#this isn’t my actual team but it’s pretty fuckin close

[spaceraes]

[pokemon gym leader voice] ohhh you wanna solve my riddles three so bad it makes you look stupid

[papil0nglegs]

I LOOOVEDD your girly reader x sniper hcs.

May I request the opposite? Like a tomboy, introverted, Adam Sandler fit and overall just a freaky ass reader x sniper? =^.^=

Gangnam style 🛹

A/n: BIG SIS FIGHT BACK. PLEASEEEE, BIG SISTER GENERAL, COCONUT, BIG SISTER. 🥥🥥🥥

Warnings: Body shaming, ‘Bromance’

Sniper

Hey, he gets it.

Sniper takes a quick liking to you. Your sarcastic behavior/humor always has him snickering, even when it’s against him

Once you were in the frontlines he almost shot you, you just had some thoughts to share <3

“Crikey! ‘pologies!!”

“Jesus Christ sniper! You have better aim when pissing jars 😒”

“Hehe, good one mate”

Enjoys your introverted side, you guys love going on road trips in his van. Enjoying the silence together is great and all, but so is bantering with each other.

“Motherfucker-no way you listen to jazz.”

“Oh shut ya yob! What’s wrong with jazz?”

“You serious? I’m snoring over here, play some beastie boys I dunno!!”

“Oh please that’s dunny music”

He hates what you do to his van, he never notices the mess you make until after the trip. The shoe prints on his seats, the empty bags of chips and energy drinks, your axe deodorant. He puts in all in a plastic bag then gives it to you lmao

He’s pretty iffy about your fashion sense, sure it looks comfy but just.. why

“Should I get the Superman shirt or the sonic one?”

“You should put ‘em both back. 🫤”

“Alr bitch”

Being a messy sleeper is no help to him since his bed barely fits him so when he invites you over to sleep with him you better be TUCKED. Otherwise your gonna kick him off the bed in your sleep

Scout

He’s so fucking confused. It’d probably take him more time to have him understand how you’re a girl wearing masculine clothing than teaching him how to read

“So, you’re a chick?”

“Yeah?”

“But, you’re wearin’ dudes clothes?”

“..Alright bro”

Okay but actually you guys have a nice Bromance. Smacking each others ass fist bump being each others hype man etc.

“See ya losers later, ima go bang this chick I met online”

“Oo, can I watch?”

“no.”

Asking you for relationship advice is like asking an Italian mother in law what she thinks about your cooking, feedback will be given but someone’s just gonna get hurt in the process

“Do I look like a guy who would eat pussy? Be honest”

“You look like a guy who’d eat anything”

“Ok ☹️”

Spy isn’t really fond of scout, so imagine how he feels about you two combined..

“Can you guys stop playing that silly game and help around here?”

“Fuck you spy!”

“Get the fuck out spy you freaking French bitch,-“

“I’m gonna kill you spy close the door I swear to god!!”

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKIN- FUCK YOU”

The aura you guys carry is disastrous, such loud losers..

“Guess you can say we’re some kind of team fortress 2 👁️👁️”

“Say that again..”

“Oh my god please shut ya traps..”

[minijenn]

UF Preview

I dunno, enjoy the boys meeting. I made it fuckin gay or whatever. (cries in Stedip for the rest of my life)

---

While Dipper was still frantically flipping through the journal’s pages, he didn’t notice the large pink blur dashing through the woods ahead of him until it was too late. All he heard was a deep, fearsome growl before something plowed into him hard, knocking him clean off his feet. He clung onto the journal, keeping it clutched close to his chest, especially when he looked up and saw exactly what had barreled into him out of nowhere. 

It was a lion–large and powerful and oddly pastel pink as it hovered over him, its teeth bared as glared down at its unfortunate catch with a menacing snarl. As soon as he processed exactly what he was looking at, Dipper let out a frightened yelp, covering his face with the journal just in case the lion decided to strike. Thankfully, that didn’t happen as someone else intervened just in time.

“Lion! Cut that out! We don’t have time to play around right now, we’ve gotta save Connie!”

“H-huh?” Dipper peeked out from underneath the journal, confused. The lion still had him pinned and still looked ready to rip him to shreds at any moment. But he didn’t, if only because of the boy peering down at him from the feline’s back with a look of apologetic concern. 

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” he asked. He didn’t give Dipper a chance to answer before he scowled down at the pink beast beneath him, annoyed. “Lion, get off of him already!” The lion didn’t budge, at least not until the boy scolded him again. “Lioooon…”

The beast huffed, backing off at long last. As soon as he was free, Dipper scrambled to his feet, backing away from the big cat fearfully. “That’s… an actual lion…” he muttered, still in disbelief. 

“He sure is!” the boy mustered a smile as he patted Lion’s side. 

“And he’s pink,” Dipper stressed, bewildered. 

“I know,” the boy chuckled. “Isn’t he cool?”

“A-and he’s yours?”

“Yup!”

“How…?”

“Oh, well it’s a really neat story,” the boy said, though his smile quickly fell. “But I don’t really have time to tell it. I’ve gotta go find my friend Connie. Y’see, she was kidnapped by a bunch of gnomes and I-”

“Wait, did you say gnomes?” Dipper interrupted. The sheer strangeness of such a statement should have been what caught him off guard, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was something he remembered catching a glimpse of in the journal. He flipped through it as quickly as he could, finding exactly what he was looking for as he turned the book over to show the boy. “You mean these things?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s them!” the boy nodded. “That’s a pretty cool book you have there. Where’d you find it?”

“...That’s not important right now,” Dipper quickly shut the book, hiding it back inside his vest. “What is important is that I think those gnomes may have ran off with my sister too.”

“Oh no!” the boy gasped, genuinely alarmed. “Well, then we ought to team up to save her and Connie. Hurry, hop on!”

Dipper flinched, warily eyeing Lion as he shot him another bitter glare. “You mean… get on the lion?”

“Uh… yeah?” 

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, don’t worry! Lion won’t bite!” the boy assured. “...Probably. B-but it’s ok, I promise!” He held a hand out to Dipper, wearing a warm, encouraging smile all the while. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Dipper pointed out dryly. 

“Oh, uh, right,” the boy rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “My name’s Steven. What’s yours?” 

“...Dipper,” he replied a bit stiffly. 

“Nice to meet you, Dipper!” Steven’s already friendly smile widened as he held his hand out again. “So now that we actually know each other… what do you say? Do you trust me now?”

Dipper hesitated, looking between Steven and the hand he was offering to him. Briefly, the journal’s haunting warning echoed through his mind, cautioning against trusting anyone in this town. He already wasn’t the most trustful person to begin with, but how could he possibly extend what little trust he did have in him to a boy he barely knew, riding a pink lion through the woods? It was ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous. That’s exactly why he was more than ready to turn Steven down, to turn around and continue his search entirely on his own, except… 

Except when he met the kind, soft, sincere smile Steven was sending his way once more, a smile so much like his own sister’s that it nearly hurt him to think about it… Dipper found he just couldn’t find it in him to say no.

“I… y-yes, I guess I do,” he agreed, slowly taking Steven’s hand. The other boy’s eyes lit up with excitement as he helped hoist Dipper up to take a seat on Lion’s back behind him. 

“Alright, we’re officially a team now! And a totally awesome one at that!” Steven cheered, nudging Lion back into motion. “So let’s go find those gnomes!”

[filmnoirsbian]

So in hindsight this isn’t really that shameful but i FELT ashamed at the time!

so my dad is a teacher, and often when i was a kid (like 4-10yo ish) and had the day off from school but he didn’t (diff school districts) he’d ask if i wanted to come to work with him and i always loved it so my answer was always a definitive yes. like the vibe was that he taught one of those AP classes everyone who takes is really into and likes and he’s really cool, and the students always loved when i came and would ask him like “where’s ryan, when is he coming?” so anyway when i was in first grade there was this really pretty senior named ariana i who was in 2 of his classes (AP + elective) and the whole school day was like 4 periods bc this school is like one of those fancy private-esque public schools, so every time i went i basically spent the whole ass day essentially following this girl around bc i had a MAJOR crush on her. she was really sweet to me and showed me how to play lacrosse bc she was on the lacrosse team. so 7yo me was basically ready to get married at this point. and then….AND THEN! ! one time at the end of the day for some reason (they did shit like this a lot actually and i was disappointed when i got to high school and learned no one ever does this during class) a bunch of the kids in last period elective decided set up like a touch football game and invited me to play w them bc 7yo me pre-adhd diagnosis was like a fuckin caffeine singularity and i could outrun (or out-endurance) everyone except this one guy jacob but he’s not relevant to this story. so anyway we’re playing touch football and i just keep chasing down the other team’s quarterback and he can never get a chance to throw the ball bc he’s busy running away from me. but ariana was on the other team and by this point i would have punched a full grown adult in the face if she asked me to. so one of the other ppl on that team jokingly had this idea to get her to tell me that according to the rules of football i had to keep my eyes closed while chasing the other team or else it wouldn’t count when i caught them. i think they all thought i knew it was a joke but I DID NOT. so i did and i ended up running straight into a tree trunk and then everyone laughed and was like “hahahaha can’t believe you fell for that.” and that has been a core memory for my entire life ever since. some of them were like really apologetic but this one dude who i thought was really cool cause he built legos with me earlier just kept laughing and brought it up every time i went back after that. so until i got to college i was unable to let anyone find out a had a crush cause i thought they’d use it against me. jokes on lego dude tho cause he asked my dad for a letter of rec when he applied to college and my dad turned him down bc apparently he “slacked off on all his work and never got it done on time.” guess that’s why he had time to build legos with me in the middle of class

also i played this video game skylanders in like 6th grade and had a massive crush on this dragon named Cynder cause her voice was hot af. her tagline was “volts and lightning” and she breathed elcitricty instead of fireballs. but sooo hot tho

I love when yall send me memoirs

[bylersecretsanta2023]

from @marshmallo824, to @dont-open-dead-inside-25

what are you doing new year's eve?

“Uh, no, Max, that’s actually not your best move. My pawn isn’t even close to your home base!”

There are only a couple more hours until 1989, and it looks like Mike Wheeler will be ringing in the New Year with copious amounts of vexation. It’s been a rough night for him, competitively speaking: he was first to go bankrupt in Monopoly, failed to break 200 in Yahtzee, and ended up with approximately half the deck by the end of Uno. 

Now, he’s red in the face and fuming over a particularly tense game of Sorry! – Max (the strategist of the operation, getting Lucas to actually move her pieces) has just knocked Mike’s last pawn back to Start. Dustin has a clear lead, though Max-and-Lucas are starting to catch up.

Will was supposed to be teaming with El, but he’s barely paying attention. Mike looks far too good tonight in a soft maroon sweater and black jeans, even if his facial expression is slightly…constipated. Sue him if he’s distracted, honestly. The Mike Wheeler Obsession™ that has sort of characterized all of Will’s teenage years certainly is following him into 1989. 

It also doesn’t help that the taller boy finally gave in to his mother’s complaints and got a haircut last week. The nostalgia had hit Will like a semi-truck when he’d first seen it – with shorter hair, he looks shockingly like he did when they were in eighth grade and Mike had been the only tolerable part of that fall’s flayed-and-fucked-up fever dream. 

“Do you like it?” Mike had asked quietly, maybe a little nervously.

Will frantically nodded, because the only words his mouth was capable of replying with were I love you I love you I love you Will you stay with me forever? and he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be the response Mike was hoping for.

In holding his tongue, Will was thoroughly rewarded with a bashful but earnest smile from Mike. “I guess I was kinda worried it would look a little stupid.”

“Not possible. You look great,” he blurted out, completely negating his success from mere seconds earlier. “I mean, it suits you.” It wasn’t the world’s best amendment, but it seemed to be enough.

“Hey, thanks, man. I mean it.” Will watched Mike tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, maybe out of habit, but it simply drifted back towards his face due to its new length. 

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year, Wheeler.” Max is grinning, which only seems to irritate Mike further. “Where’s the joy in your heart?”

“I’d be a lot more joyous if you’d play the fuckin’ game right, Mayfield. Dustin is gonna kick all our asses but for some reason you’d rather go after the guy with one pawn on the board? You’re insane, you know that? What a shitty strategy.”

Things escalate further from there, and rather quickly. Max is laughing as Lucas defends her, entering a vicious back-and-forth with Mike, while Dustin’s gaze darts excitedly between them like he’s at goddamn Wimbledon. El is explaining the scene to Max, and that only makes both girls laugh harder. Upon seeing this, Mike gets ramped up even more. As soon as he opens his mouth, Will can tell the other boy’s about to say something he’s really going to regret, so he puts a gentle hand on Mike’s shoulder, hoping it’ll slow his roll for even a second.

It works with almost disturbing efficacy. Mike’s teeth clack together audibly as he shuts his mouth, and he swivels to Will, suddenly and almost completely disengaged from the previous argument (if not for the exasperated furrow of his eyebrows and the exaggerated heaving of his chest). 

“Hey, you wanna take a break for a bit?” he finds himself saying, not letting go of Mike’s shoulder just yet. Mike, to his credit, nods sheepishly and stands. In the typical fashion of the Party, their other friends have already moved on, fully engaged in the remaining part of the game. El quirks her head at Will, eyeing Mike inconspicuously. 

You’ll take care of him?

I always do. I hope you win for us.

El grins at him, eyes glinting mischievously. I always do.

“I’m still not convinced you guys didn’t actually share a womb,” Dustin asserts, but Will’s already standing and following Mike out of the basement, leaving El to decide how to handle the biological twin allegations.

Upstairs, the Wheelers’ New Year’s Eve party is in full swing. The lilt of sociable adult laughter and the drone of the television drift through warmly-lit and stately rooms. Mike still looks wound-up, and maybe even a little discouraged. Will’s not having it, and he gets on his tiptoes to reach Mike’s ear.

“Follow my lead,” he whispers, and tugs a visibly confused Mike into the living room, where Mr. Wheeler looks about five minutes away from sleeping through the New Year altogether. There’s an empty champagne glass in his hand.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Wheeler,” Will beams, offering the man the firmest handshake he can muster. 

“William, it’s good to see you,” Ted drawls, eyes already drooping with exhaustion. “Could you take this glass to my wife in the kitchen?”

“Sure, should I ask her to refill it?”

He waves a hand dismissively and leans back further in the La-Z-Boy. “Don’t think I could have another. You’re a good young man, you hear that? Maybe it’s not too late for you to rub off on Michael. He could stand to have some more manners.”

“Dad, I’m right here,” Mike sighs. Normally, it’d be pretty funny, but he’s already stressed enough as it is, and Will can hear the strain in his voice from keeping it together. Ted blinks lazily and turns his head, nodding at his son.

“Excellent,” he murmurs, and dozes off. Mike rolls his eyes and takes the glass out of his dad’s hands. As the two make their way to the kitchen, which is currently heavily packed with mothers, Will deftly takes it out of his hands. Karen Wheeler is currently engaged in conversation with Claudia Henderson. They both seem to be walking the fine line between wine-drunk and…wine-plastered. Score.

“Mrs. Wheeler? Mr. Wheeler asked me to bring this to you.”

Karen doesn’t even ask, just automatically fetches the bottle of champagne. “I expected that,” she murmurs with a conspiratorial wink. “Every year, Ted makes his way to his last glass by ten o’clock sharp.”

The clock reads 11:37, but Will doesn’t point this out.

“Are you boys having a nice time?” Mrs. Henderson asks, almost as if she’s just realized they’re here. Mike nods quickly, but Will’s going for his Academy Award. He schools his face into a concerned but polite frown.

“You know how kids can be,” he sighs, a little wistful. Karen finishes (rather generously) filling the glass and perks up at this, maternal instincts kicking into gear despite the effects of her revelry.

She seems to notice something in Mike’s expression and reaches up to hold his face with her hands. Mike shoots a panicked look at Will, which shifts to annoyance upon receiving Will’s shit-eating grin.

“They take advantage of his enthusiasm, Mrs. Wheeler,” Will laments, overselling it just because he knows he can. “He’s just too earnest for this cruel and unfeeling world.”

Karen clicks her tongue sadly. “How perceptive! You know, I’ve always said that, Will.” She wraps Mike in a tight hug. “Oh, my bright boy. Never let them put your flame out.”

“Okay, Mom,” Mike placates, awkwardly wrenching himself out of her grasp. 

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Wheeler,” Will beams, and she’s too moved by Whatever Just Happened to take notice of him dragging Mike up the stairs instead of back into the living room.

They quietly slip into Mike's bedroom and shut the door, entirely unnoticed.

“I can’t believe you stole champagne from my mom, dude,” Mike remarks, amazement clear in his tone. Will flushes with embarrassment and maybe even pride.

“I didn’t steal it, Mike. She gave it to us, remember? Besides, it’s only one glass.” He hands said glass to Mike. “It’s not like I snagged us the whole bottle.”

Mike wastes no time in taking his first sip. Pathetically, Will thinks he could get drunk just off of the way Mike’s throat bobs as he swallows the golden liquid. Without needing words, the two sit side by side on Mike’s bed; Mike passes the glass back over, and Will holds it carefully. He rotates it, aiming for a casual movement, until the part Mike’s mouth has touched is furthest from him. He drinks – it’s fruity, but clearly not strong. The scandal of it all is probably more exciting than actually getting drunk tonight, anyhow.

“Do you think I have cooties or something?” Mike asks, and Will turns to meet his eyes. 

“Um. No?”

Mike considers this. “Do you have cooties or something?” 

Will shakes his head, a little amused, but mostly baffled. Mike chuckles, but he sounds slightly exasperated. When they exchange the glass once more, Mike doesn’t turn the glass, drinking from the exact place as Will had. He shoots a lopsided grin at Will. “If you give me mono, I’m gonna be pissed off.”

Will giggles, taken aback. “Hey, you can’t say I didn’t try.”

One glass of champagne later, and they’re both nowhere near drunk, but Mike seems a hell of a lot calmer than he had been before they got up to his room. He hasn’t stopped smiling since his fourth sip, and Will swears he’s somehow inched closer every time they passed the glass between them.

“Hey, you wanna hear something?” Mike asks, but he’s already getting off the bed and crossing to the other side of the room, so Will doesn’t bother replying. When he comes back around, he’s holding his acoustic guitar. It’s something Mike could barely bring himself to touch after Eddie, but he’s coming around to it again. Will’s embarrassingly endeared at the sight of the instrument in his lovely hands, wishing for one idiotic and deranged moment that Mike could hold him with that amount of tenderness and care. 

What follows is maybe the most enthralling rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” that Will has ever heard. Sure, not every chord is spot-on (particularly when he’ll accidentally catch on a string that isn’t meant to be used), but Mike’s voice is so raspy and beautiful, and his eyes are narrowed with intense concentration. When he’s done, Mike sets the guitar aside and meets Will’s gaze, smiling sheepishly.

“It needs some practice, I know, but I only started learning it after Christmas, so I didn’t really have –”

“I like you.”

It slips out entirely without his permission. “I mean,” he immediately backtracks, “I mean, I thought you did great. Seriously, nice job, man.” The casual form of address feels clunky in his mouth, but he’s desperate to cast off as much suspicion as possible. Maybe Mike will let it go?

“You like me?” 

When the two of them were younger, maybe in fourth or fifth grade, they’d both gone through a Greek mythology phase. As a result, Will’s well-versed with the concept of the tragic heroes and their fatal flaws – like hubris, or what have you. Mike’s fatal flaw is his persistence. Of course he wasn’t going to let it go; the ability to do something like that isn’t even in his skillset. 

And Will – Will’s fatal flaw is that he’s a really fucking bad liar.

“Yeah, I do. I have for a while. I’m sorry.”

Mike’s silent for a while, eyes wide and vulnerable as they search every corner of Will’s face. He blinks a few times, mouth hanging open slightly. Will looks down at his lap, tasting bile and champagne rising in his throat. He swallows it down.

“Do you wanna be my midnight kiss?”

Will nearly breaks his neck with the speed at which he turns to look at Mike. “What?”

“I said, do you wanna be my midnight kiss? You know, that thing that people do? On New Year’s Eve?”

“Mike,” he pleads, confused and a little panicked, “what are you talking about? You don’t – you don’t like me like that. Don’t do this for my sake, that’s just stupid –”

“Who said it’s just for your sake?” Mike snaps, a little frustrated. He softens a little, probably realizing how insane he sounds right now. “Listen, I – I mean, I’m…surprised. I don’t really know if I thought about us like that before. Maybe I didn’t let myself even go there, like, uh, mentally? But I feel –” and he places a hand against his own ribs – “happy, y’know? Giddy, almost.” 

Mike leans into Will’s personal space a little intensely. “And don’t you dare try to let me off by saying we’re drunk, because you and I both know we didn’t have enough for that.” Will shrugs, conceding before he can even begin to fight that battle. 

“I don’t get it,” he admits, trying not to sound as pathetic, needy, and utterly lost as he feels. Mike just grins at him, all boyish charm and eager humility.

“You make me smile. I like taking care of you, and you take care of me too. We understand each other – I mean, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who really knows me, and you still like me? That’s – I mean, I can’t even wrap my head around that.”

“Why? You’re an incredible person,” Will protests, flushing with embarrassment as he does so. Mike’s smile gets even wider, somehow. He wrings his hands together as his leg begins to bounce, seemingly of his own accord.

“Do you know how fucking excited it makes me when you say shit like that? Feels like I could run a whole marathon, and dude, you know how much I hate running. I can’t believe I used to think you just made me nervous! How stupid is that? I guess I always thought being close to you – was dangerous, or something, like I was going to hurt you again. And I do still worry about that sometimes,” he adds, suddenly serious, “but that definitely doesn’t explain the butterflies.”

“Butterflies?” Will asks, incredulous. He’s not fully convinced this is real. Mike laughs, tipping his head back, well and truly cackling as if he can’t contain the joy he’s feeling.

“Yes! Butterflies! I’m so stupid, seriously, Will. I used to do stuff like – like keeping track of how much you smiled when we’d hang out with our friends, or trying to figure out what exactly it was that made you smell so nice on a given day, or wanting to be…to be close to you, just to hold you. And I guess I thought I was just being an attentive friend, but now that I know – I mean, of course I like you! How could I not like you, Will?”

Will thinks he might actually burst into tears right here in Mike’s bedroom, which is definitely a mood killer. By some miracle, he refrains.

“And don’t even get me started,” Mike continues, a little breathless in his excitement, “on what it does to me when I think about kissing you. Shit, I really want to kiss you. Can I kiss you, please?”

Will swallows, tries not to think too hard about the surreal bizarro world he’s suddenly found himself in. He takes a deep breath and looks down at his watch. “Hmm, I don’t know. Doesn’t look like it’s midnight yet.”

Despite the fact that Mike has a fully functional watch of his own, he leans even closer to Will anyways, peering down at his watch. “Well, what am I supposed to do for the next…forty-seven seconds?” Will just smiles at Mike, tipping his head forward until their foreheads are touching, and letting himself finally run a hand through his best friend’s soft, short waves.

“Be patient, loverboy,” he croons, earning a playfully indignant scoff from Mike. “Something tells me you’re gonna get kissed a lot next year.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. Consider it my resolution,” Will breathes out.

When midnight comes and their lips finally meet, it’s like a billion fireworks have gone off all at once.

(Later on, after they’ve exchanged kisses to the point of putting their lungs entirely out of commission, the two of them crawl under the covers and cling to each other. They feign some excuse like body heat, but there’s no point in disguising any of it. They know.

And if Will, overwhelmed with joy at the feeling of Mike snoring gently against his shoulder, whispers “Happy fucking New Year,” into the open air…well, then. No one has to know, do they?)

[gettinshiggywithit]

!Dabi x Bakugou’s Sister!Reader!

🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧

Scenario:- How Bakugou’s sister and dabi met!

Pairing:- dabi x Bakugou’s sister!reader

@izukuisbaby I HOPE U LIKE IT BESTIEEE PLS LMK WHAT U THINK??🥺

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Like before he joined the league kinda back

Because I honestly dont think he’d jump into a relationship.i think hed take his sweet time and honestly?good on him!

Im thinkin,dingy alley at night kinda setting.

He woulda been bummin a cig(I honestly hate this because BESTIE YOURE GONNA GET A CVD?????LIKE PUT THAT SHIT AWAY) and you sniff the air,pinch your nose closed and walk up to him

Now we know dabi hadnt committed and “flashy crimes” before joining the league so i dont think hed risk lightin you up then and there.especially if there’d be a way to to talk his way outta it

Cause as we know,this bitch can talk.hes smoother than a ferret in a piping system when he needs to/wants to be.

He’d be ready just in case he had to defend himself and all you’d do is snatch the cig from his lips and crush it under your heel

You’d give him a disapproving look up and down and just scoff before walking our of the alley and continuing on your way

Hed be STUNNED like

“Huh????”

Fuckin confusion incarnate this mfer

But like after five seconds he shaked himself ot of his trance and gets out of that alley.

He thinks about it tho. About you.not 24/7 or anything just you pop into his head every now and then.

Over the nexr few weeks you continue to bump into each other and you noticed him every time

He isn’t exactly forgettable

And finally about three weeks in you actually stop him

You pull on his raggedy little overshirt and he’s like ‘shit not her again’

You look him dead in the eye and pull him into a side street. And confront him

“Hey what gives???”

“....”

“Okay let me rephrase.why the hell are you following me??”

“Pfft im not following you.”

“Oh so you do speak,well then why the fuck have i been seeing you literally everywhere for the past three weeks?”

“I dont know what the fuck youre talking about.”

You stared into his eyes and you could tell he genuinely didnt do it on purpose...after growing up with katsuki you learned how to search for the truth in peoples eyes because,as you’d learned by observing bakugou, their eyes often betrayed what their voice and words tried to mask.

“Hmmph you really havent been following me...sorry um about that.... im y/n.” You said extending your hand and he just looked at it warily

When he didn’t respond you proded further

“And you are?????”

“Uh dabi...the name’s dabi”

“You slowly retracted your hand(he didnt shake it{THE LION THE WITCH AND THE AUDACITY OF THIS BITCH})

Just then you heard a rustling from the back of the alley

You both turned to see a group of thugs ready to ambush you

He ignited his palms and you yours.

You were no damsel in distress.youd trained with your brother since you were a little girl!

You both fought them off him Ofc deal more lethal blows than you.

And finally when all the bodies which had been attacking you were either burned to ash or incapacitated you looked at eachother and smiled just a little

“We make a pretty good team,staples”

“I guess we do”

“Soo how about dinner and a movie huh? My treat. You got most of em,left less for me”

He naturally looked skeptical.

But after a few minutes he nodded his head

“Yh sure”

What was the worst that could happen? Him falling for you?? Not a Goddam chance!(hehehehehe)

So you went on your date that Friday and the rest is history!

🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧🎧

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the mha characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but this story? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Reblogs with tags>>>>>>>>>likes please

Tagging: @izueli @izukuisbaby

[localplaguenurse]

I have to put this image now every time I send a weirdly brutal ask. Not sure if it’s considered gore tbh.

What would happen if in close combat, Morax’s horn just gets ripped off/sliced off? Like would he start bleeding or like are they like horse hooves and it’s just solid keratin/core lapis. If so, isn’t it heavy as hell. Do you think the separated horn could reattach and it’d have like a line of gold on it like kitsugi

On another note, does his horns fall off like antlers and if so isn’t it like graphic as hell with blood streaming down his face

I had to hold my head in my hands for like two minutes because of the fuckin picture

Because I imagine they're literally made from cor lapis they wouldn't bleed if a piece were to break off. If you straight up somehow yanked it from his scalp, yeah that's gonna cause a lot of bleeding and you are definitely getting your ass kicked for it. They probably would be pretty hefty in your hands, but it's nothing if you're the literal embodiment of geo. He can probably stick it back on kintsugi style, or if the horn is too damaged, just grow a new one.

I actually just found this out, but the difference between horns and antlers is that you can't shed horns. Only antlers do that, so to answer your question of if they fall off: depends on if you'd rather call them antlers or horns. I do like the word "antler" more than I do "horn" but I feel like they're more than likely just horns, so they'll stay on. If you're team antler then yes they would fall off and no there wouldn't be any blood.

[lavendertownfreak]

Impidimp Update

I didn’t find an Impidimp, but I DID find and Catch its evolution Morgrem. In related news, I had to stop by a hospital in Hammerlock because the mfer got me with the hair-spear. It hurt like a mother fucker, but was but a flesh wound. Got it checked and left. I’ll be fine, wasn’t even bleeding really, but did need stitches. For reference, fucker stabbed out at me from the brush. Honestly, I respect it.

I’ll now use this opportunity to give a little team update! (Epsilon is being omitted because neither of us have caught them)

My Team:

Suki is still herself. She did get REALLY concerned after I caught the Morgrem though, due to her seeing the wound.

Nature: Quirky

Ability: Filter

Moves: Frost Breath/Psybeam/Teeter Dance/Shadow Ball

Crawler is still a giant sleepyhead. Hell, couple of random trainers we encountered on the way up to the Mushroom Forest commented on how he’s the chillest Drednaw they’ve ever seen! The biggest difference between him before and him now is that he’s the about size of the coffee table back at our place.

Nature: Lax

Ability: Strong Jaw

Moves: Crunch/Razor Shell/Counter/Ice Fang

Brownie is still a joyful little goober. She’s very playful with everyone while still being protective to us (or at least attempting to given how she’s a Rockruff). She still gets on really well with Suki and Crawler, and has really gotten close with Baron.

Nature: Jolly

Ability: Vital Spirit

Moves: Howl/Rock Throw/Mud Slap/Bite

Baron has definitely let up on the edgy loner thing he had going on, though he’s still cautious of newer faces. He’s also still a bit of a dick, but that’s fine.

Nature: Lonely

Ability: Gluttony

Moves: Night Slash/Pin Missile/Counter/Headbutt

Pimple is a greedy little asshole, but like, in a kinda endearing way. They also bites a lot. Trying to get them to stop. (I’m use neutral pronouns for Pimple because I still haven’t gotten around to figuring out their sex, though they don’t seem to mind them so I may just keep referring to Pimple gender neutrally.) They like eating and trying to egg on Baron into fights. I’m also trying to get them to stop doing that.

Nature: Naughty

Ability: Hunger Switch (obviously)

Moves: Bite/Flatter

The new Morgrem I’ve named Gaz Drek. Idk why, just felt like it. I haven’t had Gaz out to much, but he seem like a mischievous and also prideful type. He have definitely shown a habit of lashing out when he gets agitated, which is concerning. Trying to calm his short fuse at least a bit.

Nature: Rash

Ability: Frisk

Moves: Fake Out/False Surrender/Swagger/Sucker Punch

Then there is Vi’s team:

Mari is her usual playful and kind self. She’s very chill (no pun intended). Pretty protective though. She’s also got some fun sass on her. She kinda reminds me of Vi’s sister now that I’ve met her lol.

Nature: Sassy

Ability: Curse Body

Moves: Destiny Bond/Hex/Ice Beam/Will-O-Wisp

Hexed is a little clingy baby. We love him. Mari has basically taken the little dragon under her wing, and it’s really cute! Little guy really likes battling, but isn’t very good at it due to how incredibly baby he is. He’s trying his best!

Nature: Jolly

Ability: Infiltrator

Moves: Curse/Infestation/Quick Attack/Disable

Vi is honestly not the type I’d really expect to pick up a Stonjourner, but alas Stanley is here! Stanley is… honestly the best way I can sum him up is that he’s just… Stanley. He’s definitely friendly, and tries his best to be helpful, but that’s all I can really put into words about Stanley. Honestly, this living pile of rocks kinda radiates himbo energy and I’m here for it.

Nature: Gentle

Ability: Power Spot (obviously)

Moves: Gravity/Rock Slide/Wide Guard/Low Kick

Fun trivia fact! Vi DOES NOT have an actual Rotom Phone! Turns out her “Rotom Phone” was actually one of those Porygon Phones that a wild Rotom decided to take over (we were under the impression it was just a really old model). We figured this out when we had to go to a fuckin shop in… Motostoke I think is the place’s name? The cool steam powered city. Anyway, we had to stop by because her phone was refusing to unlock. When we got there, they employee who helped us very kindly explained the situation, and even let Vi keep the Rotom after catching it to get it out the device. (The problem was that the Rotom apparently took over the unlocking function and completely forgot it did.) So now Vi has Siri the Rotom! He’s a playful (if shy) little guy! Makes me kinda wish I could get the Rotom in my phone (but you know, those Rotoms are technically owned by the phone company…)! So yeah! Rotom! (Siri still usually chills in Vi’s phone.)

Nature: Bashful

Ability: Levitate (obviously)

Moves: Discharge/Hex/Thunder Wave/Synchronoise (Foul Play)

So yeah.

//ooc: Enter the Electric/Psychic Rotom-Com. It's a Porygon Phone, but showing the traces of being under Rotom Control. Unfortunatly, you have to deal with Synchronoise as you move.

[max--phillips]

I was going to leave this in the tags but it got way out of hand and I’m just gonna put it here, sorry OP

I think the bottom line is how the game presents these characters & how it fits into the overall narrative, including how the ME universe expands in ME2.

Ashley is easy to view as controversial because she’s just painted as a straight space racist in the first game. It’s very easy for us to see that and go “oof, yikes.” Mordin obviously starts out with some Yikes takes, and Garrus…. it’s not surprising he has a stint as a vigilante, no?

But, all of them, at least in my opinion, have arcs through ME3 that show immense amounts of character development. (Granted, it depends on how you play the game, but yknow)

wrt Mordin and the genophage, I think the game sets up the genophage as much more nuanced issue than it actually is. Like, there has to be a shitload of propaganda surrounding it in the in-game universe. Mordin isn’t as easily seen as controversial, as opposed to Ashley, because he, the player, and pretty much everyone around you believe the genophage was the right thing to do & is a necessary evil. Obviously that’s rectified by the end of ME3, and Mordin ultimately dies to correct course.

When Garrus is introduced into the game, you’re both basically space cops who are so close to figuring out what’s going on, but there’s red tape and bureaucracy in the way. You’re seen as very much parallel characters playing on the same team. Then in ME2, both of you have lost your support structure from the previous game and are out fuckin raw dogging it against some bullshit. Again, it depends on how you play the game, but Garrus respects Shepard immensely, and if you choose to reel him in from that, he does. He’s ultimately there to contrast with a paragon Shepard imo, and I think that that similarity with slight differences to see what could’ve happened is part of the reason people like him so much.

Now, ALL THAT SAID, I think people really really really underestimate Ashley and discount the INCREDIBLE character development she goes through through the trilogy assuming she survives Virmire. I dislike her in ME1 immensely, just due to, y’know, the space racism. Granted, I think her story is interesting, even just in the first game, bringing more character traits that are relatable to the player in the 21st century. But I always choose her to survive on Virmire because I think her story arc is WAY more interesting than Kaidan’s. I mean, she goes from space racism to… everything that happens in ME3.

Ultimately I don’t think that anyone dislikes Ashley for saying that the council sucks. Like, we know from the beginning the council sucks. Making Shepard a spectre was pretty performative and tokenizing in the grand scheme of things. People don’t like Ashley because she’s characterized in the first game as racist because her daddy fought in the first contact wars and that means turians suck.

idk why ashley Williams is considered “controversial” all she does is say that the council will drop humanity in order to prioritise themselves and then that’s LITERALLY what they end up doing in me3 so like. idk man. feels like nitpicking for any reason to crucify this woman but everyone will be besties with garry “i don’t care about the system i want results and i will sacrifice civilians to get them” v*karian

[mizunetzu]

omg i’m so excited i like,, spam read all of your writing and now i can request,,, anyway, could i request maybe something similar to your Tanaka x femboy reader, but with Oikawa? like he mistakes him for a girl and maybe flirts with the reader a little bit and the reader i just like ,,”you do,, you do realize i am a man correct” and hijinks ensue?? sorry if this is too vague i suck at describing things. lotsa love your writing is literally my favorite 💕

Omg wait Oikawa??? And femboy reader??? Hijinks???? Take me now—

——————

Oikawa x reader - Oikawa Tooru Goes Both Ways

⚠️warnings - reader is mistaken and referred to unintentionally as a girl. I assure you, this is a male reader. Femboy reader, if that triggers you.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Oikawa couldn’t help but stare as a...rather cute girl stepped into the gym.

“Oi! Shittykawa! Focus!” Iwaizumi was about to hurl a volleyball at Oikawa’s head when he caught sight of where he was staring. He looked from the newcomer, back to Oikawa’s eyes tracing their form up and down.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa held his breath as he pointed subtly. “Who is that?”

Iwaizumi looked over back to the intruder. Sure enough, some girl with (h/c) styled hair stood at the foot of the door awkwardly. They weren’t sporting the school uniform, instead wearing a skirt with a cafe apron tied around their waist. Oikawa recognized the cute logo on the somewhat dirty apron as the coffee shop he’d visit on days he wasn’t particularly busy.

All in all, this stranger was incredibly attractive.

Eventually, coach Irihata emerged from the storage closet, and motioned the stranger over. The stranger perked up, pulled out a slightly-wrinkled paper from their back, and timpered off into the office.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. “Iwa-chan...is this what I think it is? Are we fiiiiiinally getting a cute girl manager to manage our team?!”

He draped himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Aaaaah~! I’m so happy~! And it’s such a cutie too!”

“Get off me, dumbass. You have like...millions of girls throwing their panties at you, literally all that look like her. And you go for the one who decides to join our club?”

Oikawa huffed. “What’s so wrong about that! She’s cute! And she looked so shy standing there...aaaah, I’m swooning just thinking about wrapping her up in my arms-!”

“I’m saying,” Iwaizumi bonked Oikawa on the head. “If you manage to get with her, then break her heart, or at the very least make her uncomfortable, she’ll have to see your annoying face all day at practice, and then she won’t wanna be manager anymore! Because she has to see you!”

Iwaizumi pinched at Oikawa’s scalp. “I want a cute girl manager and to have them actually stay! And who knows? We get brownie points if it’s not another one of your fangirls trying to get in your pants by joining the club!”

“Ow! Mean Iwa-chan, bad!”

“I’m not a damn Pokémon-!” Iwaizumi was about to kick Oikawa in the back, before letting himself simmer down and take a deep breath. He lowered his legs, and turned towards the office door. “...I’m gonna go look at that girl’s application and see what class she’s in. Maybe we can, I dunno, make her a welcome basket of fruit or some corny shit like that.”

“Let me come with you-!”

“No! You’ll just scare her away, and you have cleaning duty! All you need to do is take down the net, and I’ll meet you outside when I’m done. If you be good, I’ll tell you her name.”

Oikawa thought about it for a second.

“Deal.”

He disappeared to take down the net from the poles. Iwaizumi sighed, and walked towards the door. They were the only two left in the gym, as they were in charge of cleanup for the day, so no one else but him should be in the office. Well, minus the new girl and coach Irihata.

Iwaizumi slid open the door. “Yo.” He greeted. He looked around the room, only finding coach Irihata.

“...Didn’t someone come in here with you with an application form?”

Coach Irihata chuckled. “Oh, yeah,”

“He just wanted to drop in his member application before his part-time job made him go back to work.”

Iwaizumi froze.

“...he...?”

“Yeah, he wanted to join the club as a (Position name). He’s not confident about his jumping or spiking abilities, but he claims to be really dang good at digging and receives.”

The two looked at eachother in silence. Wasn’t she-well, he—wearing a skirt? Now that he thought about it, everything about him looked like...well...a him, minus the skirt. Iwaizumi dashed to the table and picked up the application resting there peacefully.

‘(L/n) (Y/n) - 2nd year, class 4’

‘Position - (Position name)’

Iwaizumi scanned the page. He wanted to doubt this was the ‘cute manager’ they laid their eyes on, but they even had a school photo clipped onto the corner of the paper. Sure enough, that was him. His eyes eventually landed on something printed on the middle of the page.

‘Gender - male’

That proved it. The ‘cute girl manager’ Oikawa was just fawning over turned out to be a guy. And their future teammate, no less. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh in Oikawa’s face.

“Is there something wrong, Iwaizumi-kun?”

“Pfft-no! N-no, sirrrrr....” Iwaizumi set the paper down and walked out the the room, doing his best to keep in his snickers.

Oikawa jogged up to him excitedly once he stepped out of the gym. “So? Did ya find out her name? Her class? Is she our manager?”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to say something, before letting his mouth clamp shut.

“Nah, coach said I couldn’t see it.”

He watched as Oikawa deflated, trudging his way over to the club room to change and go home. Iwaizumi did his best not to bust out laughing on the spot.

This should be fun.

——

“Iwa-chan!”

“No, you stalker.”

“But Iwa-chaaaaaan!” Oikawa whined. “Why not?! Practice ended early, and we could use some coffee! Come buy coffee with me!”

“You just wanna use me as an excuse to see that bo-that girl who came into our club yesterday, idiot! That’s stalking! You’re acting like your little fangirls!”

Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi prayed he didn’t catch him on his little slip-up. He turned around, walking off out of school gates. Oikawa dejectedly trailed behind him.

“I’m going home. Don’t bother me if it’s about that manager again—“

Just then, a text tone pinged from Iwaizumi’s pocket. He stopped mid-sentence, fishing out his phone and opening his messaging app.

‘Mom - no ones going to be home because we have to go out real quick. The house is locked, and you left your spare keys with me again. Go out and have fun with Tooru-kun before I come back!’

Iwaizumi deadpanned. Oikawa had his chin resting on his shoulder, with a shit-eating grin Iwaizumi didn’t even have to look at to know was there.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan. Listen to Mrs. Aina and hang out with Tooru-kun for a bit. We can go to the cafe and hang out like your she said, Iwa-chan~”

Iwaizumi pushed past Oikawa bitterly. “Don’t... fuckin’... call my mom by her name... dumbass... stalker... Shittykawa...” he grumbled as he trudged his way in the direction to the cafe. Oikawa let out a small “Yay~!”

——

Hiding behind the big, laminated menus the cafe provided, Oikawa kept glancing over to the cashier-area to try and find (Y/n). Iwaizumi deadpanned, sitting back in his chair nonchalantly.

“You’re acting stupid.”

“I’m being sneaky.”

“You look more suspicious than if you were to act like yourself.”

“As if you would know!” Oikawa whisper-yelled to Iwaizumi, momentarily letting his menu fall flat. “I’m trying not to get caught, unlike one of us-!”

“Hello?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa rigidly turned to the voice, while Iwaizumi almost fell back in his seat.

There stood the boy—well, the ‘girl’, in his work apron, this time, up close. Oikawa could see the detail in his eyes, the way a few of his hairs fell onto his face and stuck because of the small layer of sweat on his forehead, even taking in the small kitty hair clip resting in his hair.

“Hu...huaai...” Oikawa breathed out. Iwaizumi bit his lip. If he started laughing now, Oikawa would tell his mom he was bullying him again.

“Hello! I was wondering if I could get you two anything to drink! No worries if you aren’t ready to order yet.”

His voice had a soft tamber to it, a warm, welcoming aura that fit the vibe of the cafe perfectly. Iwaizumi could see how Oikawa, and probably other people, could mistake him for a girl. Especially with the way he dressed and carried himself as evident to yesterday’s practice.

Iwaizumi tilted the menu infront of him up a bit. “I’ll get a small black coffee. Whabout you, Oikawa?”

When he got no response, other than the hum of acknowledgment from (Y/n), Iwaizumi looked up. Oikawa was staring dumbly at (Y/n) again, and seconds later (Y/n) was caught under his gaze. He stared back awkwardly, waiting for Oikawa to say something or at least order something, until he suddenly jolted up in pain.

Iwaizumi dug his heel deeper into Oikawa’s foot. “Say something, dumbass! Stop staring!” He hissed, covering his mouth from (Y/n) in petty attempts to mask their conversation.

“Ow! Ow! I’ll get a peppermint tea please-! Stop it!”

(Y/n) scribbled down Oikawa’s order, smiling patiently as he did. Iwaizumi removed his foot. There was a beat of silence, until Oikawa smoothly rested his chin on his hand.

“Soooo, (L/n) (Y/n)-chan, is it?” Oikawa said, as he peered at (Y/n’s) name tag. “Pretty masculine name for a cute girl like you~”

Iwaizumi choked on his spit. (Y/n) tilted his head to the side, looking up from his notepad to peer back at Oikawa.

“What...did you say?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I think (Y/n) is a cute name~”

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he wanted to die from laughter or embarrassment. He was going to pop a vein trying to keep in his cackles.

“Ah. It’s the clothes, isn’t it?” (Y/n) mused. He took a step back, looking at his rather-feminine clothing choices for the day. “I understand why. I get that a lot.”

“...What does your clothes have to do with your name?” It was Oikawa’s turn to sound confused. Iwaizumi let out a few haggard, stifled snickers at his dense expression. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“You...” He pointed at himself with his pen. “You do realize I’m a man, correct?”

Oikawa choked. His eyes widened as his smile cracked a bit. Iwaizumi had to hide his face in his jacket to prevent himself from bursting out into hackles. Oikawa gave a nervous smile.

“Aha...haha...funny joke..”

“I’m not joking, though...” (Y/n) smirked. He wouldn’t deny that seeing the faces of people flirting with him after he told them he had a dick was a guilty pleasure. “Want proof?”

(Y/n) grasped Oikawa’s wrist, tugging it forcefully, and moving his apron to the side. He brought it down closer to his groin until Oikawa sputtered and flailed on the table.

“No! I-I believe you! I-I can see it from here—I don’t need to touch it-!” Oikawa shrieked. Iwaizumi clutched his stomach from laughing too hard, already given up on keeping it in. He snorted loudly, choked on that snort, and erupted into a series of cough-laughs.

By the time Iwaizumi’s laugh turned into the kind where no noise came out-but it hurt in your stomach anyways—Oikawa was laying his head on the table, embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled along.

“You knew, Iwa-chan! You knew!” Oikawa hissed, holding his poor, abused hand. “You set me up for failure!”

“You did that to yourself.” Iwaizumi said between breaths. “He’s actually gonna start attending practice as a (position name) starting next week. We don’t have a manager after all.”

“And you got my hopes up for what?!” Oikawa cried out, making Iwaizumi snort again. (Y/n) raised his eyebrows.

“Manager?”

“Oikawa thought that when you came to drop your registration form in yesterday, that you were signing up to be a manager since he thought you were a girl. I saw your form though, so I knew but this guy here didn’t.”

Iwaizumi nudged at Oikawa, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You better be nice to him, though. He’s your new captain starting next week.”

“Ah! How fun! Having my new playboy captain flirt with me before I even join the club. ” (Y/n) mumbled, as he scribbled down something else in his notepad. Iwaizumi heckled when Oikawa whined with his head down.

He didn’t raise his head back up until a slip of paper was placed gently on top of his head. He heard a “I’ll go get your drink ready.” From (Y/n), before he looked up and noticed he was gone. He caught the slip of paper falling off his head as he sat up.

“What’s that?” Iwaizumi said lazily. Oikawa was staring giddily at the paper. He turned the paper around smugly, holding it up for Iwaizumi to read.

‘Call me. If you’re feeling fruity, that is. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx. -‘(Y/n)-chan’’

Iwaizumi stared at the neat handwriting, then back at Oikawa’s smug face.

“...Were you not just listening? He just tried to make you touch his dick? He’s a dude?”

“Eh. Cute girl, cute boy, he’s still cute~” Oikawa dreamily sighed as he watched (Y/n) make his tea behind the counter. “I’d still hit it till he breaks~”

“Pervert.”

“Says you.”

Oikawa earned a sharp thunk to the head.

——————

[russilton]

rb!george adjusting to merc accordingly i— 🥺🥺🥺 my god, i'm so Soft for found family dynamics, or just general kindness from a group of people after they know you've gone through a rough time. i could imagine how absolutely surprised george is after realizing how fucked up his past working environment is compared to this one. 100% feel like that man would cry like he did in hungary 2021 because he finally internalizes the fact that he's okay now, that he's in a good place.

also curious—you don't have to respond fully if it spoils the fic btw!—how would lewis ask george to join merc? and if it's announced, how would the entire grid react? :0 as always, fuckin love your writing!! :D also i am a sucker for perfect and open communication too so 🤝🤝🤝 - @ruszhou

AME THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT FOUND FAMILY CAUSE IM FERAL FOR IT.

Spoilers for Redbull George au! Big ones!

God George joining Merc may be one of my favourite parts of the second half of the story haha. Lewis approaches Toto about a seat for George somewhere around Russia. Redbull have nerfed the shit out of George’s car post summer break to keep him in line, and while he’s worked his ass off to outdrive those issues, to keep his head above water, they make the car fundamentally harder to drive. Around rolls Russia, max has the engine penalty, and George is having a really hard time keeping his car in contention.

He’s also exhausted. He isn’t sleeping much, every weekend is brutal reminders that if he doesn’t perform he’s fucked. He can’t look Lewis in the eye. After Monza something in him twists like a knife seeing Lewis crash. He throws up when the team joke to max he should have tried spinning his wheels. Going to sleep means the next day comes faster so he often ends up laid up in whatever expensive hotel the team is booked into staring at his phone, trying to figure out who he can talk to. He can’t talk to his family, after all they sacrificed to get him here. He can’t talk to Aleix, or any of his previously close friends all on Redbulls pay role. All he has is Lewis, what cruel irony. He doesn’t call.

This lack of sleep, combined with the surprise rain in Russia, his horribly under responsive car, slick tires and max just slightly tagging his back wheel into a turn as he overtakes him, and George’s car spins out and takes Max with it. George hits the wall harder, max gets off lightly even if the car isn’t able to finish the race. George’s head is still spinning when max is leaping out of his car to shout at George, vitriol and acid that george can barely parse over his ringing ears. George can’t even look at him he’s panicking so badly, adrenaline making his instinct to freeze rather than fight kick in. Max shoves his head violently before he storms off (at this point he doesn’t even know if george has a head injury or not, which is pretty horrifying) and george is so dizzy he can’t get up. Max is already on the back of a cart back to the garage when medical arrives, and once they get his collar guard off, george has to try and pull himself out the car and look fine because he knows Redbull will be furious if they think he was using the medic for sympathy. He grimaces and waves his arm to the cameras even as his shoulder screams. Nobody can tell behind the helmet.

Redbull put the blame for the incident entirely on George, they quote his drop in delivery (that they forced) and his withdrawn attitude as him reflecting on what he did (he’s actually trying to stave off a crippling migraine.) When he’s back in the redbull building it doesn’t get better, they verbally abuse him for damn near an hour before marko tells George he won’t be driving for Redbull next year. When george looks like he’s teetering on a panic attack they tell him that if he behaves from now to the end of the season they MIGHT give him a seat in the AT rather than pierre. But if he steps out of line again they’ll blacklist him from the sport entirely, making everything he and his family have worked for worthless. As he leaves, max shoves him so hard into a wall he’s surprised he doesn’t break his nose, hissing something about George deserving it for fucking with his championship. Nobody stops him .

That’s how Lewis finds George, tucked away behind a Redbull motor building, blood dripping out his nose, on the verge of a complete breakdown as he tries to stop the blood getting on his shirt. Lewis was just looking for him to tell him he didn’t think the crash was his fault, and now he’s found george looking bruised and beaten emotionally and physically. He hustles George into a quiet Merc building to get him out of camera view then leaves him sat on a sofa while he finds something to get the blood off his face.

When Lewis cups his face to gently wipe the blood off his nose and lip, he ends up murmering who did this to you? He sounds angry, and George is panicking again, thinking about what just happened, and he dives for Lewis to kiss him. It’s not graceful or loving, it’s desperate, George acting on instinct bc Lewis always made the pain go away before god please take it away now. Lewis holds him back, because Jesus george what’s going on with you? You’re not fuckin okay what happened? And George just, breaks, tells Lewis everything. About the second driver status, the testing, the abuse, and how he’s just lost his seat and might be kicked out of F1 entirely. Dams broken, he’s shuddering and sobbing into Lewis’ shoulder. Ugly, snotty, terrified crying as it all crashes over him.

Lewis ends up hugging him close as he processes everything, everything george is telling him is 10x worse than he guessed. No wonder george has turned into a stranger on and off track, it’s all beyond fucked up. He can’t do anything more than help calm george down and offer him somewhere to stay away from Redbull. Once George has cried it out he just laughs without any humor to it and tells Lewis he can’t, he has to go back, if he’s gone any longer it’ll be worse. Lewis has to let him leave even if it feels like letting someone walk off to be tortured.

It’s when Val finds him, still sat on a couch; still with slightly bloody hands and a damp spot on his shoulder that Lewis realises what he can do. He asks Val for his blessing to suggest george as a replacement to his seat (as mentioned last time, it’s already been decided that Val will be leaving Merc for 22, a mutual choice between Bottas and Toto). Val looks at him like he’s grown two heads, then at his hands, and connects the dots. He approves and doesn’t make Lewis elaborate. Solid man, Val is.

Lewis approaches Toto about it just after that debrief, and it takes two weeks for a preliminary agreement to be drawn up between Toto, himself, and James V. When George podiums in turkey, it’s agreed they want to approach him, and just before COTA Lewis invites George to dinner. George goes because he barely gets to escape his hotel rooms now. He thinks it’s just Lewis; he’s not prepared for Lewis to lead him into the lavish back seating area of a fancy restaurant and to be met with Toto, James V, Bono, Val and shov all waiting for them. Here george is in a slightly wrinkled shirt across from a whole table of serious looking men in smart buisness attire.

He’s on edge immediately of course, doesn’t even sit down, all their calm measured gazes feel like spotlights, and he defaults to angrily demanding to know what the fuck is going on. Are they trying to get him to give up engineering secrets? To blackmail him into shitting on his team? Are they gonna take advantage of him as well??? They let him hiss at them like the angry feral cat he is before Val just leans forward on his elbows and says “they don’t want secrets, they want you”

George falls into shocked silence. Toto confirms it and taps a stack of papers, telling George it was Lewis’ idea. Lewis is eyeing George for a reaction, and George is so overwhelmed, confused and… kinda scared. He just can’t trust them, so he asks Lewis what the fuckin’ catch is, and Lewis tells the group he just needs to speak to George and drags him outside and into a side alley where it’s quieter and they’re hidden from passers by.

Lewis, very politely, asks George what the fuck his problem is, and George blows up at him and accuses Lewis of either trying to get something out of him, or pity him so George will feel in debt to him. He’s working himself up and doing a lot of pointing at lewis and accusing him of trying to make George his bitch on track too, and lewis gets a little fed up and grabs George by his shirt collar and pins him to the wall so George shuts up for a second.

This is when lewis uses his communication skills to tell George to maybe consider that lewis fucking misses him. Fighting George made him feel like a kid again, that he can’t stand having George handicapped on the grid no matter how much it makes his job easier. He wants to battle with him again, he wants George in a car alongside him so he knows that no matter which of them wins it’ll be for the team. And George’s jaw is tense, eyes damp and glaring at Lewis with a vulnerability Lewis fucking hates because he knows Redbull put it there. The only thing George manages to spit back in a wobbly voice that sounds a little close to tears is that “you just want to get a leg up on redbull” and Lewis just growls and gets right up in his face to tell him “of course I fucking do, don’t you? I want to battle someone who actually matters”

That finally shuts George up, and Lewis can gently unfist his shirt and step back. George self worth is in the basement and it makes Lewis so angry and sad. He misses the George who taunted him so Lewis would bend him over a table. He misses the spark in his eye. He tells George just to hear them out, listen to the offer, he doesn’t have to decide today. Redbull are going to fuck him anyway, what does he have to lose. George finally nods and let’s Lewis take him back inside, listens quietly to Shov and James explaining the details of the offered contract. The only thing he asks is to valtteri, which is he really okay with this? Val nods and explains why he’s moving. It’s all very tense as George tries to guess if they’re going to screw him, and everyone else waits for George to explode.

At the end George takes the copy of the contract he’s handed, and leaves without much of another word. Val and James immediately start questioning if George even wants a seat at Merc, sure doesn’t seem like it, but Toto is staring intently at Lewis, who matches his gaze, steady and determined. Toto nods at him and tells the rest that George wants it, the question is if he’ll let himself have this.

COTA is right before a two week break, and none of them hear a fuckin peep from George. He’s radio silent on and offline, till 3am on the Wednesday before mexico where he calls Lewis. Lewis is barely awake, asking George what’s going on, but George just cuts him off and asks lewis if he can trust Mercedes’. Can he trust this contract. Tell him this isn’t a trap.

Lewis is awake immediately, telling George about all the details of his own contract, about how fair Merc are, how they want him, not just because of Red bull. George doesn’t reply, silent, and lewis just says “ even if you don’t know you can trust us, isn’t that a better option than red bull, who you KNOW you can’t”. Silence. Lewis asks if he’s okay. George hangs up, leaving Lewis groggy and confused.

But next morning he’s getting on a private plane in Monaco with Toto and Valtteri to fly to the race, And Toto holds up his phone to show Lewis the freshly emailed scans of George’s signed contract, just waiting for his and James signatures. Sent over that morning, time stamped just after George hung up on him.

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

-----------------------------------

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

-----------------------------------

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

--------------------------------------

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

--------------------------------------------

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

[writerofshit]

For almost 3 years the crew doesn't know when Matt's birthday is. This is solely because he never brought it up and sometimes the crew thinks he might have sprouted, fully formed, in front of a computer monitor roughly ten years ago. He didn't. He does in fact have a birthday.

When the crew finally realizes this, Trevor takes one for the team in trying to figure it out. He makes a point to bring it up all nonchalantly, 'yeah, Lindsay says you do that because you're a Virg-....Aquari-... Gemini?' complete with arched eyebrows and wide eyes.

And Matt's an observant guy, yeah, but more so when it comes to patterns in bank transactions or when the local donut shop has his favorite donuts available. People, even friends, are another story entirely. So he just shrugs. 'what does me being a Gemini have to do with liking mustard on a hot dog?'

But Trevor doesn't have an answer for that, of course, because it was bullshit to begin with. Instead he mumbles something about stars and time and relish, scurries off to tell Jeremy what he's learned. Which isn't much, sure, but at least they've got a window now.

The entire crew spends a ridiculous amount of time dropping opinions on May and June dates. 'yeah I'd hate to be born on June 2nd. Wouldn't you, Matt?' and 'May 27th is my favorite date for sure. What's yours, Matt?' and 'i've never met someone with the same birthday as me, May 23rd. Have you, Matt?'

And again, yeah, Matt's an observant guy. Most people, in fact, are probably observant enough to notice when an entire group of criminals act really fucking weird about the calendar. But again, Matt's observant about things like tiny movements on camera feeds or that there's not extra onion on this burger, actually. So he shrugs and says 'yeah I knew someone growing up who was June 6th. We used to argue about who could have a party. I always lost.' like this isn't information the entire crew has been fishing for over the last month. They probably could have asked outright and Matt wouldn't have cared.

It's honestly kind of annoying.

The week his birthday rolls around again, they go all out. Big ass fucking party, invite everyone they can think of. Every old friend not turned enemy, crews they've talked about working with but never got around to, minor celebrities they know Matt will get a kick out of toasting in his honor. It might actually be the biggest party or event or goddamn crowd Los Santos has ever seen. All there for Matt. All celebrating this guy most people have never seen.

It's a kickass time. Matt gets hoisted up and sung to, then Michael, then Fiona, then someone Matt is sure he's never met. 'It's a cover.' Jeremy drunkenly yells in his ear. 'So no one knows who's really you.' It's a sentence that's not quite right, but Matt appreciates the sentiment. It's also probably not even accurate, given that he was the first up and they've made him cut a cake on a stage, for some godforsaken reason. It's the thought that counts, though.

All in all, Matt thinks it might be the most fun he has ever had.

Two days later, on his actual birthday, it's almost the complete opposite. In terms of scale, at least. It's just the crew, up in the old penthouse Geoff swore he'd sold. He hadn't, of course. Never could bring himself to pull the trigger on it.

It's pizza and beer and donuts and cupcakes. It's Mario Kart and Ultimate Chicken Horse and a game of Monopoly that's played in teams, somehow. It's stories that reach all the way back to an alleyway, three idiots pointing guns at each other because they had no idea what they would become, what they'd join into. Jeremy says they were 'pretty sure Matt had never held a fucking gun before that' and Trevor agrees wholeheartedly.

They try to pick their favorite 'Matt's playing music over the loud speakers during a fucking bank robbery' song. It's a tie between Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go ('because i knocked out that fuckin' guard and he thought it was funny!' Michael yells. 'who the fuck thinks of that?' and Call Me Maybe ('because god forbid i take one breath before I answer him. I wasn't even in the bank, i was across the fucking street playing lookout! I only heard it through somebody's earpiece.' Alfredo says, rolling his eyes.)

When the night winds down, and it's no longer Matt's birthday but they're still pretending it is, Jack brings out an apple with a candle stuck in it and Geoff cries with laughter. 'you're getting older, Matt, you gotta eat more fruit.' she says. Matt argues that he does eat fruit, he had a lemon lime flavored cupcake at the party.

There's one whole serious moment during all of it. Things get quiet, Geoff not quite meeting anyone's eyes. 'y'know, Matt, we all make a lot of jokes. We call you an asshole, tell you we hate the plans you make. I don't know how many times I've said I regret hiring you, or any of you, really. And, uh, yeah, sometimes it's true.' It earns him a chuckle from around the room, and he clears his throat. 'but seriously, you're, uh, you're one of the best fuckin people I know. All of you are. And we're lucky to have you. We love you, man.'

Nobody cries, because this is a group of hardened criminals who rob banks and blow up buildings and kill people, sometimes, so of course they don't fucking cry. They do, however, somehow all find themselves with a serious case of the sniffles, all wipe totally non existent tears from their cheeks.

No one says anything, for a long moment, not even Matt. He should be saying thank you, or telling them how much he loves them too, or hell, even cracking a joke. He can't seem to find the words, though.

Jack holds up her beer. 'to Matt.' she says. Around the room, various drinks go up almost immediately, and there's a not even close to in sync chorus of 'to Matt.'

No, tonight is not nearly as grand or extravagant as the party two days ago. There are no expensive cars being raced, no crowds of people shouting 'Axial!', no stages or celebrities or fireworks. This is just his family, together.

It is the best birthday he's ever had.