#this show LOVES dropping in lines and playing them off as a joke until you remember earlier (or later) lore drops that make everything Pain

[chevaliermalfets]

2x11 Black Water // 1x05 The Curse

[lovebugism]

if you're still interested in smutty requests.. what about the line "want me to serenade you while you strip?" and it's eddie jokingly saying this to reader and she runs with it and he tries to keep playing but COME ON there's more important things those fingers should be doing 👀

congrats! u win the award for most eddie coded request of all time :D — eddie makes you laugh when you get nervous undressing in front of him (18+, allusion to smut, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Stop looking at me like that!” you whine with your arms crossed over your nearly bare chest. “You’re making it weird!”

Eddie laughs loud. “Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, leaning back on the mattress and propping his weight on his elbows. He’s got a better view of you from this angle. More of your half-naked body in his sight.

“I can feel you looking at me— It’s making me feel weird.”

“Well, how am I supposed to look anywhere else when you’re in front of me like this, huh?” 

His eyes are lidded and swimming with melted chocolate. You’re not sure how you’ve captured his attention like this, in the tamest underwear you own and your most ancient bra. He’s looking at you like you’re already undressed — like you’re still pretty even though you aren’t.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, glittering with adoration.

“And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he quips without thinking twice, wild head titled to his shoulder and a crooked smirk on his kissed mouth. “So I guess we’re even.”

His eyes rake over you again, heavy like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen you. 

He pulls his plush lip between his teeth and, almost absentmindedly so, brings his palm to the crotch of his jeans. He grips his covered cock with a pale hand, shifting it slightly within the confines of the denim. It grows slowly and achingly stiff the longer he looks at you.

Eddie looks like a Renaissance painting like this. Ethereal and hedonistic. You almost forget to breathe.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you say with a forced laugh.

“You’re half-naked in my bedroom, doll— that’s all you need to do,” he chuckles, golden and more sincere than yours. His ringed fingers clutch tighter at his covered bulge. He breathes hard through his nose. “You could be fully clothed, and you’d still turn me on.”

“Stop messing with me,” you argue in a tiny voice, features twisted in a subtle pout.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Do you want me to get naked? Or should I just stand here for the next two minutes?”

“Two minutes? C’mon. Give me a little credit. At least, two-and-a-half,” Eddie jokes. And then, when you laugh, he assures you. “You don’t have to get undressed if it makes you uncomfortable. Unless it would make you feel better if I serenaded you—”

“No.”

“—Too late.” 

You reach your arms for the clasp of your bra. Eddie’s voice fills the trailer — “do, do, do, do-do-do-do-do-do” — the high-pitched intro to “I Was Made for Loving You.” It makes you laugh loud. A big, girlish laugh that makes your head drop back.

Your bra comes off, and you forget to be nervous.

“Why are you laughin’ at me, huh?” Eddie jokes, eyes going squishy around the edges when he looks at you.

“‘Cause that’s, like, the least sexiest part of that song.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, are you gonna keep singing, superstar? Or am I gonna have to keep my underwear on?”

He goes dumb for a flash of a second, forgets the lyrics and how to form the words of them in his mouth. He jumbles them together for a second in mindless mumbles until the real thing spills from his lips. “—‘Cause girl, you were made for me… And girl, I was made for you…”

You tug your panties down your thighs while he sings for you. You make a big show of it too, tossing the pair of them into your lover’s lap and giggling when it gets him all flustered. 

“Fuck— c’mere,” he urges, as dumb as he is breathless, now that you’re fully naked in front of him. His hand drops to his lap again, palming at his stiffening length to ease the ache there. His free hand reaches out for you. “Can you— Just come sit in my lap, baby, please.”

You don’t know why he’s groveling. You were breaking the second you saw him melting for you. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about it, you settle yourself over his lap — kneeling on the mattress, both of your thighs straddling one of his.

You linger there, just above him. Eddie’s ringed hands reach gently for your warm jaw to pull you closer to him. You don’t give in so easily — “Keep singing for me, rockstar. You got a show to warm up for, remember?”

Eddie blinks up at you, eyes wide and lidded and honeyed. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you’re some ethereal being carved out of stone. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen because you are.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “This is so fucking metal.”

[heliads]

Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand. 

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[amymbona]

thinking abt perv bff Tashi ugghhh

like during movie night, she kicks a pillow off the bed and makes you get up to get it and when you bend over she has a nice view of your underwear

makes you take off your bra before playing tennis because "it's hot outside" (it isn't, she just wants to see the bounce)

makes you wear her shirt and only her shirt because 'its more comfortable"

and also because she wants to steal your panties

If she did this to me, I'd probably go crazy for her 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

She basically teaches you to feel comfortable in as little clothing as possible, writing a slogan "free the titties!" on one of the stickers on your laptop. And you're kinda grateful for it, because you used to be really insecure and afraid of showing too much. Like the little spandex shorts you'd wear under your skirt for tennis. You'd be sweating your ass off in them, itching your butt hastily, the same uncomfortable feeling applying to your bra, squeezing your tits and allowing for too much sweat to pool around them.

Now, she's made you her little doll, basically (un)dressing you up to her liking. And you are so compliant, willing to walk around your shared dorm just in your panties. Literally. Not joking. You leave the small bathroom attached to your room almost naked, not caring that you've forgotten your (her, she literally makes you sleep in her clothing) shirt folded on the bed. Your tits are free, lightly bouncing as you walk, a few remaining droplets of water hanging from your nipples.

Tashi can't resist herself. She makes a little come here gesture with her hand and has you sit on her bed. "You've got a little something on here," and with complete nonchalance, she begins wiping the remaining water (literally just a few drops that would dry within the next few minutes or get soaked into the shirt) off of your breasts, her soft thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You can't hold back a moan, eyes widening, not only at the way she touches you, but mainly the indifference in her expression. This is the first time she - anybody - has ever touched you like that, so intimately.

"Tashi," you whisper shakily, "What are you-"

"Shhh. It's okay," she shushes you, a firm tone contrasting the soft smile on her face, as her palms move to cup your breasts. "Do you like it?"

You gulp, staring down at where her tan hands keep lightly holding your tits, testing how the feel against her hold. "I don't know."

"I can make you like it," she states with total confidence.

"How?"

The response is nonverbal. Instead of an explanation, Tashi kisses you, the soft press of her glossed lips against your making you whimper lightly. If you were standing right now, your legs would probably give up under you. She overpowers you easily, and yet there is a certain gentleness to her movements, because she knows you're so innocent and inexperienced. She can basically feel you tremble as she holds you, loving the way she's turning you into a little shy mess in her hands.

With easy precision, her lips travel over your cheek and down the line of your jaw to settle under your ear, where they latch onto the soft, never kissed before skin. She's gonna be the first person to ever give you a hickey, to mark you and make you hers.

With her help, you're lowered onto your back, bare body hitting the mattress. Tashi settles between your legs, allowing them to wrap around her hips. You do that whole thing yourself and she smiles into your skin, knowing you must have seen that in some movie, squeezing your breasts in return.

"You're so pretty," she whispers as the kisses slowly move towards your chest, your sensitive and, up until now, untouched breasts. "Such pretty tits."

"Tashi," you're a moaning mess as your friend's lips latch onto your nipple, sucking the air in and pulling it between her teeth. Your body jerks, afraid she might actually bite your nipple off, eyes snapping open as you stare at the ceiling.

She keeps running over your nipple with her tongue, teasing the other one with her thumb to keep the stimulation even, and poor you, you're trembling under her like a lamb, back arching to push her breasts closer to her face.

Tashi moves onto your other nipple, leaving a thin trail of her sweet saliva to drip into the valley between your breasts, sucking and licking like she's trying to get a sip of some milk that you've never had any chance acquiring. She teases your sensitive breasts and nipples with her hands and mouth, enjoying the way you moan under her. Successfully, she's turning you into her little doll, showing you all the ways a woman can be pleasured.

[chatterbox-73]

Simptember 2024.

Day 12 - Gifts.

Itachi Uchiha x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for simptember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for simptember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary: Itachi visits you to rekindle an old childhood love with you, in hopes of asking a favour of you.

Word count: 1k

CW: NSFW and adult content, unprotected sex, drop of L word, mention of death, weapon/knife, public sex, public nudity, creampie, pregnancy.

It was such a nice day, you had only a few D ranked missions lined up with your team, finding and retrieving a lost bunny: completed; helping the medical ninja move boxes of medicine into the hospital’s storage unit: completed; tending to the hokage rock, washing it and picking up rubbish: completed.

Now you sat in the grass relaxing, having sent your team home for the day, you had decided to go for a walk outside the village and found a small clearing in the woods where you chose to sit and relax for the rest of the day, as you looked up at the sky you listened to the leaves rustle however it sounded off, though you decided to pay it no mind for the time being, that was until you heard a heavy crunching of leaves, it was someone, an adult, a man. You stood and looked in the direction of the sound, holding your kunai knife tightly in your hand, “show yourself now…” you demanded and held your kunai ready to throw it, there was more rustling before a man in a straw hat and a large black cloak come out of the dense tree line, “I said show yourself” you yelled and throw your kunai, it made contact with the man’s hat and caused it to come flying off his head.

An audible gasp left your body as you came face to face with your ex-childhood-boyfriend, with Itachi, you had heard he was wondering around the village a few years ago however you never ran into him, what you had heard was he was now an Akatsuki member, he had a fancy type of Sharingan that could put you in a genjutsu in an instan and was looked for the jinjuriki to steal them, “what are you doing here? I’ve already alerted the others” you growled readying to reach for another Kunai but Itachi holds his hand up and smiles “no you didn’t and there’s no use in doing that” he hummed and despite your better judgment you returned it to its holder, “what do you want?” You asked and Itachi began to walk up to you very slowly, almost impatiently slow, he reached out a hand to brush your cheek and you wanted to pull back, to shove him, to take him down, but you couldn’t and you just simply melted into his touch. I was just like old times, you allowed yourself to become completely swept up in the feeling on his love, as children it was so innocent, hugging and shering sweets, playing with the stray street cats, even shearing a soft kiss once or twice; and yet even now it still felt innocent and warm, but there was something else behind Itachi’s touch, “what it is?” You asked softly, you reached up and touch his hand for a short moment before you quickly pull back, however your touch still lingering on his hand. “I’m going to die soon, it has to happen… but I wanted something from you before I do” Itachi said so comfortably that it almost rehearsed, you were stunned into silence and reached up and grabbed the collar “what are you even talking about, death? Tell me this is a joke” you yelled and shook Itachi slightly, however he just stood there and nodded, “it’s true, but I love you so much… which makes this all the more hard to do this” he hummed and pulled you in wrapping his arms around you, “just promise when I’m gone, you’re not alone to hate or go after the one who did this” he smiled and you nodded, “what is it you want from me?” You asked and Itachi’s face reddened, “I want you to take a part of me and keep it with you even after I’m gone” he hummed and lightly kissed your lips, you suddenly released what he was asking you, nodding you pulled him closer to you and pressed your lips to his, “I’d honestly regret it if I didn’t do this for you, after all we never got the chance to be a real couple together” you smiled and thought about all though memories as young kids, yet you felt a pang as you realised Itachi was right, so much wasted potential, so much loved lost, “alright, let’s do it” you hummed and brushed your finger into the hair on the back of his neck.

The sun was stinging your skin and caused you to feel a slight tingle over your skin, though thinking about it, there was a more of a chance of it being the activity Itachi had asked you to join him in, he laid atop you and worked his hips into a seductively slow and soft manner, you moaned and grabbed at Itachi’s back, “you feel so good, better then any word could describe” he groaned and his picked up his pace, “fuck Itachi, I’m gonna come” you moaned sensually in his ear, his hips shuttering and you whined cumming hard as his hot seed filled you.

You laid on your stomach as your nails dug into the grass as Itachi continued to take you in the small clearing, both naked covered in sweat and tears as you both held each other close, “you’re so big, it’s filling so will… I’m- I’m gonna.. cum again” you moaned out and reached back as your entrance squeezed around him and he grunted, finally cumming for the final time, fill you and keeping you plugged with his cock, not giving a single drop of his cum leave you, “I need it to stick, I don’t want to leave you alone again” he hummed and you smiled brightly, gripping his hand that rested on the glass next to your head, “I love you so much” you whispering, “I love you more then you’ll ever know” Itachi smiled and pulled your body back into his, breathing in your sense.

You sat in the doctors office, “you’re pregnant, I’d guess and say your due date is in late may” she smiled and you placed a hand over you stomach, he was most likely gone, but this baby was all you needed now.

Simptember Masterlist

Day 11 - Tenya Iida: Last straw.

Day 13 - Gojo Satoru: Eyes on you.

[hughiecampbelle]

Dating Jordan And Having The Power Of Perfection Would Include:

Requested: Hey❤️!! Since your request are open I wanted to request something w/ Jordan Li. Jordan and Reader are dating & reader’s power of being perfect. Sorry if it’s too complicated and I do absolutely love your writing! - anon

A/N: I had this book as a kid where this family had powers and the mums was perfection and idk, it's so nostalgic 💕 I did make it a little darker so it's more in line with the universe. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

At first, Jordan hated you

The two of you were in constant fight to secure the second place/third place spots

Because of your abilities, you had perfect grades, perfect essays, perfect technique in fighting and training

You weren't exceptionally strong or indestructible, but you always knew the perfect way to take down your opponent

At events, your clothes and hair and jokes and words, everything was perfect.

You were the perfect face of God U besides Golden Boy

Your powers were non-threatening and would probably win you several jobs after graduation that others could only dream of - many of them for Vought

They could always use someone like you

You and Jordan met through Luke. When he said you were perfect, they thought he was kidding. When they met you, they realized who you were, and it instantly clicked: you weren't just good at what you did, it was impeccable

Because you were in constant fight for second place, because it was almost daily that your places changed and swapped, they thought of you as competition

It isn't until a gala do they see you as a person instead of a set of statistics and characteristics they have to be better than

You're all smiles talking to a group of older men, laughing when you should, making fun of them just enough so that they don't feel threatened. When they leave, you drop the facade, taking a drink off a silver platter and sitting beside them. Jordan notices this change, scooting closer to you, trying to sound nonchalant

"I didn't know you could have rough nights." They joke

You try to play it off, coming up with the perfect excuse, but they say you, they knew better than to believe you

You and Jordan bond over your equally terrible night: they open up about their parents wanting them to be one way when they're much happier as they are. You tell them about the growing pressures of your perfection

In elementary school it was a bit of a joke: you were a straight A student, you were good at whatever you tried no matter the experience level, you made friends easily. Your parents joked you were the best child they could ask for

When middle school hit, things started to change. The powers had been there since you were a baby (you rarely cried, you ate everything and never spit up, you were happy and easy and bubbly) but now you were old enough to realize you were different from everyone else. You picked up instruments you'd never touched before and was able to play them perfectly. Sports you had zero interest or experience in came easy to you. You tried to fail tests and mess up speeches and start fights, but something in you took over, something controlled you and made you do and say the right thing

By high school you weren't studying for tests or doing any of your course readings. You joined every club and extracurricular, showing up only when necessary. You slept through classes and tried to party as much as possible, but your body rejected every bad choice you put it through: you aced tests, you were exceptional in all your activities, even the alcohol you drank wouldn't touch you. You were always perfectly sober

You wanted so badly to fail, but it went against your nature

You weren't surprised when you got into God U. You had the best GPA, you wore so many chords at your graduation you lost count, you were exhausted from perfection. You needed a change and you hoped college would be that change

Jordan hadn't realized how confining perfection could be

You couldn't help but answer questions in class, your arm shot up, the words came out compulsively. There was no controlling it

After this, they see you so much more different than they initially thought

Jordan seeks you out after that, losing their typically cold exterior for a nicer, softer one

They used to blame you for their shortcomings, but now they realize it's quite literally out of your control

Hanging out more with Jordan

They kind of insert themselves into your life more, finding you between classes, switching seats to be near you, offering to help you with your physical combat. It's kind of a silly excuse, but they'd do anything to get to know you better

Despite not needing their help in combat, you say yes anyways

You love watching them switch between their powers

That is kind of your first unofficial date and, afterwards, they ask you out on a real one

You are, of course, perfect and they can't help but fall for you

Luke is the first to ask if you're dating or not

When you didn't have classes with Jordan, you had them with Luke, who couldn't help but notice the change in Jordan

They used to get so annoyed when he brought you up. Now? Now they were all smiles

Andre definitely made fun of the both of you (nicknaming you The Perfect Couple)

It earned him a punch in the arm, but there was no denying your perfection

Cate was glad to have another couple in the friend group

Eventually meeting Jordan's parents who love you instantly

"Y/n is pretty perfect." They say, only half-joking

Studying together all the time, your dates are pretty academia focused. When you're not worrying about grades and still fighting for the second place slot, Jordan is showing you off at the clubs in your teeny tiny, skin tight outfits

Despite being perfectly sober, you can still have a good time

They can't keep their hands off you when you dance together

Jordan isn't big on PDA, but they get jealous sooo easily and that's when they become handsy

Because you're perfect in every way, you find that a lot of people develop crushes on you. You make sure Jordan knows they're the only one for you

You love how driven they are, how passionate they are

You've never minded their powers and always want them in whatever form they take

To you, they are perfect. Yours might be compulsive, but they're all natural

Jordan comes to you with almost anything

When they see what Brink does to Luke, they keep it a secret, not wanting your perspective of them change because they'd rather stick with their mentor than their friend

You know nothing about what's going on the school. To you, everything is perfectly normal

[maxsimagination]

𝗸𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝗰𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱 - 𝗸.𝗺𝗰𝗰𝗮𝗯𝗲

summary: chelsea vs arsenal is the biggest game of the super league as katie and yn go head to head for their clubs.

𖦹 masterlist

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬, chelsea vs arsenal.

"kt, you ready?"

me and katie had been together since i moved to london, we met at a bar and exchanged numbers (as all good love stories go).

"ready for me to crush you today?”

“hell yea." katie grinned as she rounded the corner of our shared apartment.

it was only after we had gone on a few dates and gotten to know each other that we figured out that we both played football. katie had been so excited until i told her that i had just signed for chelsea

"you could never beat me, mccabe." the irish woman was a gunner, through and through. it was our inside joke, me with chelsea and katie with arsenal. "how dare you, i'll show you." katie advanced towards me and i giggled as she tackled me onto the bed. "katie-"

she knew very well that i was ticklish and used it to her advantage. "katie, stop, we have to get you to training." i was still laughing from her hands on my sides, even after she stopped. i was dressed in my chelsea training kit, bag packed by the door.

"katie you're not even dressed!" once i stood up properly i realised that she hadn't even changed from her pyjamas. she just grinned at me, unmoving, her eyes following my movements. "you're so hot when you get mad." i smirked at katie's horniness, for lack of better term.

i walked over to her and put my arms around her neck, our lips are almost touching. her arms immediately went to my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. i moved my head to the side and started peppering kisses down the side of her neck to just below her ear.

katie tilted her head to the side to give me more access. i pulled away then and whispered, "and you're hot when you do what i say." before leaving her embrace and dancing away before she could get me. the look on her face was priceless, she was shocked and turned on at the same time.

"you can't do that." she tried to reason while making an attempt to trap me in her arms again. i ran off to the closet and picked out her training gear before exiting again.

"you can have me back when you get dressed." i tossed the clothes at her and laughed when katie pouted. she got dressed then, and we grabbed our kit bags then headed out to the car. i usually drop her off at training before a game then head back to where i need to go before the game. in this case, the chelsea training facility.

it wasn't that far from our apartment and her teammates always met us out the front. i pulled in and there was cait, steph, vivianne and leah waiting out the front. "sorry she's late, we got caught up." i yelled out to them with a wink. they all laughed and katie went a dark shade of pink.

"pick you up after the game." we gave each other a quick peck goodbye, then i pulled out and went to chelsea.

——

i was in the chelsea changing rooms with the team, standing next to sam and guro. magda was giving us all a pep talk, or at least trying to. the girls were ready for the game but they were nervous and you could tell. arsenal had always been our biggest competitor in the super league, save for barça in the champions league.

when she finished her captains speech, emma jumped in and hyped us all up, saying how good we were and that we got this. i was pumped and so ready to run out on that field.

we went to line up in the tunnel, this was always my favourite bit in games, especially against arsenal. i was alongside katie in the tunnel, just like i knew i would be. we grinned at each other and she reached out to hold my hand for a second before we walked out.

——

it was half time, and we were up 2-1 to arsenal. sam had scored the first goal, stealing it back when maanum missed a shot on goal. she had raced it up the field and somehow got past katie before slamming it in the net. i high-fived her before checking on katie.

then katie had evened the score with a kick from the corner that had miraculously bounced into the back of our net. i wasn't happy about the score but i was ecstatic for my girlfriend. she streamed down the field and stood in front of the arsenal crowd, who were going ballistic.

after her team had had their moment with her and we reset play, i sent her a wink and she grinned back at me. it was chelsea's ball then and guro had gotten it close to arsenal's goal, before magda kicked it over our heads and i jumped up for a header which sent the ball into the net. our fans went wild and both sam and guro ran over to me, guro jumping on my back.

now we were in the second half and arsenal were desperate to even the score. emma had subbed lauren james onto the field then and play started. lj was immediately on the ball and she ran it up the field, but then came katie. she was shoulder to shoulder with lauren and swiping her feet in with lauren's to get the ball.

her cleats must've scraped lauren's leg because she went down and clutched her leg, the ball rolling away slowly. i jogged over, seeing the ref talking with katie. i knew my girlfriend had set the record of 7 yellow cards in a season and i was anticipating another one. i had stood myself behind katie, close enough so i could hold her hand, but discreetly.

just as i thought, the ref held up a yellow card and wrote her name on it. katie walked away, turning into me. i walked a few steps with her, leaning in to whisper, "that's hot." before i jogged back to my position. lauren was deemed okay by the medics and she jogged over to where she had to be. play continued, but arsenal couldn't manage another goal. the final whistle was blown and the score stayed unchanged. 1-2 for chelsea.

i hugged my team, especially sam and guro, but my focus stayed on katie. i knew how much matches like this meant to her. she would be gutted but she would still find it in her to congratulate me, and that's what i loved about her. i walked over to where the arsenal team was.

most of them were hugging or sitting down but i found katie just lying on the grass. i went to her and lay down next to her. she turned to me with a smile. "i'm so proud of you."

i smiled back at her. "thank you katie. although i do think your new name should be katie mccard, with all those yellow cards you're collecting." she broke out into laughter and i was happy i could still make her laugh even after a loss.

[marley-manson]

I would love to hear any "director's commentary" you have on Army Style. It's one of my favorite MASH fics and I love not only the attention to historical details but everyone's characterization.

Thank you for asking! And thank you for the comment, I'm super stoked that it's one of your faves 💖

fic is here

ask meme is here

I basically had the idea when I was disappointed by how the later seasons had way fewer gay jokes than the early seasons lol, and I wanted to headcanon an explanation for that, so I had this idea that Hawkeye had a close call with a blue discharge and started playing it a lot safer afterwards.

I didn't really consider writing a fic though until I started doing a lot of hobby reading on midcentury gay history alongside Mash, and having a lot of thoughts on historical accuracy in fic and feeling like I was getting enough of a sense of the time period that I could maybe do a half decent job at exploring it.

I cited the main book that was my inspiration in the author's notes, Coming Out Under Fire by Allan Bérubé, but in addition to that I was reading like, One Magazine, Gay New York by George Chauncey, old 40s and 50s Canadian tabloid letters to the editor featuring debates about gay rights lol, this site which is a v cool resource, The Lavender Scare by David Johnson, Gay Talk by Bruce Rogers, Letters to One and Masked Voices by Craig Loftin, a little blue book on homosexuality published in like the 20s that I could imagine Hawkeye reading as a kid... not that all of these sources are necessary for authenticity or anything, and I definitely wasn't reading them just for the fic lol I'm not that into research, but I figure a director's commentary is a good place to make a list of various things I happened to be reading that helped inform the fic.

Another motivation for writing this was like... idk, wanting an alternative to fics and headcanons where everyone knows Hawkeye is bi and supports him or looks the other way because the 4077 is one big happy family, but not wanting an angst fest where he gets discharged or everyone turns on him and he loses his friends because now they know, etc. I just kinda felt like the most realistic thing that would happen if someone accused Hawkeye of homosexuality was this - the cast would largely support him but more because they don't believe it, rather than because they're allies or family. And that's its own source of more lowkey, subtle angst, which is my bag baby.

So I guess I have an agenda in wanting to show that Hawkeye isn't really an open secret despite the jokes, largely because he's charismatic and good at making friends and very good at his job. No one would want to believe it.

There's no real dividing line where the jokes have a steep drop off imo, but between seasons 7+8 felt like a natural place to set it, and I liked incorporating the notorious joke with Flagg as an inciting incident.

For a while I was thinking it would be pretty short and just like, Hawkeye being accused and denying it and the rest of the cast vouching for him, all set at the 4077. I considered having him sent to a hospital when I read a section about it in Coming Out Under Fire, but I was like 'nooo that's so much work I don't wanna.'

And then as I wrote it the fic just went that direction anyway so I rolled with it and did my best.

Gonna do a bit of a play by play now, scanning through the fic and seeing what stands out to me to comment on.

-- Hawkeye makes like 3 times as many gay jokes as usual at the start of this fic because a) they're really fun to write, and b) I think it makes sense for Hawkeye who tends to say exactly what's on his mind. It's what he's worried about and thinking about, so it's what keeps coming out of his mouth. Plus I read the jokes in canon as not so much Hawkeye throwing caution to the wind, as Hawkeye knowing that it's a way he can be open to some extent about how he feels - the way he always wants to be emotionally genuine - without actually drawing suspicion. He goes a little overboard but everyone who knows him is like 'yeah not surprised, Hawkeye gonna Hawkeye.' So he's generally right about the jokes being safe.

-- I wanted all of the supporting cast to have a different reaction to the investigation. Radar is the least supportive and most homophobic about it, because honestly that just fits how I see him. He's canonically uncomfortable with a lot of Hawkeye's jokes, sometimes mildly like a long-suffering little brother but sometimes weirdly hostile about it lol. I think he'd believe it's true pretty quick and be disturbed by it, but be swayed by Hawkeye denying it and reminding him of their friendship, because he doesn't want to believe it. Also by this point in the series he's pretty grouchy in general.

-- And I have Klinger as the only one who knows Hawkeye's bi and doesn't give a fuck, because I believe that's true in my soul and I didn't feel like it even needed an explanation lol. But the explanation in my head is that Hawkeye rolled up to the 4077 on his first day, saw Klinger in a dress, thought 'wow that's bold' and asked him where the gay scene on campus is with hardly any deniability in his phrasing. And Klinger was like, lol why does this keep happening, and pointed him to some of the other people who did the exact same thing (including Trapper), and they all have a monthly poker night (which Klinger goes to too even though he insists he's straight.)

-- The interview in general was fun to write. Hawkeye breezing through at first, until the revelation that it's not about Flagg's report throws him off, and then the reminder of Tommy's death sending him into rant mode. Hawkeye's confident and charismatic so it takes something extra to make him fuck up here. It did take a lot of rewriting to feel like it escalated smoothly and made sense emotionally though.

-- I'm kinda proud of the little twist of this fic lol. Hawkeye having already been reported by Tommy's lover ages ago, unbeknownst to him because the dude only knew of him as "Hawkeye" and no one could connect that name to "Benjamin Pierce" until Flagg's report. It was a fun way of using the fact that Hawkeye goes by a nickname as a plot point. It was also a good way of making it so the jokes aren't actually the problem and Hawkeye is right about how they're pretty safe - if it was just Flagg's report it would've been laughed off and thrown away. And it's a way of including the army coercing names out of people, since I didn't have them trying that with Hawkeye at the hospital.

-- “Lieutenant Jacobs is married.” Said with a mild glare at Hawkeye. “Well, I wasn’t exactly planning to propose to her.”

lol I only included this to push back against the common misconception that Hawkeye is morally against sleeping with married women.

-- I had a whole issue with misremembering GFA being set in Tokyo instead of Seoul when I wrote this, so I just wrote with the assumption that Sidney worked at a different hospital and this was a different hospital than the one in GFA so the descriptions were all different, etc, and then I realized my mistake and had to rewrite everything and give a reason for Sidney to be elsewhere lol. On the plus side I got to add in some ominous GFA foreshadowing towards the end.

-- hmmm upon scanning through the fic I've noticed that I had Potter referring to Tommy's boyfriend as 'the kid' at one point, which is kind of funny because I'd used that casual phrasing a couple more times before realizing it could sound kind of skeevy and edited it out. I was envisioning him as like 19-21ish though lol so it makes sense that it slipped through. Anyway everyone's a kid from Potter's perspective, even if he shouldn't know his age.

-- I always wonder about GFA and Hawkeye's claustrophobia, whether he was locked in his room at all. Despite it not being mentioned in GFA I figured I had to address it a little because I like Hawkeye's claustrophobia, so I had Hawkeye feeling a little freaked out but not too bad because it's a big enough ward.

-- I hate writing OCs. I'm not creative, I have zero interest in inventing people, it's a big chore. I usually pick names by looking at bookshelves or lists of people and mixing and matching first and last names at random. Hopefully you can't tell from reading this lol since there are several OCs. I tried to write them pragmatically, to fill a role in the story, and make their vibe consistent. And they're all minor characters so they don't really have to be fleshed out much at least.

-- This was written as a long one shot but when I was finished I figured it would probably be a more approachable read if it was divided into two parts.

-- BJ is awkwardly dancing around the possibility that the accusation is true in his own mind. For me BJ's whole thing is denial lol, I have a few wips from his point of view as well and they're all about him avoiding some kind of truth or revelation. He takes the path of least resistance when he can.

No, if there was even a tiny kernel of truth in the accusation about his friend, it was nothing more than maybe one youthful, experimental indiscretion. Nothing that meant anything about him now, and nothing the army had any business digging up. Radar was just a kid, after all. He didn’t understand the difference.

Also couldn't resist vaguely implying that BJ might've exchanged handjobs with a friend back in the day himself lol.

-- Hawkeye was a happy, confident, successful guy, about as far from the self-loathing, secretive neurotics you read about in the tabloids as you could get.

I also wanted to include this to show how being popular and charismatic and cool could be protection from these accusations. This is something Coming Out Under Fire actually got into - how you were more likely to get accused and discharged if you weren't likeable, whereas funny cool likeable guys got away with camping it up all the time. And the most important thing in the army especially was competence, which Hawkeye also has in spades.

-- The nurses discussion was self indulgent lol, and came out of reading about how widely read and impactful the kinsey report was. DeGroot was a very late addition because I wanted more negative consequences and an example of the witchhunting vibe. Margaret's musing at the end is maybe a little bit redundant after BJ, I realize now lol, since I also kind of imply she had a lesbian experience or two, but it's ambiguous and maybe more easily read as her having had a gay friend. I definitely wasn't aiming for an 'everyone at the 4077 is queer' vibe for this lol, but tbf it's historically accurate for army medical units and the WAC to be statistically very gay.

-- Got to get into some of my Hawkeye headcanons for the interview with McKay, which was fun. I always imagine Daniel Pierce as fairly leftist and cool, which is why Hawkeye is so brash and confident. And Hawkeye has been a popular kid all his life to me, he's no former awkward nerd or wallflower or bullied weird kid. Not homecoming king but friends with him sums his childhood up to me.

-- Not sure Hawkeye should cavalierly mention living in sin with Carlye upon reflection lol, but I don't think it was illegal? Anti-cohabitation laws wrt men and women living together were a thing, but I'm sure would have varied from place to place. I tried to research this once but couldn't find much info though.

-- “Did you imagine marrying her often?” “All the time,” Hawkeye lied. “If she’d said anything before leaving I would’ve proposed on the spot.” That was probably true, honestly. But, with all the clarity of hindsight twice over, he knew it would’ve been a mistake. Carlye wanted things from him that he didn’t have to give; it would’ve dissolved anyway, whether into divorce or into unhappy affairs. She’d probably known that long before he’d figured it out.

My thoughts on their relationship in a nutshell lol. Marriage far from Hawk's mind but something he definitely would've done if she'd asked, and then regretted in short order because they're just not compatible.

-- “Do you want to have children?” “Absolutely.” Whether they were in the cards was anyone’s guess, but given the opportunity he’d order half a dozen.

I see Hawkeye liking kids and potentially wanting kids and being a great father if he had them, but never actually having kids and being fine with that too. And not because of GFA either (though it doesn't help), but because in my headcanons he eventually ends up in a committed relationship with a dude. I have a post-canon wip I will finish where he does find a way to have both, in a way.

-- lol this medical interlude was such a pain to research and write, but I guess I felt like I needed some kind of action so that the whole hospital sequence wasn't just introspection, plus it's an illustration of how poorly they're treated, and how great Hawkeye is in the face of it.

-- Also I really enjoy writing a pissed off Hawkeye pov, his humour gets so biting when he's in a bad mood, and I really lean into that when writing his inner monologue. I might exaggerate that a bit honestly - it happens sometimes in the show, but sometimes he's just humourless when upset. But in my fics he's never humourless lol, unless maybe he's being really emotionally supportive for someone.

-- “I blame the war,” he lied. Blaming the war was like blaming a fire for burning down his house. No, he blamed the arsonists: Truman, MacArthur, America, every army involved, every American Tommy was trying to educate with his book, whoever the hell ordered him into that battle, Tommy’s recruiting officer, Tommy, and his own damn self for not immediately diagnosing him with a heart murmur or sawing off his leg and getting him sent home as soon as he found him in Korea.

I looove the way Hawkeye assigns responsibility to people, rather than treating the war like an inevitability.

-- (oh, sure, he supported the president. He was supplying the guy with half his reading material; he should be earning a salary as Truman's personal entertainer)

Also loooove that it's a recurring thing that Hawkeye writes to the president lol, I absolutely headcanon it as regular stress relief for him.

-- “You know there’s no physiological difference between degenerates and fine, upstanding members of society, right?” he said as he disrobed. “Have you read up on the literature?” the doctor asked, far from innocently. He had, as a matter of fact.

This is a historically accurate depiction of two different professional opinions on the subject, as far as I could tell from my reading, and army doctors did use like hips to waist ratio and various other measurements as evidence of homosexuality. The gag reflex thing is accurate too.

-- I enjoyed how I wrote Potter in this fic as Hawkeye's number one ally but also the representative of the army who Hawkeye doesn't fully trust, and who protects Hawkeye because he's his friend and a good surgeon and an asset to the unit, rather than because he disagrees with the army ideologically. To him it's a stupid thing to care about because Hawkeye is saving lives and investigations are a lot of hassle, but he's not gonna be, like, calling General Imbrie to plead the nurse's case.

There's something weirdly satisfying about writing Potter in general in a "good" role, because I don't like him on the show much and it's fun to kind of subtlely play with his flaws without making him an antagonist.

-- Highlighting the gay ward's party vibe at this point in the story and Hawkeye finding it comforting is mainly a way to make the ending feel worse lol.

And if he did get out of here scot free, then what? Keep his head held high and his sense of humor alive and kicking, or put his head down and just get to the end of the war without losing his surgical career?

The former, he told himself. It had gotten him through almost two years, not just without getting caught, but without losing his mind. One stumble wasn't enough to justify calling off the marathon. And the thought of wrapping himself in olive drab and marching in time with everyone else was so sad it made him want to cry. No. He’d make it through the rest of the war, and he’d do it without changing himself to suit the straight-laced, and just plain straight, sensibilities of his overlords. Then he’d go back home to Boston, take back his old job, and fuck the first guy to look him up and down, just to prove he could.

Like by grouping 'not changing in the army' together with 'going home and fucking a man first thing' I'm implying that Hawkeye's maybe a little overly optimistic here, and the hesitation he ends the fic on might extend back home too.

This is absolutely counter to everything I believe about Hawkeye post war lmao, I 100% envision him living a gay life outside of work, and even in the context of this fic I'd prefer to imagine it as a psychological barrier he'll overcome rather than an ominous omen that he's gonna fully closet himself and live heterosexually ever after, but yk. I also like sadness and misery and the army ruining everything, and that's what this fic is all about, so I gotta at least imply it as a possibility.

-- lol this final good cop bad cop style interview was another very late addition partly so the hospital stay didn't just trail off awkwardly, and partly to parallel the army as a whole. Like the good cop pointedly resembles Potter and Potter even echoes him when he says "who needs the paperwork?"

The point is just that this is a small scale version of what I see happening to Hawkeye throughout the show and this fic, between dad figure Potter and other friendly military faces and the bad cop of military authority behind them, like the whole investigation. He catches the trick in this scene, but on a grander scale he does succumb to that authority more and more as the show goes on, and in this fic ultimately Potter wins a victory over him in a sense with Hawkeye toning himself down to fall in line more.

-- He kept the regulation boxers and socks he’d put on that morning — the underwear he’d arrived in was mixed with the rest of the laundry now, so he figured he was entitled — and everything else went down a laundry chute. “So long,” he sing-songed out loud as he sent them off. “Let’s not meet again.”

lol one of a few ominous GFA references towards the end here as he leaves the hospital (for now)

-- I think my one regret is not having Charles at the welcome back celebration. Honestly I just kinda forgot lol, and his absence feels conspicuous upon re-read.

-- And yeah, love me a bittersweet ending and I think this one was successful. Hawkeye beats the charges, but is confronted with the conditionality of his friendships and cowed into hiding himself a little more along the way. Love that kind of shit.

[irisintheafterglow]

Heyy, van I get a suguru geto x reader based on this playlist pls? Creative freedom, I just enjoy the playlist and your writing

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVNLTHYHuG3QRkaWiIAoNztVS2Ad51M3j&si=R_K3McCdTLK9Vc3H

tell me that you love me, love me till my lips turn blue

summary: for the first time in what feels like forever, you're paired with suguru on a mission. he gets...distracted.

wc: 1.13k

cw/tags: best friends to lovers, some language, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, suguru is the #1 lovesick idiot when you're not around, a little suggestive toward the end but nothing explicit

note: HIII you always have the best requests!! this is short and sweet but i was listening to the playlist nonstop while i was writing and oh MAN was it an experience. like ok powerful reader and powerful bf duo with doja playing in the background?? and then a good ol' makeout session at the end? delicious. hope you like this, thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated :)

“They’re practically lining up, hmm?”

“Guess they’re excited,” you smile contemptuously at the Curse syndicate in front of you, all seven of the most wanted Jujutsu defectors this side of the prime meridian. Your partner on the mission huffs out an incredulous breath and you see him scowl out of the corner of your eye. “Do you need a–”

“Yeah,” he mutters and you wordlessly hand him the black hair tie from your wrist. You always kept extras when you were working together because he was sure to lose the one he brought; it was basically tradition, at this point. “You wanna take this round while I fix my hair?” 

“Sure, be right back,” you say carefreely as you shoot him a wink over your shoulder. He rolls his eyes lightheartedly at your antics and you decide to show off a little bit. Let’s gamble…25%. You stretch your limbs from side to side before raising a hand, sharply pulling it into a fist when you latch onto the energy signatures of the group in front of you. With such a low gamble, the effect of the additional energy is instantaneous; a quarter of the energy for every enemy in front of you basically over-replenished your own reserve. With the supplemental energy and your opponents temporarily stunned from the energy-theft, you send a single arc across the entire group and render them on the verge of unconsciousness. You mentally kick your technique up to 80% and absorb the remaining Cursed energy, leaving the syndicate groaning and incapacitated. After texting the higher-ups to dispatch a cleaning crew, you check on Suguru’s progress with taming his unruly hair. “You good?”

“Mmm, yeah. Just gimme a little longer,” he says absentmindedly, pulling his hair back over and over again until he’s satisfied with it. “I don’t know why I’m bothering with this, since the mission’s basically over. On paper, at least.” 

“Any idea where that last defector went?”

“I sent out a few Curses to go find him, but chances are he’s long gone by now. Satoru will probably end up catching him.”

“Oh, he’s gonna be so mad that he has to, you know, do his job,” you joke and he chuckles softly under his breath. It sounds like sunshine. “Any hard feelings that you didn’t get to save the day?”

“The opposite, actually,” he corrects and the look he gives you has your face burning. “I’m happy I got to see you in action. It’s not often that we’re paired together.”

“I know, and I’m sure you miss your awesome, amazing, gorgeous, talented best friend.” Your elbow knocks against his bicep and he shoulder bumps yours in response.   

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls, waving a dismissive hand and your jaw drops in fake displeasure. “Just admit you missed me, already.”

“Not if you won’t admit it first,” you reply nonchalantly, in stark contrast to the increasing rhythm of your heartbeat. You were walking the ledge of that dangerous cliffside again, on the verge of completely falling for your best friend without knowing shit about his own feelings. It was selfish, allowing yourself to love him, but you couldn’t find the motivation to stop. “Let’s get out of this shithole; I’m craving some of that taiyaki we saw earlier on the–” 

Your words are abruptly cut short by Suguru’s hand gently but firmly covering your mouth while the other hand tugs you into a dark nook of the cave. He quietly shushes you and glances in the direction of the footsteps approaching from around the corner. You don’t focus on anything he’s trying to tell you, though, because your mind is short-circuiting from his proximity and the fact that he hasn’t taken his hand away from your arm. In fact, whether consciously or not, his fingers rub little circles onto your skin and your vision becomes a little starry. You weren’t sure if the affection was to relieve his anxiety or yours, but you sure weren’t complaining.

“Stay here, yeah?” He briefly takes his hand away from your mouth but doesn’t go far, repositioning it beside your head due to the cramped space he’d pulled you into. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, minty from the gum he stole from you in the car. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Gonna take care of that last asshat out there and then come back and,” he inhales, eyes flicking down to your lips for a nearly imperceptible moment, “probably do something stupid.” Before you have the chance to ask what he means, he slips away and you hear the sound of faint rumblings. Chunks of rock crumble on the floor, the thuds mixing with distant pleads for mercy. The iridescent scales of Suguru’s dragon cast rainbows on the walls in the dim light and, before you know it, he’s back in the corner with you, slightly more flushed but just as handsome as minutes prior. “Miss me?”

“Cocky asshole,” you mutter half-heartedly, absolutely sure that he could hear your blood pounding in your ears from sheer adrenaline. He looked intoxicating, staring at you so intensely that your knees were buckling against the wall. The tension was suffocating in the stuffy, dusty atmosphere and your impatience reared its ugly head. “Well?”

“Well,” he breathes, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. 

“You gonna do that stupid thing yet or not?”

“I’m thinking about it,” he admits quietly, one hand brushing the side of your cheek tenderly. “Can I–”

“Stop thinking and just do it, Suguru. I’m not getting any younger–oh,” you murmur, melting into him when he grabs your chin and kisses you with pure devotion. His hand against the wall next to your head turns into his forearm when you pull him as close to you as humanly possible, the other finding your hip and drawing more of those infuriatingly loving circles. When you finally break away long enough to catch your breath, his lips stay on your skin, pressing feather-light kisses to your cheek, neck, and anywhere he could reach. When he finds your ear, he whispers the sweetest little promises that make your head spin. 

“I would die for you, you know,” he says in a low tone that you want to bottle up and inject into your veins. “I miss you so much when you’re out on missions; it drives me out of my mind.”

“I gotcha,” you grin and he raises a sharp eyebrow in question. “I got you to admit you miss me.” 

“Time for you to keep up your end of the deal, sweetheart.” His forehead rests against yours and he lets you greedily pull him even closer, humming when you pull the tie loose and card your fingers through his hair. “Say you missed me too.”

“Mmm. I missed you too, you love sick fool.”

“Takes one to know one, pretty.”

hear that? yeah that's me barking

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick slowly pulled the longsleeve on, keeping his movements even to avoid flinching or showing a grimace of pain on his face.  His teammates wouldn't care if he was injured--would, in fact, sneer at him worse, though Dick could feel Desmond's eyes on him, relentless in smug satisfaction.

The Bludhaven Blockbusters had lost, not that it mattered much to them in the standings.  It was a well-fought game--the Blockbusters had a great offense, courtesy of Dick, but the Jokers' defensive lineup was no, ha, joke.  The score had been close, no team getting more than a two-point lead, until the last period, where Desmond let in an astonishing number of goals.

Almost like he'd been paid off to do so.

"Ready to make up for our loss, Grayson?"  Someone wolf-whistled from the other side of the locker room.  "You have to be good for something, and clearly winning isn't it."

Dick had scored four goals despite the Jokers' defensemen attacking him like a school of piranha on chum.  The fact that they'd marked him so closely had let the rest of the line-up score as well.  Desmond was the one who lost the game.

Not that Dick was stupid enough to say that out loud.  He was well aware he had no friends here.

Dick finished changing into the longsleeve and sweatpants and closed his locker before walking out of the room.  His side throbbed with fierce intensity on every step and he had to force himself not to limp.  He was pretty sure he'd broken something when he'd been shoved against the boards, elbow slamming into his side, but there was no way he was going to go to the medic to get it checked out.

He'd get this over with and ice it in his hotel room.  Along with the rest of his injuries.  And whatever else he picked up along the way.

"What took so long?" Redhorn barked the moment he stepped out.  "Come on, they're waiting."  He marched off, not looking to see if Dick was following, and Dick had to jog to keep up.

His whole body ached, but nothing as much as the hollow inside his chest.  Dick loved hockey.  He loved the ice.  He loved the game, as brutal as it was, didn't mind limping away with a broken rib or five in exhilaration.  He'd been prepared to accept the messy politics of the game, the omnipresent corruption, the money, the paparazzi, and even the more unsavory aspects, like the winner's room that was all but an open secret in the league.

Dick didn't think he liked hockey any more.

The ice was no longer an escape, winning didn't bring any joy, and Dick could feel a part of himself get leached away as he fell over and over in the same trap, stuck in the mire instead of skating above it.  And all because of one scorned woman.

"Richard," the low voice called out from the darkened corridors.  Dick flinched, but he managed to suppress the hiss as his chest tightened.  Redhorn paused as the woman unfolded herself from the shadows, striding forward with a bright red smile.  "Mi amor, you played so well today," the woman hummed, catching his face and kissing both cheeks.  Dick didn't move, carefully frozen still.  "It's such a shame we lost, no?"

Dick didn't say a word.  In a world of sharks, Catalina Flores was the biggest one in the shiver.  Desmond's orders had probably come directly from her.

"It is a shame," Catalina murmured, voice dropping even lower as a manicured fingernail stroked down his cheek.  "I wish you did not have to do this, Richard."  Lie.  "Won't you change your mind, mi amor?  Come with me and I promise you'll never have to do this again."

Dick stepped back, controlled so it didn't look like he was jerking himself free of her grip.  "No," he said, the same thing he said every time she made this offer.  Even the first time he could tell she was bad news, but he didn't realize how bad until he'd seen the consequences of spurning her.

Catalina's smile dropped away to a hard look and flashing eyes.  "Very well," she said, voice cold.  "Enjoy your time with Wilson, then."

Dick had to fight not to blanch.  Wilson?  Slade Wilson?  One of the oldest players in the league, still at the top of his game, strong and fast enough that rumors of doping had swirled unconfirmed for years?  The Jokers' star defenseman, and the very same defenseman that Dick had outwitted with a flashy trick to get his fourth goal?

He could still remember the seething fire in Wilson's eyes.  The man had checked him twice as hard after Dick had shot the puck through his legs, and he was the reason half of Dick's left side felt like it'd been crushed.  And that had been Wilson on the ice, with restraint.

Dick felt faint.  But Redhorn was moving so Dick had to follow behind him, leaving Catalina and her burning glare behind.  The numbness was coming on fast this time and Dick welcomed it, cocooning himself in the fog so he didn't end up hyperventilating.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Blockbusters had lost a game, since Dick had been on the receiving end of hatred and not just scorn, and a part of him wondered how long he could survive this.

Catalina wasn't going to stop.  She clearly wasn't getting tired of him, and his frequent rejections were just making her angry.  Maybe he should give in, accept whatever protection she offered and sell his soul.

He was already in hell anyway.

They approached a plain door and Dick suppressed the panic and hung on to the numbness.  It was getting easier and easier to draw himself down into it, and harder and harder to come out.  "Get to the hotel when you're done," Redhorn growled, turning away without a glance.  "The team's leaving at six in the morning."

That was it.  No instructions on how he was supposed to get to the hotel, or what would happen if he was late, or any kind of support at all.  Just abandonment in the middle of the Jokers' stadium.  Dick luckily knew his way around Gotham, but he wasn't sure how many pieces Wilson would leave him in.

Dick waited until the sound of Redhorn's footsteps had faded away before he reached out and knocked on the door.

The sound felt muted.  Disconnected.  Everything was moving a step behind his mind and Dick blinked when the door opened to a silver-haired man nearly twice his size.

Part of Dick was fascinated by the disparity.  As a winger, Dick was smaller than his teammates, built for agility and not so much for slamming people against the boards.  Wilson was clearly built for his job, a steel wall of muscle towering above him, with ice blue eyes scanning over Dick before settling on his face.  "Come inside," Wilson said.

The room was tamer than most others Dick had seen, looking more like a hotel room than a sex dungeon.  There was a drawer set next to the bed that was clearly for supplies, and a mini fridge, and what appeared to be an attached bathroom.  Dick followed Wilson all the way to the bed and stopped when Wilson turned to face him.

"So, Bludhaven's hotshot new left wing," Wilson said.  This time, his scan was more of a leer, gaze dragging over his body.  "Think those flashy tricks of yours are cute, kid?"

Dick didn't answer.  He knew better than to engage.  Wilson already wanted a punching bag, he didn't need to make things worse.

"I'm surprised no one's beaten that out of you yet," Wilson mused.  "Though I suppose it's my turn to give it a go."

Dick didn't back away as Wilson stalked closer, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You shot four goals," Wilson said, eyes burning.  "How about we start with payback for each one?"

Wilson's grip was stronger than Catalina's, easily shoving him back against the bed as he bent down.  His kiss was equally aggressive, harsh and plundering, and Dick retreated deeper into the fog and let it happen.

There was no point to the fear, it wouldn't save him, it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know.  All Dick could do was try to brace for the pain that was going to follow.

Wilson shoved, hard, and Dick fell back on the bed, sinking instantly into the soft material.  He barely managed to struggle up on his elbows before Wilson crawled on after him, straddling his thigh and shoving him back down, big hands wrapping around his ribs.

Dick couldn't help the gasp of pain.

The grip disappeared immediately, but the throbbing pain was high and searing and Dick instinctively, ineffectually, tried to curl up, hand pressed to his ribs and blinking against his prickling eyes.  Fuck, that hurt, and Dick was suddenly concerned about his ability to take this punishment.  They hadn't even gotten started.

"What happened?" Wilson demanded, still straddling Dick.  "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," Dick said thickly, or tried to say, the pain made everything even more disconnected.

Wilson just scoffed, tugging at his shirt.  "Get this off and let me see.  I don't want your team to accuse me of damaging their precious star forward."

The numbness made it hard to muddle through that sentence as Dick obediently tried to pull his shirt off.  Was Wilson saying he wasn't going to injure him?  Clearly he didn't know the priorities of Blockbusters' management very well, which was great for Dick if it meant Wilson wasn't going to be that rough.

Dick hissed as he tried to pull the shirt up, it was more difficult when he was practically pinned to the bed, and he ended up letting go and trying to breathe past the black spots in his vision when the pain grew too large to ignore.

"Christ, Grayson," the harsh voice said as Dick stared at the ceiling and tried to blink the stars out of his eyes.  "Why didn't you get this treated?"

"It's fine," Dick said, and had to stifle a gasp as Wilson pressed down against the throbbing ache.

"You're black and blue all over, and you haven't applied anything.  Why didn't you go to the medic first?"  There was something approaching alarm in Wilson's voice.

"I'm fine," Dick repeated.  Amy would've slipped some painkillers in his bag and he could ice it when he got back.  "Why do you care?" Dick couldn't stop himself from saying.  "You're the one that caused it."

Silence.

That was a stupid thing to say.  Especially when he was flat on his back underneath the defenseman, utterly at his mercy.  A slow, creeping cold slithered in past the numbness and Dick couldn't even shiver.

Wilson hadn't moved.  His fingers were still resting lightly on what was probably a black splotch on Dick's chest, just waiting to dig in.  Dick had the sudden--and chilling--realization that the state of his body probably gave Wilson a very clear picture of how little Blockbusters' management cared about his injuries, as long as he could still skate.

"Look, can you just get on with it?" Dick said, brain-to-mouth filter completely on vacation.

The fingers moved up, skating across his ribs up to his collarbone.  "I didn't cause this," Wilson said, quiet.

Dick didn't know what he was pointing to.  He tried to crane his neck past the balled-up fabric of his shirt to see, but the movement just pulled at his ribs.

"The one that looks like someone tried to take a bite out of you," Wilson clarified.  "What the hell, Grayson?  Got a vampire partner you haven't mentioned?"

"Don't have a partner," Dick exhaled, flinching as Catalina's image popped before his eyes.  He thought he knew what Wilson was pointing to, but a lot of the Blockbusters liked to use teeth.  Liked to mark him.

"Then who the hell did this to you?"  A pause, and Wilson's voice grew darker.  "The Blockbusters haven't lost a game in weeks."

Dick exhaled and reached for the numbness again.  It flooded him, stronger than before, until it no longer mattered that he was pinned underneath a man that intended to fuck him as payback for scoring past him.  "Doesn't matter," he said, voice light and almost floaty.

"What doesn't matter?"  Wilson sounded thoroughly pissed off now, but that was a problem for Future Dick.  Present Dick was dissociating too hard to care.

"Winning or losing," Dick said.  Introduce the idea of sex for punishment, normalize it, and people would twist it for all manner of things.  Winning just meant that Dick would go to the person on the Blockbusters' line-up that wanted him, and there were a lot of people that wanted him.

Wilson's fingers disappeared and his weight shifted off.  Dick waited for him to come back, another hard kiss, more bruising touches, more pain.  He wondered if he could get back to the hotel before six.  He wondered about how Bruce was doing, whether he watched Dick's games or just blocked out all mention of him after Dick had left his coaching to make it on his own.  He wondered if it would be this bad on any other hockey team.

He wondered if he could go back in time, to little eight-year-old Dick Grayson who loved the ice, and shake him and tell him not to go into hockey.

Wilson was taking an awfully long time.  Dick lifted his head up, and lifted all the way up to sitting when he didn't spot the defenseman anywhere in the room.

A bang of the door showed where he’d gone.  Wilson was glowering now, fury roiling off of him like a stormcloud, but Dick could only stare, unconcerned.  He didn't even flinch when the man advanced on him.

"Get up," Wilson ordered harshly, pulling Dick to his feet and tugging his shirt back down.  "Come with me."

Dick didn't try to fight the casual manhandling and merely trotted after Wilson.

They were leaving the room.  Dick didn't understand why, and everything was moving too slow for him to form the words to ask.  Wilson seemed to know where he was going, darting frequent glances back as if to check that Dick was still there, and Dick followed him, confused and unable to care.

The hallways weren't familiar, but they were starting to get noisy and when Wilson pushed through a door to the sound of loud conversations, Dick realized he'd brought him to the Jokers' locker room.

The thought should've caused shrieking alarm.  Instead, all Dick could feel was a dull pang as he obediently followed Wilson inside.

"Done that quick?" someone jeered as they strode further into the locker room--the majority of the team was still here and Dick's gaze skipped past faces, deliberately not counting them.  "Oooh," there was a chorus of wolf whistles as they spotted him behind Wilson.  "Did you bring him to share?"

Everything felt so far away.  Even the ground.  Dick felt like he was falling and falling.

"Shut up," Wilson snapped.  "And go get Fries."  Wilson turned back to Dick and pushed him back to an empty bench.  "You, sit down."

There was another round of heckling.  "Did you break him already?" someone laughed, followed by crude comments about their relative sizes.

Wilson ignored them, crouching in front of Dick.  "Can you raise your arms?" he asked.  Dick started to lift them but they started trembling the moment they reached shoulder level and Wilson grabbed his arms and pulled them down.  "Never mind," he said, "lean forward and duck your head."

Dick did as he was told, forehead hovering next to Wilson's shoulder as the man curled his fingers in the back of Dick's shirt and pulled it up.  He managed to get it off without any input from Dick, and Dick watched as his arms speckled with gooseflesh.

He didn't feel cold.  He didn't feel anything.

Dick didn't hear laughter anymore.  There was a low whistle and footsteps and suddenly a small crowd surrounding Dick and Wilson.  Their faces were all blurry.  Dick didn't try to make them out.

"Damn, Wilson, what did you do?" someone asked, hushed, and there was a minor scuffle when Wilson aimed an elbow at the speaker.

"Fries is on his way," another voice called out.

"Why didn't you just take him to his own team?" someone else muttered.

"Couldn't find them," Wilson said, voice hard and flat.

More silence.

Another voice, quiet.  "Jones said that he didn't see any of them still here when he left."

A round of sharp inhales and low what the fucks.  "They just left him?" someone asked, sounding horrified.

Wilson was watching him, stare narrowed and intense.  Dick held his gaze, still and quiet, waiting pliantly.  His eyes were a cold blue with flecks of gray.  He had wrinkles on his face.  His hair wasn't actually all gray, some of it was a blonde so light it was indistinguishable at first glance.

"Something's wrong with him," someone said abruptly.

"Uh, yeah, we can see that something's wrong with him--"

"No, I meant, look--" something snapped in front of Dick's face.  He blinked but didn't move.  "See?  He hasn't said anything since he got here.  He hasn't even twitched."

"Wilson, what the fuck did you do?!" the tone was higher, harsher.  Wilson broke his stare with Dick and straightened to turn on the speaker, an argument of growls and hisses.

Someone else settled in front of Dick, bald, with a crinkled frown on his face.  "Hello, my name is Victor Fries," he said, voice slow and calm.  "Can you tell me where you're injured?"

Where wasn't Dick injured was a better question.  Dick mutely pointed to the giant developing bruise on his side, because that was what had caught Wilson's attention.

Dick didn't flinch when Fries began prodding at the wound, tiny jolts of pain fizzling out in the numbness.  Fries frowned, and then frowned even deeper when he met Dick's gaze.  Dick didn't realize that the volume of the argument between the Jokers had risen and fallen until someone abruptly sat down on the bench next to him.

He turned, blinking at Wilson.  Wilson glowered back.  "Well?" he rumbled, turning the glare to Fries.

Fries looked upset.  "Richard--can I call you Richard?"  He waited for Dick's slow nod to continue.  "Do you know where you are?"

Of course Dick knew.  "Jokers' locker room," he rasped.  There was abrupt silence, which was the only reason he realized how noisy the room was before then.

"That's great," Fries smiled tightly.  "Are you feeling cold?"

Dick looked down at his goosebumps.  "No," he answered honestly.

Wilson made a low growling sound.  There was a scuffle of movement and something soft hit Dick in the face.  It was the purple and black of the Jokers' colors and Dick stared at Wilson when the man wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Richard," Fries said, and Dick's gaze swung back to him, ignoring the towel.  "Judging by the bruising, I think you have some broken ribs, though we'll need an X-ray to make sure.  I've been informed that your team has already left, so I can drive you to the hospital and you can call them to meet you there--"

"No."  Dick's fingers were trembling.  He stared at them, lost in the shudders.

"Excuse me?"

"No hospital."  Dick had to clear out his throat.  "I'm fine."  He was so tired.  Everyone was staring at him, and he didn't know why.  He just wanted this night to be over.

"Richard, you really need to get it checked out--"

"I said I'm fine."

Wilson scoffed loudly at that.  "You're not fine," he said, daring Dick to argue.

Dick had to let go of the numbness, pushing up to his feet, but exhaustion swooped in to take its place, leaving him ragged and still distant.  Clearly Wilson didn't like the bruises, but there wasn't anything Dick could do about that.

"You don't get to tell me that," Dick said evenly, watching Wilson's eyes flash and knowing he'd be paying for that soon enough.  "You won.  You get the night and nothing else.  So either take your spoils or leave me alone."

The locker room was dead silent.  Dick realized he had a towel around his shoulders, one of the big, soft, fluffy ones, and he suppressed the urge to huddle further in it.  It was cold and he had to fight not to shiver.

There was probably a more diplomatic way to play this, he could've gotten that ride and then ditched them there, but Dick was so very tired.  He just wanted it over with.

"Fine," Wilson snapped.  Some of his teammates made protesting sounds, but Wilson levered up, shooting them all dark looks.  "Fries, give me some painkillers and an ice pack."  The medic mutely did as he was told, shooting Dick undefinable looks.  "Come on, Grayson, let's get back to the room.  Can't miss out on my spoils."

He twisted the words into a nasty sneer.  Dick would've felt afraid if he had the energy to, but he didn't even have enough to imagine what Wilson had planned.  He just followed the man silently back through the same hallways, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, until they were back next to the bed.

"Take these."  Wilson handed Dick the painkillers and a bottle of water.  Dick thought about pointing out that Wilson didn't have the authority to drug him either, but lost the impulse under the exhaustion.  He swallowed the pills.

"Now get in bed."

Dick crawled up on the bed.  "Do you want me to take off my pants?" he asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

"No."  Wilson casually manhandled him until Dick was on his back, on a pillow, watching Wilson draw the covers back.

Wilson got in after him, and pressed the folded towel to Dick's ribs--Dick hissed at the sudden shock of ice, but then gradually relaxed as the numbing set in.

"What do you want me to do?" Dick said, or thought he said.  It was getting more and more difficult to keep his attention focused on Wilson.  The man was shifting on the bed, sitting next to him, drawing the covers over them, a warm, burning presence at Dick's side.

"Close your eyes," came the order.  Dick followed it.  Maybe it would be easier if he wasn't watching.

He didn't know when the darkness slipped to unconsciousness.

[evilgaygothgf]

I Know What I Said Pt. 2

(a/n: I lost the request for this but here you go anon!)

Quackity x reader (reader is referred to as “girlfriend”)

“Hey, I miss you.”

“Alex, how can you already miss me? I JUST saw you,” you couldn’t help but laugh into the phone. He had just dropped you off at your front door and barely let you make your way inside your house before he was calling you already.

“You don’t miss me?” You could envision his fake hurt facial expression just by the amount of dramatics he was putting into his voice on the other line. “My car still smells like you. It’s almost,” he started fake sniffling on the other line, “it’s almost like you’re still here with me.”

You rolled your eyes and made a loud sigh, hoping he could hear it through the phone. “You are so dramatic”

“And you love it.”

“You know me oh so well.” You couldn’t deny it. His playful side is what drew you in to him in the first place. “Oh, also, I meant to ask you earlier, but do you have plans tomorrow?” You started making your way to your room to get ready for bed while he responded.

“Umm, I know I’m supposed to talk to a few people about doing a stream together this week, but other than that I should be free. What about you?”

You put your phone on speaker and threw it onto your bed while you changed into some sweats and a tshirt. “Hmm, well I was thinking about hanging out with my boyfriend and maybe going on a real first date with him. Do you think he’d want to do that?”

“You know, it’s funny because I was actually thinking about how much I’d want to take my girlfriend on a date tomorrow. Maybe we can go on a double date?”

You laughed to yourself as you flopped onto your bed. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll text you the details and you can meet me there?”

“Wherever you go, I go.”

“Okie dokie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodniiigghhht Alexxx,”you said in a singsong voice.

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, you were blushing and kicking your blankets like a madman. A date? Him calling you gorgeous? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? You woke up pining for your best friend and ended the night with a confession, a kiss, and a date for tomorrow with your best friend turned boyfriend. The days events kept playing over and over in your mind as your stared up at the ceiling.

———————————————————————

You walked into the the front entrance of the art museum and looked around for your boyfriend. You spot him standing near the main entrance to the exhibit and he locks eyes with you, immediately grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but to start smiling right back at him as you walk across the room to where he was standing.

“So your date didn’t show either?” You were confused at first what he was talking about until your remembered your playful convo from the night before.

“Nope. Looks like we both got stood up,” you joked back. “I guess our double date is cancelled. What should we do now?”

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “You know what? The two of us will just go on this date without them. They don’t deserve us anyway.” He leaned over closer to your ear. “Besides, as soon as I saw how cute you look today, I wouldn’t want to be on this date with anyone else.”

You felt the heat rushing up to your cheeks at his comment and hated how easy he could make you blush. It really wasn’t fair. The two of you started heading into the art exhibit and slowly made your way through each room.

You eventually stopped in front of a Maxfield Parrish painting that caught your attention.

As Alex stood next to you looking at the painting, you began telling him all that you remembered about the piece. “This is one of my favorites by Parrish. No matter how many times I see it, I’m still amazed by how a two dimensional painting can look like it’s actually glowing. Oh, and my teacher was explaining to us how this artist used blue so much that-“ you cut your sentence short at the feeling of warmth in your hand. You looked down to your hand to see he had grabbed a hold of it with his own hand and began intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Oh, is this- is this not okay with you cause I can-“ he began spouting out, but you cut him short.

“No, no I promise it’s okay,” you grinned, “I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting it.” You both turned your gaze back to the painting and stood in the silence of the moment. Even with the exhibit being filled with other people circling from sculpture, to painting, to installation, it felt like it was just the two of you in this moment.

Alex broke the silence with a soft voice, “I like the way your hand fits in mine. My little puzzle piece.”

“I swear that is the gushiest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Keep saying that stuff and you’ve got yourself a second date,” you said without averting your gaze from the painting.

“Oh there’s definitely more where that came from.”

[theangelicimp]

Waiting For the Right Time

❮ navigation | mcu masterlist | guidelines | drop a request ❯

Summary: Imagine that Bucky Barnes has a huge little crush on you. Now imagine that he's not the only one who thinks that way.

Word Count: 1,082

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!GN!reader

Warnings: None, just Bucky getting jealous and slightly possessive, mostly fluff. Reader attracts attention from all across the gender spectrum, and is stated to have powers. No Y/N, we don’t do that here. Ambiguous ending ahead!

AO3: here

Bucky’s got a problem, and for once it has nothing to do with his past.

It’s you and the way the sunlight bounces off your brown skin to make it shine. It’s you and the way your smile makes his heart do backflips. It’s you and the way your deep brown eyes look at him with nothing but admiration and care.

Bucky loves you, and he is not ready to do anything about it.

He knows, logically, that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him if he were to confess. You damn near killed yourself trying to save him during a mission in Beirut, when a mercenary lobbed a bomb his way. You plucked it from the air and flew off with it, wrapping yourself in a blue shield just as it went off – you got a nasty scar, and it makes his chest hurt every time he thinks about it. You smile to reassure him when he stares and tell him that it gives you a cool story to tell at family reunions. Worst case scenario, you would let him down gently and ask to remain friends. Even still, the worst-case scenario was apocalyptic to Bucky.

If he were going to confess, he needed to be absolutely sure that you would love him back. That was how things were, and that’s how it was going to stay until Bucky finally found the right time to confess.

Too bad the rest of the world didn’t get the memo to play along with his pining.

You got flowers the morning of June 26; Bucky remembered the exact day because his world came to a screeching halt when he read the note attached to them.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, Know what’s on the menu? Me ‘n’ U~<3 From, Your Secret Admirer”

Bucky should’ve thrown the flowers away as soon as he saw them, should have stomped on them, thrown them in an incinerator, anything to make sure you didn’t see them. People sent you flowers all the time, and you never cared what anyone did to them – you like to joke that you had the opposite of a green thumb.

But he didn’t. He froze, and you came trudging out of your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, wondering why Bucky spent so long outside your door without knocking.

“Aww, corny but sweet,” you cooed sleepily when you read the note. Bucky’s heart squeezed when you said that, and not in a good way. “Any chance these are from you?”

“No. No, they’re not.” Bucky grits out. If he sent you flowers with a note, he would be pouring his heart and soul into the card, not leaving a shitty pickup line.

“Wonder who it is then,” you yawned as you breezed by him.

Bucky spent the day tracking down the secret admirer. It was a random SHIELD agent, lower in the hierarchy, and too cocky for his own good. It only took a single visit from the former Winter Solider to get the agent to back off. Unfortunately, that agent wasn’t the last to pursue you.

When you went for your morning runs, a woman would join you every morning at exactly the halfway mark. She asked you if you wanted to go to the botanical gardens with her; Bucky showed up and pretended that there was a mission at the same time that would have happened. Thank god there actually was a mission to back him up.

When you thwarted a bioterrorist’s attempts to clear out the “undesirables,” you rescued a civilian from falling rubble with a well-timed shield. They offered to make lunch or dinner to repay you for saving them; Bucky waited till your back was turned to tell them that the Avengers didn’t accept food from strangers. Standard procedure and all that. There technically was no such procedure, but it was just common sense not to eat anything made by a stranger, right.

When Tony threw another one of his notorious parties, you were approached by a random well-to-do bachelor. He fancied himself an art aficionado and invited you to a personal showing of a rare Basquiat painting. When you left to get more champagne, Bucky got Sam to distract the man before you could give him an answer. Sam was sworn to secrecy, of course, Bucky would rather you didn’t see this side of him.

“How long are you gonna keep this up, man?” Sam groaned when he came back to the table.

“Keep what up?” Bucky kept his eyes trained on you, your enchanting laugh reaching his ears even through all the blaring music and cacophony of voices.

“This!” Sam gestured at you and Bucky. “It would just be easier to confess at this point. You can’t scare off everyone that goes near them forever.”

He gave Sam a deadpan glare. “I can and I will.”

“You would have to keep an eye on them all the time at that point, you’d basically be stalking them at that point.”

“Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Wait-“

“There’s cafe across the street from their apartment, could probably stake out there.”

“Bucky-“

“You think I could get those little spy cameras from Tony’s lab without him noticing?”

“No! You need to say something to them before someone else asks them out and they say yes.”

“’S not the right time.”

“Man, someone else is gonna snatch them up while you’re busy waiting for the right time!” Bucky left before Sam could finish talking; another woman had sidled up your table.

As much as he hated to say it Sam was right.

Bucky hated this; the constant vigilance of chasing away would-be suitors, the way his heart squeezed every time he saw you smile at someone that wasn’t him, the fear that you would pick someone else before he could show you how much he loved you.

So on a cold November 12th, Bucky woke up earlier than everyone else in the tower to finally enact his plan. He went to the only shop open in Brooklyn for a fruit bouquet – filled with all the fruit he knew you liked and drizzled with chocolate. He dressed in the outfit Steve had helped him with – something casual, but made to impress. He put on your favorite playlist – Etta James, and Al Green, and Aretha Franklin.

With everything in place and his nerves at an all-time high, Bucky took a deep breath and knocked on your door.

Original A/N: Little something I thought up that I had to get out before I forgot or something, hope y'all enjoy! It was inspired by another post that I haven't been able to find, but it takes place in the 40s right before Bucky is shipped out to the warfront. If anyone can find it please let me know!

[natsuphoria]

if i politely asked for kuro + koga with an s/o (they/them) whos physically affectionate would i get a smooch from jes

HONEY MY BABY EVER !! i smooch u on the cheek regardless but you'll get an extra one just for this + multiple smooches from kuro and koga :3 i decided to do hcs for this one – if you’d like a scenario instead feel free to req again <3

kuro & koga w. a physically affectionate s/o

no mentions of reader's pronouns, gn reader

kuro’s no stranger to physical affection – i like to think his little sister was constantly clinging onto him when they were younger – so it's not something that catches him completely off guard.

when you first do it, he'd be slightly surprised, and perhaps a little flustered at the proximity. ah, he's so close to the person he loves… 

wide eyes + red cheeks combo teehee. he thinks it’s adorable how enthusiastic you are about showering him in your affection. 

soon, though, he's looking down at you with the fondest smile. he loves you so, so much okay he's down so bad. he’ll probably pat you a little or even give you a forehead kiss :>

we all know this man is strong. he’d totally drop everything to catch you if you run at him.

wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting and spinning you with ease… you’re giddy; from him or the spin? who knows…

at the beginning of your relationship, he wouldn’t initiate hugs or physical affection that often, but once he realises how much you like it he’s much more inclined to do so! he’s the kind of guy to place a warm, gentle hand on your lower back to guide you… it’s so comforting and grounding.

i also think you two are always holding hands in some way, maybe even linking pinkies bc you’re cute like that.

he’d 100% let you clamber onto his lap and shower his face in kisses. just. holds onto your waist and chuckles quietly until you’re done. 

overall he’s pretty receptive to physical affection, to the point where he adopts your mannerisms himself <3

koga under the cut!

now koga’s more of an enigma.

listen up now, he loves you, but he’s not gonna let that sully his tough guy image, ya got it? >:|

jokes aside, he’s likely to be eeeever so slightly put off by it at first, especially in the presence of his unit mates.

but he notices the way your face drops, the way you seem almost disappointed, and his heart squeezes. he never wants to upset you. you mean so much to him, and he never wants to be the cause of your tears.

you two talk about it and you agree to stick to a few rules. amazing. we stan communication in this household.

one, hand-holding is fine in public. he lets you cling onto his arm, play with his fingers, trace the lines on his palm… he also starts silently squeezing your hand three times, a secret code for i-love-you when he’s not able to say it out loud. 

two, quick pecks are also okay. the other members of undead have often seen koga pressing his lips to your forehead, pulling away to give you the most lovestruck look ever. (koga would deny this so hard but his cheeks are incredibly red. no one's believing him.)

three, he’s completely at your mercy in private.

as much as he pretends to be rough and tough, this boy will absolutely melt when faced with your affection. he’d be weirdly quiet… but it’s just because he doesn’t know how to react!

boundaries are great and all, but that’s not to say he’s never going to show affection in public! he’s not as direct as you are, but that doesn’t make his ministrations any less valuable – an arm casually slung around your shoulder, or a hand playfully ruffling your hair... these are common, simple ways he expresses his love physically.

he’s a good cuddler, i think. he starts off all stiff limbs and pink cheeks but when he gets comfortable it’s a 10/10 experience for you both.

he’ll absentmindedly drag his fingers across your skin… just lying there, thinking about you both… what a simp.

overall, pupiy : ‘i have no need for affection bark bark bark woof… well fine i guess it’s okay if it’s you. hmph.’ ← secretly loves it

[sris-skies]

RESCUE SHELTER- junghoon xikers

it was odd. there was only one other person from her course who volunteered at the animal shelter, and yet the two had never spoken in the three months that they had been working together. sure there were the unspoken conversations during the volunteer hours at the animal shelter, mainly along the lines of ‘pass me the kibble?’ or ‘that’s where the nail clippers are’, leaving her with (infuriatingly) no clue on what this cute stranger’s name or interests are.  

she pushed open the door of the animal shelter, the bell above the door tinkling softly as if to announce her presence to the animals. she moved to the staff room, dropping her bag into a locker and putting on an apron and sanitary gloves. huh, the cute guy’s things aren’t here, that’s weird, he was always on shift with her, maybe he just wasn’t scheduled for today… 

she shook her head, erasing her thoughts, they wouldn’t help her whilst taking care of stray animals. her shift was quiet and uneventful, some of the animals put up a fight when taking their medicine, but that was about it. the cute boy never showed up throughout her whole shift, dampening her mood- not that she’d ever admit it. 

over the next three weeks, the cute guy didn’t show up once to his shifts at the animal shelter. she tried so hard to spot him in all of their shared classes, only to spot nothing. his unexplained absence was driving her near crazy, to the point where her friends had even picked up on her strange behaviour, begging her to tell them what was going on. once she caved and confessed that she was curious where he was, her friends laughed at her troubles, most unable to understand why she hadn’t asked his name or even tried to talk to him during their shared classes or even at the rescue shelter. 

she took a deep breath, the group of laughing boys making her feeling nervous. her friends had- after they’d stopped laughing- helped her find out who his friends were so that she could ask them about how he was doing. the cute strang- junghoon- she couldn’t keep calling him the ‘cute stranger’, especially not to his friends, was apparently very close to nine other boys at the university, all doing different courses, so hopefully, at least one of them would know where he was. 

she finally approached the group, clearing her throat softly to try and get their attention, freezing for a split second when they turned to look at her, the weight of nine pairs of eyes on her feeling intimidating. “uhm, hi, sorry to bother you guys but uhm, I volunteer with junghoon at the animal shelter and share classes with him and I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks and I just wanted to know if he was doing ok” she said, words almost blurring together from her nerves. 

“junghoon? yeah, he’s just at home recovering, why?” one boy answered pretty quickly, seemingly genuinely confused why she was asking. “oh! you’re y/n! you volunteer at the shelter with him, don’t you? junghoonie always ta-” a different boy piped up enthusiastically, getting cut off by someone’s hand over his mouth. that was odd, how did junghoon even know her name? she didn’t even know his until half an hour ago! “uh yeah, I am y/n, I just got a bit worried…” she said hesitantly, feeling a little nervous as the group of boys began grinning kinda mischievously. “yeah, he’s just recovering at home, why don’t you drop by and pay him a visit, I’m sure he’d love that” one of them snickered, another already pulling up his address to give to her, the whole interaction becoming a fast blur that even she could barely keep up with. 

the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed in her head. ‘oh god, what if those guys were just playing a joke on me? what if this is just some random person’s house and not junghoon’s. what if he thinks i’m weird for just showing up, oh my god i am weird for showing up, i should just leav-’ her thoughts were cut off by the door opening, revealing junghoon, looking, understandably, confused as to what she was doing here. “u-uhm hi junghoon, uh, you didn’t come into the shelter or to class for the past three weeks and I got a bit worried about you so I asked your friends if I could check up on you” she said, internally cheering as she managed to get through her words without stuttering too much or sounding too much like a creep. she hoped. “oh, right. I had surgery on my knee and was told to stay at home.” he answered bluntly. his blunt answers scared her slightly, her thoughts running a little too fast for her liking. “ah, I see, well uhm, I brought you some chicken soup and a copy of my notes from the classes you weren’t present for” she said, handing over the items for him to take. he took the items, a faint smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “thanks, y/n, I should be back next week. I’ll see you then” he answered, nodding his thanks to her. catching the hint, she bid him goodbye, walking quickly away, internally cursing herself for how cold the interaction seemed. 

he watched her walk away, his smile growing a tiny bit more as he put her gifts on his table, throwing away his own notes that he’d taken from the past three weeks, having watched the online lectures instead. she really was cute, and he couldn’t wait to get better. 

-

happy birthday almost twin haha! hope you feel better soon and rejoin, we miss you!

[partiallypearl]

on the note of kendall’s music taste.

i am firm believer that he would be a noah kahan fan. probably finds him through false confidence and is like oh this slaps. fast forward a few years while he’s in quarantine, stick season drops.

he hears the line, and i’ll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose, and it’s like he’s in high school again shortly before la.

and when stick season the album comes out, he listens to the entire album top to bottom.

he cries to homesick while thinking about katie. she’s still in la. going to business school so she can become the talent manager she’s always wanted to be. and the lyrics, i got dreams but i can’t make myself believe them, for whatever reason make him think of his baby sister. and how she’s working on her dreams. has been since she was 8 years old.

halloween makes him think of lucy. they haven't spoken since her and james broke up in 2014. their friendship was never the same after he chose jo. sometimes, in the middle of the night, he wonders what life might have been like if he had chosen lucy. he hears the chorus, it's not halloween, but the ghost you're dressed up as, sure knows how to haunt, yeah, she knows how to haunt, every time he looks at lucy's instagram.

new perspective reminds him of carlos. he's a stunt double now. married to alexa, and they have three kids. every now and then, carlos jokes about putting his old hockey helmet back on. says he wants to show his kids that it's okay to be daredevils. the lyric, attention deficit kids in their gym clothes, paper bags drift wherever the wind blows, plays when he drives down the 405, and he considers driving up to santa barbara and seeing carlos and his family. he doesn't.

all my love is a james song. they’ve grown apart due to time and distance and james’ solo career taking him far away both physically and emotionally. he’s proud of him though, proud of the man he’s grown to become. he hears the lyrics, there ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love, you got all my love, and he watches james performing at the grammys and winning all the awards that kendall always thought his friend would, and he thinks yeah, he really does have all my love.

logan’s harder though. i think kendall would struggle to choose a song for him until stick season deluxe comes out and call your mom comes on. he thinks back to all the times that logan saved his ass, saved all of their asses truthfully, and the lyric, don’t let this darkness fool you, all lights turned off can be turned on, i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night, i’ll call your mom, i think that’s the lyric that gets him. reminds him of the toughest times while they were in la, and he wanted to leave so goddamn badly and logan reminded him that they were doing this for james. that they were doing this to help their friend, that they owed it to him. i think it also reminds him of the few short months where logan was doing his residency and kendall was playing for the minnesota wild and they got to hangout together occasionally and just that hopefulness of having someone who knows you so intimately being there for you.

and just yeah. kendall + noah kahan is kind of everything to me

[sunlightfeeling]

“See You There” Concert Experience

2024.11.24 @ Port Messe in Nagoya

okay so firstly: i genuinely dont have any pictures or videos; guidelines were VERY strict to not do that and i didn’t want to play with fire even though I technically saw one person sneak at least one photo lmfao

except for this:

: )

+ map of the venue the “x” is approx. where i was sitting - i was an aisle seat; seventh row back from the front right-side; the black line in the middle represents the center stage runway thing

(it was assigned seating - I had no clue where I sitting until receiving the ticket from staff - and I have no idea how/when the seating is decided)

also idk if it really needs to be said but im not gonna do like a song play-by-play or write this in any sort of actual organized fashion

also I’ll probably need to make more of these because of flaky memory and horrendously long and yadda yadda yadda im v sorry lol

(i don’t wanna draft these too long and beautify/nitpick them too much so all spelling/grammar issues don’t exist and if you notice them fixed.. they were always like that 😇)

okay with thaaaat out of the way~

I can’t describe the feeling seeing him when he got out on stage like…..he just looked unreal

like not just drop dead beautiful but like a feeling of “holy fuck this dude actually exists” lmfao 😭

it’s just very bewildering after watching so many things with him behind a camera to now being within your own personal presence

I really don’t have an ego or whatever and even the times where im like “d-did he just look at me there?” it kind of feels like a joke but….i like to pretend that he did at least at some point (to which I immediately deny and it and pretty much say “no … lol~ 🤭”)

there are two..three moments that really make me wonder tho like genuinely/actually/not me being big headed lmao

smap songs were “One Chance” which is a solo so really only half-smap 😔; “ダイナマイト”; and “KANSHA して”

he did two (I’m pretty sure it was two lmao 😭) rounds going on the trolley thingie for a few songs to go around the perimeter, and he swung one of his legs over the cage and just let it dangle to show how bendy he still is at least twice

Both rounds included the smap songs (One Chance on the first, other two were back-to-back on the second) which kind of felt really special??? Like……it just made me remember the smap cons that I’ve watched (and tsuyoshi perpetually getting himself into precarious situations on the stupid things 😭 [i knowwww 😒 {affectionate/lighthearted}])

something that will probably live in my head rent-free (that I HOPE he does in the actual filmed con footage not only for everyone to SEE it but because I already can’t accurately visualize it 😭) is that in Crazy Party when he says “sexy” he made THE MOST absurd and hysterical expression like making himself bug-eyed and just a very not calm/cool/demure face that matches his voice (omfg that voice…..wakes up sorry)

He made himself cross-eyed three times at the very least - probably more tho

I really tried to look AT him as much as possible but there were moments where I really just COULD NOT see him or it was just…more incentivizing? to look at the front display..

(ie when he would pop his fucking jacket open and just….expose arm (we love arm) which he did WAY TOO MANY FUCKING TIMES)

..but I did stare at his back quite a bit 😗

His outfit around when he did “No Night, No Starlight” was my ultimate fave which absolutely shouldn’t be surprising and I think it’ll be everyone’s too

which is why I won’t spoil what it looks like (it’s PEAK peak tho im virtually pinkie-promising all of you)

After NoLiNoStar, he did an MC where I think (mostly going off of his mannerisms and understanding v select words so 🙃) he talks about the difficulty of the choreo for this song and like….idk probably that he’s getting too old for this shit

personally I think he should have done a backflip and he probably CAN still do one but hey! that’s just me…… 😔

sorry to spoil but yeah there is no backflip revival I know it was on all (my) of our (my) mind 😔😔

okay there’s def going to be a part 2 but I’ll write more later waaaaah byeeeee 😭😭😭