun nights out.

For someone as accomplished as you, a sugar daddy probably seemed like overkill. You’ve managed to rise in the ranks at your dream job, getting a managerial title in less than 2 years. No doubt you had enough money to support the lifestyle Yoongi was giving you. Truthfully, this relationship didn’t start as a sugar daddy sugar baby thing. Your friends had taken it upon themselves to sign you up for a singles mixer—you know, one of those events where a bunch of single people went to try and find dates. You talked for about a minute before a bell rang and you moved on to a new stranger. Stuff like that really wasn’t your cup of tea.

What your friends had conveniently left out that it was a singles mixer exclusively for sugar daddies and sugar babies to find each other. Imagine your surprise when you and a couple of your friends rolled up to the bar, only to find a gaggle of late middle aged and older men sitting around the tables. You almost broke your ankle trying to run back out but your friends forced you to the bar for a drink.

Before you knew it, you were going through the rounds of meeting a lot of gentlemen that reminded you of your uncles. Gross.

So when you finally came across Yoongi during the last round, you thought maybe this thing wasn’t so bad.

One thing led to another and now you and Yoongi had been together for a little over 2 and a half years.

He had captured your heart with his clever remarks and charming personality. And he was very easy on the eyes. Not to mention, he was only a couple of years older than you with his very own successful law office.

And you had caught his interest with your timeless beauty and charisma. He doesn’t think he’s laughed as much in his life as he does when he’s with you. You were just so lovely and honest and sweet. It was hard not to fall for you.

Now seeing you in that dress, Yoongi thinks he was falling even deeper.

His mouth dropped at the sight of you in the mid thigh navy blue dress—long sheer sleeves and square cut at your chest to show the gorgeous expanse of your chest.

“Do you like the sleeves? This dress definitely isn’t for the workplace but it’s very nice.”

He wasn’t even listening to what you were saying, eyes going down to your ass. The dress had a deeeepppp incline, the open back stopping just above the curve of your ass. Everytime you shifted from foot to foot, your ass jiggled a little and you both knew you were wearing the tiniest pair of panties.

Fuck.

“Yoongi?” You had asked him a question three times with no answer.

Turning around, you found him standing right behind you, flinching a little at his sudden closeness. “Y-yoongi?”

Suddenly, his lips were on yours, his body crowding all of your space. It took you a moment to respond but you did, kissing him back just as fervently and desperately.

You pulled back to whisper, “what’s gotten into you?”

His dark eyes sent shivers down your spine and right to your pussy which was already wet from him fingering you in the car on your way here.

“You.”

His rough hands pushed you back into the dressing room, barely managing to close the door behind him before he was back on you. Deft and experienced fingers ran up your bare back, goosebumps popping up in his wake, his lips trailing across your jaw and neck.

Your own hands went straight to the waistband of the loose pants he was wearing. He normally wore suits so seeing him casual was secretly a favorite look of yours.

“You look divine in this dress. I’m buying you one in every color.”

You giggled at his words but you knew he was probably serious. He’s done the exact same thing with a lingerie set you surprised him in on his birthday. The way the white lace set made your dark skin look even more sinful and delectable than it already was should be considered a crime.

“I’ll wear whatever you want.” You leaned closer to be right next to his ear. “My body is yours, sir.”

His eyes rolled back, both at your tone and the name you called him. God, you were so sexy. And all his.

“Then get on your knees and suck my cock. Show sir that you’re grateful.”

Falling to your knees, you took the elastic off your wrist to tie up your knotless braids, happy you sprung for a style that could easily be put up when you wanted to pleasure your man.

Yoongi helped you get some of the stragglers in the back before holding your hair for leverage. You both knew where this was going.

Eyes locked on his, you pulled his pants and underwear down, his hard cock springing out from its confines. Your warm palm encased him, a sigh falling from his doll like lips.

Gathering spit in your mouth, you opened your lips to take him all the way in to the hilt.

Yoongi’s head dropped back as the heat of your mouth surrounded him. His hand gripped your ponytail tighter, keeping you down and letting your tongue work over him.

“Oh my god…..” he huffed out, pulling your head back so that only the tip was resting against your tongue.

Your nails scratched up his thighs. “Fuck my mouth, baby. Give it to me.”

That was his breaking point. Using both hands to hold either side of your head, he began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat, patting yourself on the back for training your gag reflex during quarantine. You know………..for when you could go back out and mingle….anyway.

Your eyes remained focused on Yoongi’s face, your pussy clenching at the sight of his tightly shut eyes and dropped mouth. His long hair had fallen out of his manbun, the strands sticking to the building sweat on his forehead. Your fingers itched to hold onto that bun and ride his face until his neck hurt. Maybe once you got home.

Yoongi forced you to take all of him in, holding you there for a few seconds before pulling back and doing the same thing. Eyes watering from the assault on your throat, you let Yoongi use your throat however he liked. You were his and vice versa.

“Fuck….” Yoongi yanked your head back off of him, his orgasm feeling too close already. “Stand up.” He shakily breathed out, holding out his hand to help you to your weak legs. He placed a quick kiss to your lips, wiping away the drool that had slipped past before turning you around and pushing you against the mirror. You took a moment to look at your disheveled appearance in the reflection—your edges had began to curl back up, your pupils dilated and slightly unfocused, and the dress had became slightly skewed from all of your heavy petting. You looked a mess.

Not time to think about that now though. It didn’t take long for Yoongi to have your dress pulled up and your panties around one of your ankles. He also pulled the front of your dress down to allow your breasts to spill out, your already soaked cunt was practically screaming for his cock.

The mirror was fogged up from your breath, the cool glass making your nipples harden. “Fuck me, baby.” A sharp slap came down on your ass, the fat jiggling under the force.

“Don’t rush me.” His gruff voice said. And you’d be lying if you said that little show of dominance didn’t get you wetter than that scene in Step Up.

After moving your hair over your shoulder, Yoongi’s hand grabbed your shoulder, the other holding his cock to line up with your awaiting hole. You spread your legs a little more, arching your back to give him more access.

He didn’t give you any warning before he was diving into your wet cunt. Your mouth dropped as his cock stretched your tight walls, the overwhelming girth knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

“Oooooo…..Yoongi…..fuck. That cock’s so fucking big.” You gritted out, resisting from punching the mirror.

Yoongi inhaled a deep breath, trying not to cum as your silky walls tried to milk him for everything he was worth. The effect you had on him was just too strong. Only you could push him to the brink that fast.

Once he had calmed himself, Yoongi started a pace that could only be described as animalistic. The absolute force of which he was pushing his hips against your ass was causing a clapping noise so loud that you thought there were people giving you two a standing ovation.

An almost shriek like moan flew from your lips but Yoongi slapped his hand over your mouth to muffle it, one of your hands going up to hold onto his and the other squeezing your breast.

“Quiet.” He spit. “You want everyone to know I’m in here fucking you like a slut? Huh? Is that what you want?” His hips never slowed down as he spoke, pushing deeper and deeper until it felt like he was in your guts.

Your eyes crossed as his cock bullied your sweet spot, orgasm building faster than ever. His degradation along with the fact that you two could be caught at any moment was enough to propel you right over the edge.

Your knees buckled, Yoongi’s arm going out to wrap around your waist to keep you up.

“Good girl. Look at yourself while you cum.”

Your bleary eyes, that you didn’t even realize you had closed, slowly opened to look at your reflection and the sight sent you straight there.

Yoongi was staring directly at you, those panther like eyes making you feel so open and vulnerable. Both of your hungry eyes begging. Out of all of your moments with Yoongi, times like this really reminded you of just how much he had broken down your walls. He brought out a sexually adventurous side of you that you didn’t even know you had and you were actually grateful for it.

Or maybe you were just dickmatized…..eh.

Your pulsing walls were squeezing Yoongi’s cock hard enough to almost break it off, his own orgasm feeling incredibly close.

“Get back down.” He pushed you back down to your knees, your body quickly turning despite your orgasm still making you feel weightless. He just commanded your body that way.

Like it was muscle memory, you opened your mouth and held out your tongue, your hand coming up to take hold of his shaft. You pumped his fast, making sure to squeeze him at the tip just how he likes.

Yoongi’s eyes clenched shut, his breath labored as his orgasm got closer and closer. He braced his hands against the mirror behind you, his knees ready to give out much like yours had.

You couldn’t help but focus on the sexiness of your man’s face. It honestly made you want another round but you had something else to focus on.

“Fuck…..fuck….I’m cumming, love. Oh shit.”

“I want it. Give it to me.” You sucked harshly at his tip, still pumping him quickly.

With a moan and a full body shudder, Yoongi’s cum hit your tongue, the saltiness familiar. You continued to suck until he was recoiling from sensitivity.

He reached a hand down to tap against your chin, your head tilting back and eyes staring directly into his.

“Show me.”

You opened your mouth to show his release on your tongue. His hand dipped your chin, thumb pulling at your juicy bottom lip—his own lip pulling between his teeth.

“Swallow.” And who were you to deny?

Swallowing his cum down and then opening your mouth to show him you obeyed, you got a hum of approval from him.

You both took a moment to regain your breaths. Yoongi held out his hand to help you stand, pulling you into a hug. You sighed as his warmth seeped into your skin.

“You okay?” He asked you after a brief moment of silence.

You hummed. “Perfect. I’d have to say, I’m shocked you’re into public displays. What happened to that whole ‘your moans are only for me’ thing?” You teased. You could imagine him rolling his eyes.

Before he could give you a smart mouthed retort, a knock on the door caused both of you to scramble. You practically pushed him away to adjust your dress as Yoongi yanked his pants back up and fixed his hair.

“Um, yes?” You tried to call out in a normal voice, tone a bit hoarse from the recent exercise.

“Is everything fitting well? Should I bring you another size?” The polite voice of the associate asked.

You made eye contact with Yoongi, a cheeky smile spreading across his face and making you laugh.

“Uh, could you actually get me this same dress in all of the available colors? I’ll be purchasing them.”

[msweebyness]

My Top 10 Young Justice Ships

Hey y’all! Here’s a new little series I’m doing, where I give you my top ships from series that I’m a fan of! I’ll drop a poll sometime soon of which fandom you want me to do next! @imsparky2002 @artzychic27

1. SPITFIRE. Forever and always. Wally and Artemis were such an amazing couple, and the ending of season 2 will always make me cry like a baby. They complimented each other so well and balanced one another out. Don’t get me wrong, I like Artemis’ new BF, he seems nice, but…he’s not Wally…

2. Blue13. We may not get to see much of them, but damn it they made Jaime and Traci’s dynamic so cute and I wanted to see more!!! They had this easy rapport that was so sweet and funny! (Also we were ROBBED when they didn’t show us Jaime reacting to Traci taking part in the Dr. Fate deal. I mean, how similar is that situation to him being put on mode?!)

3. Zetaflash. I. Love. These. Two. And I hate that Greg wasn’t allowed to confirm them in the show. (Though I respect the hell out of him for the fact that he made Atlantis as queer as possible in rumored retaliation. 😂) I just loved the exchanges they had in the episodes they were shown, and I’m a sucker for the Straight Man-Zany One dynamic.

4. Kaldur+Wyynde. These two may have been unexpected, but damn if they weren’t beautiful. I love how Wyynde supports Kaldur but also worries for him and tries to get him to slow down a bit before he burns out. Love these two!

5. Forager Squared. Cuteness personified. 10/10. Every moment these two were together was adorable. 🥰 🥰🥰

6. La’Gaan and his partners. Not only do I love the polyamory representation, they have such a wholesome dynamic, and La’Gaan deserved happiness! (Screw you, I’ve always liked him.)

7. WonderStatic. Cassie and Virgil have such a fun dynamic and I loved the hints he had a crush on her. She deserves better after the crap Tim pulled.

8. Zatanna+Rocket. Don’t judge me. They have an awesome dynamic and give off kickass Gf vibes.

9. Gardita. They were sweet together and really seemed happy. Wish they had stayed together.

10. Supermartian. They were adorable in Season 1, and I was happy to see them married at the end of Season 4, but all that mess significantly downgraded them for me.

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!