#though at this point not entirely proud cause I do not like that guy much these days

[bapydemonprincess]

Here have some crusty ass doodles I found as proof I've been into Kuro longer than I have had this blog 💀

[giannaln4]

I Missed You

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You missed seeing Lando being happy after a race, and you couldn't wait to tell him how proud you were.  (1.4k words)

warnings: fluff, stablished relationship, a bit of mclaren slander

a/n when i tell you i loved this idea SO SO much. i’m not too sure i’m happy with how this turned out but i really hope you guys enjoy it 🩷 i apologise for posting this just before the race but it was a bit hard to get started for some reason 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The weekend in Monza was one you were hoping to forget. The tension in the air reflected not only in the team but also in the comments people were making about it, having even sports commentators and content creators question McLaren’s entire strategy to keep their fighting position in the WCC and also have a shot at the WDC. 

Lando’s demeanour immediately after getting off the car was something you would never forget, though, even if you tried. It was pretty obvious for everyone, even if he tried his hardest to never say something bad about his team and his teammate. That team was his home anyway. He had been with McLaren even before his F1 career started, and even after weekends like this one, he would never doubt he wanted to achieve great things with them.

That is probably what made it harder for him. This year they were competing not only for points and podiums but for something bigger, and after knowing what he is capable of, ending up in that position absolutely crushed him, and you hated to see him debating with himself. 

Once the weekend was finally over and you were leaving Italy, you wanted to make him feel better, telling him how great he was and how proud you were. You even shot some comments at McLaren for everything that went down, but he didn’t want to hear it; he barely wanted to talk about it, so you just dropped it. You understood him anyway, so you had to leave everything behind and just be supportive of your boyfriend.

You were hoping this weekend would be different, better, everyone was, and there was a lot of talking in the team that they would make the right decisions to keep fighting now that they had the chance. This, of course, would only mean something until they actually proved it during the race. 

Lando was in a better mood coming into this weekend; he trusted his team and he was confident they were backing him up. That was until the qualifying came. A yellow flag being pulled out by mistake during Q1 caused him to lose the opportunity to even put up a fight, and he ended up being P17. It wasn’t even his fault, but you knew he was beating himself up for that result. 

“Lando,” you called him right after he came back to the garage to watch the rest of the qualifying. He looked at you with a disappointed smile. “It’s not your fault, baby.”

“I know.” He pulled you into a hug, not wanting you to worry about him too much. “There’s nothing I could have done. We just have to wait and see what we can do tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” you replied into his chest, rubbing small circles in his back to let him know you were there for him, no matter what. 

“We’ll see. The car felt okay, but it’s hard to overtake on this track. It’s quite a long straight.” He let out a nervous giggle as he pulled away; he didn’t sound as confident as you were hoping, but you knew he was right. “Some of it is just going to have to cross our fingers.”

There was no point in fighting him when he got like that, so you just nodded. “I’ll be crossing everything I have then.”

He went off with the rest of his team as you stayed back to watch the rest of the cars complete the qualifying. The air was starting to get tense again, and even though you knew everyone was nervous with Lando’s result, you weren’t sure if it was just your own feelings talking. But like Lando said, you were going to have to wait and see what the team could come up with, you were just hoping they would do the right thing.

Race day was finally here, and with Lewis starting from the pit lane due to a new power unit and Pierre being excluded due to fuel flow rate, Lando had been promoted to P15. Sure, it would have been better if Lando had the chance to fight for his starting position, but at least that was something. 

You could see he was still not completely confident in how the race would go, but you trusted enough for the both of you. 

Watching the race from the garage was something that always made you incredibly nervous, but especially in this position. But Lando managed to get to P12 by lap 2, and everyone was incredibly excited by his overtakes. 

As the race went on and he felt more confident with the car, he started to climb his way up to the top 10, trusting the team’s decisions with the strategy they were sticking to, and you were so glad everything was falling in place. 

The rest of the race still made you bite your nails at how nervous you were, but the bliss in the entire garage when he overtook someone was indescribable. He was driving the race of his life, and even the radios he exchanged with the team radiated that. As always, the last few laps were nervewracking, but the fact that he made it all the way to P6 and was even helping Oscar with his own race left everyone with a good taste. Not a complete terrible weekend after all. 

During the last lap, however, an unfortunate crash between Carlos and Checo pushed him to P4, meaning he gained 11 positions during the race; not that you ever doubted him, but seeing him end up there with the fastest lap after an absolute mess of the qualifying made you excited to see him. After confiming everyone was okay, you took the liberty to celebrate your boyfriend’s race.

Lando got out of the car and went to greet his team, cheers and smiles all over the place. Everyone was praising him for the incredible work he made, and his smile didn’t go away for a second the entire time. 

You knew you would still have to wait to congratulate him; he still had to do media before coming back to his room, where you were waiting for him, but seeing him so happy in the monitors made you grow impatient. 

It felt like it had been a while since you saw him so happy after a race.

After what felt like forever, you heard him come back to the garage. You stoop up from the small couch and opened the door, where you were greeded by your boyfriend. 

“Hey, you.” You said, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, smile so big you could see his dimples.

“That was amazing, Lando. I knew you would do amazing, but I can’t even describe how proud I am.” 

He smiled even more at your words. He closed the distance between you when he took a few steps, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. You could even feel him smiling then, and that filled your heart.

“Thank you; it was a good day,” he said when he pulled away, looking down at you with loving eyes. “I think everything worked out.” You just nodded as you admired him.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you brushed a few curls that fell on his forehead.

“What do you mean? We’ve been together the last three weeks. You saw me just before the race." To say he was confused was an understatement, and you could see it in his face.

“I mean you, this. I missed seeing you so happy and smiley. Looks good on you.”

Lando was a bit embarrassed by your confession; he thought he did a better job at hiding how much the results affected him, at least to you. It was never his intention to be so down when he was with you, but man, was he endeared by your words. “I needed this,” was all he said, and you know he was right. And it wasn’t only him; you knew the team needed this as well.

“I know, and I know you hate to hear it, but I told you.”

He let out a laugh, not a nervous one this time. “Yes, you did,” he hugged you again, much tighter as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. “Thank you for being here and supporting me, even during my bad times.” He spoke with so much sincerity. 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[personasintro]

A part of Mutual Help series!

pairing: mh!jungkook x reader

warnings: explicit language, Kiko is mentioned (this deserves it's own warning)

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: Merry Christmas! ♡

Mutual Help Series

.

.

“Oooh, what could be in here?” Taehyung muses, pursing his reddened lips that has gotten its own intense color thanks to the cold weather outside. 

What was he doing outside when you've been at this place for around an hour? Flirting, of course. 

“Knowing you, probably tons of condoms.” you answer, causing Taehyung to stop shaking the present he's just gotten from Jimin. It stops rattling under his grip as he shoots you a glare across the table. 

Unfazed, you reach with your chopsticks for a piece of meat before you put it in your mouth. Next to you, Jungkook cackles under his breath and Jimin looks proud by your little comment. 

“Well, miss I-don't-need-anyone, we all like to have our fun. Maybe you should try it.” Taehyung bites back. Though his tone sounds serious and deep with his thick accent, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

You know how far you can take it to joke with each of your friends. Taehyung's got a thick skin and there's only so little you could actually say to offend him. Not that you would ever want to. Taehyung loves jokes and fun, he loves teasing and most of the time he's the one who takes it too far but never to actually cause a damage to your friendship. Whatever he says, you know should not be taken to heart literally. Therefore, no matter what he says about your single life – you don't take it as an insult. 

“Hooking up with a bunch of strangers? No thanks.”

He grins, ��Maybe you should try it.”

“You offering?” you shoot right back, Jungkook choking on his soda as Jimin laughs out loud.

“You know what? Once you grow up a little, text me.”

You snort, “Stop acting as if I was a child.”

Taehyung shrugs, “No, but you're the baby of our group.”

Groaning, you frown. “Don't call me that.”

“Deny it all you want, Y/L/N but we all know the truth.”

“You guys scare almost every guy that looks at me. It beats the point of having fun.”

“Don't say shit like that, now! I'm all for you exploring and having fun.”

“Our point of fun is slightly different than hers, Tae.” Jimin comments, putting more meat to your plate as you thank him with a grateful smile. For the meat, of course. Although, he's not that off about the entire fun topic. 

“We all know what kind of fun we're talking about.”

“Alright, let's move on, yeah?” Jungkook calls, shaking his head at Taehyung.

“Here we go, protective Jungkook.”

“Why do you always somehow bring up sex in every conversation?” Jungkook scolds him.

Taehyung gasps, feigning offense as he points his finger at you. “First of all, she started talking about condoms!”

Jimin laughs out loud while you shoot him a glare for being too loud. God, you hope the owners won't kick you out. Talking so publicly about sex is often frowned upon. No one who wants to enjoy their meal wants to hear someone talking about sex from the other table. Unless those people are… open like Taehyung. He's always been a bit shameless. 

 Jungkook glances at you upon Taehyung's finger that's directed toward you. You shrug innocently. “So what? You automatically got into it.”

“You know it doesn't take too much for me.”

“That's true.” Jimin nods along with Taehyung's response. 

You laugh, “Just open the goddamn present, Tae.” 

He cracks a grin and starts laughing before he rips the package open. Surprisingly, it's not condoms – you would seriously laugh your ass out if it were – but it's a box of popular male fragrances in smaller versions. You recognize all of them, silently praising Jimin for this year's present. 

You all exchange presents for each other. There was an idea coming from Jimin, you think, last year to pick up a secret Santa for each year. But there's something special and thoughtful about buying everyone a gift. And it makes a slight burden to all your wallets, but nobody said the presents have to be expensive. Yet, they're always meaningful and nobody gives shitty presents here. 

You meet every year before Christmas since all of you spend it with your families. You've decided to make your own and celebrate it together, even if it's beforehand. This year it has to be because you're flying back home sooner than usual. 

They were kind enough to meet no matter what, said it wouldn't be the same if you weren't here. 

After that is done, Jungkook is the one to take you home since Taehyung came to pick you up. There's fog everywhere with snow sitting down and not melting anytime soon. You love when there's snow around Christmas time.

On your way home, it's not that late by the time you arrive. Jungkook helps you with your presents upstairs and accepts a cup of tea you offer him with a stern look. You're quick to shed the layers of clothes and make yourself more comfortable. You bring Jungkook his tea and make a hot chocolate for yourself.

“What you got in there?” you ask, plopping next to him as the warmth and scent of home hugs you. 

“A little something,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

Spotting the same Christmas wrapping paper he has used for all his presents, you give him a knowing look. You're about to protest and scold the shit out of him when he shakes his head with another grin. 

“Stop.”

“No, you stop!” you whine, “You already gave me your present.”

And it was great. Jungkook has given you two tickets to a water park that's located on Jeju Island. That alone tells you it wasn't quite cheap.

“It's not much, I swear.” 

“But why? We all decided on one present.” 

Grateful that he's so thoughtful, you're slightly annoyed that he broke the rule that perhaps never was so serious but it makes you feel bad. 

“Just because.”

“That's not a valid reason.”

“Sounds very valid to me,” he sings out, teasing you a little further as you both giggle. “You'll understand it once you open it.” he finishes it with that, urging you to open it.

Hiding the heat in your cheeks, you playfully roll your eyes and start unboxing the little box he has managed to sneak in his jacket. Curiosity and excitement takes over you because Jungkook's presents are always something else. You rip the package and gasp as soon as you recognize the familiar box.

“Kook!”

“You told me you ran out the other day.”

“Did you–”

“Bought it when Jimin bought Taehyung's present? Yeah.” He answers, already knows what you were about to ask. But you're too stunned to scold him for interrupting you.

You open the box and pull out your favorite perfume. A few weeks ago, you don't even know how that conversation came up but you mentioned to him that your perfume is running out indeed. It wasn't anything intentional of course, more of a whine when you were about to spray a tiny amount as you were about to go out. You thought he was barely listening to you, urging you to rush out your ass outside. His exact words. 

But he's always listening. 

“I think I'm gonna be more careful what I'm about to say in front of you. You're gonna buy me everything I mentioned.” you chuckle, taking a good inhale of your favorite flowery and powdery scent. You mostly use it during warm seasons but it's a good one even in the winter.

It's your staple scent. Everyone knows it. It's special. You were using it back at home and it not only smells incredible, it also holds a certain emotional attachment you have with it. 

“Don't worry about that, you're out of my budget.” 

You kick the side of his thigh as you cross your legs under your butt, carefully placing the bottle on the table next to the ripped wrapping paper. “I wanted to buy it after Christmas.” 

“You don't have to anymore.”

You give him a look, questioning his answer for everything as he simply justifies his thoughtfulness in the most basic manner. He always brushes it like it's nothing. But it's very special to you. He is. 

In seconds, you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly. He lets out a surprised gasp, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he hugs you back. He's warm, smells like a mixture of his wooden cologne and winter air. 

“Thank you.” you mumble into his shoulder before you slowly pull away. “But seriously, you should stop spending so much money on me. Don't you have a girlfriend to spend money on?”

As far as you know, she's fine with it but who knows. Jungkook isn't the type to let anyone get into your or guys' friendships. But he's also in love and people in love tend to be slightly blind, if you must say so. Not that you speak from your own experiences but well, it's quite known. And Jungkook is definitely in love. 

“Don't worry about Kiko,” he assures you, “She'll get a good amount of presents too.”

“Well, I hope she loves you for you and not for your bank account.”

He scowls, causing you to give him a childish toothy grin that acts innocent. “She's not like that.”

“But I'm serious, you should stop spending so much money on people. Especially on me.”

“I spend my money however I want and you know what?” he asks with a grin, leaning closer to you as you watch him with wide eyes. “It's none of your business.” he flicks your nose with his thumb causing you to cuss him out as you push his forehead to get him away from your proximity. 

“So really, just accept it.”

“You're stubborn.”

“You're telling me?” he laughs out loud as if you just told him the biggest joke.

Rolling your eyes again, you purse your lips. “I wanted to be nice, you moron.”

“Be nice by just accepting it. And the simple thanks is just enough, not needed though. The hug was very nice.”

You slap his arm in a teasing manner which causes him to laugh even more. “I'll hug you for the rest of my life.”

“Promise?” he smirks. 

“I promise.” you giggle, nodding.

“Well, then Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Kook.” you smile, the warmth spreading all over your heart. Even though this year hasn't been all rainbow and sunshine, it's alright as long as you have these people right beside you. 

Who cares about presents? They're nice and show the thoughtfulness behind them by each of your friends. What you need the most is just them. And the special relationship you have with each of them will hopefully last your lifetime. Because if it doesn't, nothing will ever be the same. 

Without them you would feel lost. At the moment, you're anything but lost. You have your second family, hoping this tradition between you never dies and will continue years and years.

[mingtinys]

" i would do anything for you "

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : traffic violations ( for a good cause ! )

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : it's bittersweet posting this last part of the series :( i'm so sad for it to end cause i've had so much fun , but i couldn't be happier with how it turned out ! thank you to everyone that showed this series so much love and support <3 next up .... an nct series !!

Maybe you're just being paranoid. Perhaps the scratching at your back door wasn't some crazed killer messing with you before the inevitable. In fact, it's extremely likely you've simply stayed up too late and now your brain is playing tricks. But are you willing to take that chance? Absolutely not.

The fifth scratch comes and you're picking up the phone to dial the first person you can think of.

Chan reaches your home at a speed only possible by violating a few traffic laws. Armed with nothing but a broken broomstick and his dinosaur bedroom slippers. You're not even sure he's entirely awake. But he marches his way through your home and straight to the back door with conviction, advising you to stay back while he handles it.

He lowers his voice a few octaves as he speaks. "Whoever is out there, you better knock it off!" The scratching noise picks up. "I'll come out there!" Chan warns, though sounding a little unsure. Yet the scratching never ceases.

At this point, the genius thought to call the police finally enters your panicked brain. Something that probably should have been your first instinct. But it's too late, you can hear Chan thrusting the door open. "Alright, you asked for it– oh..."

When your savior returns, a fluffy orange creature in hand, you feel your face drain of all color. Your friend's cat. The one you were supposed to be sitting while they were away on a business trip. You'd forgotten you'd even let him outside to explore hours ago.

Chan points to the cat with a mock-serious look, "Is this guy bothering you, babe?"

Though severely embarrassed, you let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry, Peanut," you coo at the cat, carefully taking him from your boyfriend's arms and carrying him over to his food, which you're certain is what he was scratching to get in for.

When you spin back around, Chan's arms are crossed over his chest, an expectant look on his face. "You know, usually the knight in shining armor gets a kiss for his bravery."

The playful tone in his voice alleviates some of the guilt you feel for calling him over at two a.m. to defend you from a killer cat. A gesture for which you're more than happy to reward with a kiss or two. And once he's claimed his prize, Chan happily gathers you in his arms. He rubs circles into your back, soothing any remaining anxiety in your muscles.

"I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothing," you mumble into his shoulder. "I guess I watched one too many crime shows and sort of panicked."

"You don't need to apologize. It's my job to be here whenever you need me." He pulls back and takes your face in his hands, holding your gaze with genuine eyes. "I would do anything for you."

That confession earns him a second kiss, causing him to break out in a dopey grin. "My hero," you tease, although he looks rather proud of himself for it.

"One question though?"

"What's that?"

"If you thought someone was trying to break in, why didn't you just call the police?"

Trust, Chan is over the moon to be the person you call in a time of need. But realistically, what was he supposed to do? Fight to the death with his bare hands and a broomstick to save you? He absolutely would... doesn't mean he'd win.

You pause. "I don't know, I guess I just panicked and thought of you first."

Chan is probably going to be riding that ego boost for the rest of his life.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @armycarat2612

[noahsmuse]

adore you

✮ PAIRING: noah sebastian x reader

✮ SUMMARY: headcannons about how i think being in a relationship with noah would be like!!

୨୧ he’s a gentlemen first and foremost!!!! he holds your shopping bags, will literally RUN in front of you just so he can hold the door for you, pulls your seat out in restaurants and opens the car door for you when your getting inside and out of the car

୨୧ he notices everything new about you, did you re-dye that one part of your hair? he knew it immediately. he’s a very observant guy and always compliments how you look, saying that your hair, makeup, outfit etc. looks amazing especially if he can tell if your experimenting with new looks and products

୨୧ he remembers EVERYTHING about you, no matter whether good or bad. just like how he’ll poke fun at you whenever you trip over your own feet and claims you need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap. BUT he does remember things like what you usually order at different restaurants, what your favorite kind of drink is and exactly how you like it

୨୧ doing fashion shows for him after you get mail or come back from the mall!!!!! as soon as you’d walk through the door with your new clothes, he’s SAT. and ready for you to try on your new wardrobe, he thinks you look great in everything and is a VERY good hype-man

୨୧ since he’s off social media & doesn’t have his own, he makes it a point to follow you from the band account and also likes every single new post you make, sometimes will even leave silly little comments in relation to whatever you just posted….he’s REALLY down bad for you

-> because of the new found fame for the band and since he deleted his social media accounts, he 100% has a private instagram where he only follows you, the band & crew and some of his other close friends. he posts SO many photos of you and puts some on his story almost everyday, you also had to help him learn how to take good instagram photos. (he’s so proud whenever you actually post one of the photos he took)

୨୧ while him & the band create new music for their new albums, he absolutely loves it when you just sit in there with him. you don’t have to do a single thing but just sit there, he does like to hear your opinion on what you think about the new songs and if anything needs to be changed. sometimes you’re even part of the album, he mixes in your laughs and sometimes even your moans into the songs

୨୧ when he gets invited to/buys tickets concerts, you’re always the very first person that he asks if you wanna come with him (especially if he knows that a band or artist you both like is playing), and obviously you do?!?!

-> whenever you both are around big crowds, he’s got his hand on your back or holding your hand, guiding you through the big groups of people

୨୧ he loves to go on small little vacations/getaways in the little bit of time that he has off from touring and making music!!!!! especially because of how much time the both of you would be spending together, making memories and exploring somewhere new :)

୨୧ even though you’re more than welcome to steal any of his hoodies, he always saves you a hoodie/shirt from the online drops. and when you visit them on tour, you just HAVE to get a shirt from each tour (more than half of your entire closet is probably bad omens merch at this point)

-> and of course he loves when you style bad omens merch to match what you wear everyday, he also eventually lets you become one of the models for online merch drops (with some photos of you together which makes the fans go CRAZY)

୨୧ for arguments, i don’t think that you both would have very often. since the both of you have learned that if you sit down and have a genuine conversation about what things/topics that could cause conflicts can avoid those heated arguments

୨୧ the days when he gets back from tour, usually you both just order something or sometimes make a meal to eat with him and he LOVES to just lay down, share a blanket and cuddle you after being gone for so long while watching an anime you both like ♡

[vhstown]

time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

[skiiyoomin]

could you write a kineshi hairo x male reader boyfriend headcanons??

ღKineshi Hairo with a boyfriend

ʚCont: male! reader, swearing, fluff, not proofread

⤑Back to navigation

Up until he met you, he had never really thought about his sexuality or what his preferences were. In fact, he never really considered relationships at all since his focus was on entirely different things.

You were a new transfer to the school and Hairo, as friendly as ever, introduced himself and offered a quick tour around the school. You hit it off almost immediately. Your personalities balanced each other out really well and Hairo was pleased to know you had similar interests. Ever since that day, things just kind of went naturally. There wasn´t any awkward tension that most people would have in the earlier stages of a friendship. Instead, it felt like you had known each other your whole lives.

It was during this time that Hairo began to develop feelings for you, though he wasn´t aware it was romantic attraction. He always assumed the fluttering in his belly and the tightening in his chest was caused by his affection for you as a friend. It wasn´t until you had hugged him tightly one day that he began to question if that was the case.

You had had a pretty shitty day for the most part, and Hairo naturally noticed your sour mood. He had offered a shoulder to cry on and vent about your feelings or anything that came to mind. But he was taken aback when your arms slithered around his torso, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck. You´re so warm, is the first thought that crossed his mind. In that closeness, the scent of your cologne filled his nostrils, making him lightheaded in the best way possible. His heart was banging against his ribs, and if you noticed, you didn´t point it out.

Things went back to normal after that. You didn´t hug him again and he didn´t have the courage to tell you to repeat the action. He´s normally someone who faces his problems head on. But he was conflicted. Did he fall for you? Did you like him back? There was a constant turmoil in his mind that he could never push away, no matter what he did to distract himself. He had to talk to you, he concluded.

It took him a while to bring up the topic. He found out, that it was a lot harder than he imagined. At last though, he managed to bring it up, hoping you wouldn´t catch on to his nervousness. However, the conversation helped him ground himself back to earth and possibly make a move on you.

Hairo tried to be subtle, to make small moves on you that weren´t too obvious. But, at the end of the day, he´s a boisterous guy, and being straightforward was his suit. The more he waited the more agitated he grew, he couldn´t stand waiting around much longer. Which is why, ona Friday afternoon after classes, he held you back, bringing you over to your usual spot under the cherry blossom tree. With a shaky hand, he held out your favorite flower. "Y/n I like you" He didn´t beat around the bush. Subconsciously, he held his breath, wating for rejection.

Instead, he hears your soft laugh, the smile he loves so much plastered on your lips. "I like you too Hairo"

Your relationship from then on went smoothly. Hairo was proud to be your boyfriend and he showed you off as often as possible. PDA? Sign him up for that. He had zero shame in being affectionate with you, whether it´d be by pressing kisses to your face or hugging you. He´s very vocal about his affections too. He loves loves lovesss complimenting you and hyping you up. Anything just to see that cute blush of pink on your cheeks.

He´s always sure to call out any homophobia when he´s around, especially if it´s comments directed towards your relationship. He is not scared to voice his opinions or fight back. He´s very protective of you and doesn´t want to see you hurt over homophobes.

He´s a golden retriever!! You have him wrapped around your finger and trust when I say he will do anything for you. He´s always like a puppy chasing behind his owner, looking up at them with puppy eyes waiting for their approval. He´s a lovesick puppy and isn´t ashamed to admit it! Your word is the law, whatever you say he agrees. So arguments are not common. If his boyfriend tells him to shut up, he will do just that.

All in all, he´s a very loving boyfie and deserves all the hype in the world <3

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

I have to ask about my top 5 favorite boys Dunsparce! I know all it's Pokédex entries talk about it burrowing underground BUT!!! What if like. You raise it from an egg or catch it so it's used to humans instead of just a wild one and give it a backyard to like. Use it like a bigger Pokémon version ant farm situation and try to keep it outside or not to drill in the house/make sure to make it feel safe so it doesn't on instinct? That's GOTTA be a at least a B-tier then, right??? (I may be coping a little but sue me, I think Dunsparce is a silly guy that is severely underated, at least before S/V came out.)

(Hey! It’s the pokémon in the blog’s pfp at last!) While I unfortunately can’t give dunsparce the glowing B-tier rating you were hoping for, but I also can’t say that a dedicated owner would be entirely unable to care for one. It won’t be easy (or cheap), but certainly not impossible. Let’s get into it, this is a long one.

To begin with, dunsparce are pretty big. At nearly five feet long, these surprisingly quick pokémon need a lot of space to move around. Thankfully, they aren’t too heavy, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble carrying them around with a big bear-hug. Now, as you pointed out in your post, dunsparce do require some specialized space to be happy and healthy, which will likely present some problems for a lot of potential owners.

Wild dunsparce make their homes underground in (I like the way you put it) giant, maze like ant-farm structures (Crystal, Ruby/Sapphire, Diamond/Pearl/Platinum). They have been known to share these burrows with other ground-dwelling pokémon like digletts (Ultra Sun), so if you are already the proud owner of a burrowing pokémon you may already have what you need for a dunsparce. Given their size, dunsparce need a lot of dirt to dig around in, which could be a problem when it comes to the size of your home and/or yard. Thankfully, while these pokémon are skilled digger with their drill-like tail, they aren’t exactly avid explorers: once a dunsparce has a nest they are happy with, they’ll spend most of their time inside it, remaining “virtually motionless” (Crystal). So, while you probably won’t have problems with your dunsparce running away from home, you will need to make sure they have adequate space. The larger your yard, the more likely the space will be adequate for a dunsparce. Because of their size, a simple sand/soil box won’t cut it (this is where the potentially expensive part of owning a dunsparce comes in).

Because they spend most of their time underground, it is important to have proper expectations about socializing with your dunsparce: these pokémon aren’t really the cuddly, indoors type. In fact, wild dusparce are known to be very skittish, especially around humans. According to the pokédex, dusnaprce tend to run away as soon as they’re aware that a human has spotted them, burrowing into the ground as fast as they can (Gold, Ultra Moon). In your request, though, you brought up an interesting question: would a dunsparce raised from birth be more comfortable with humans? As with most animals, I would have to guess that the answer would be yes (this isn’t really something I’ve explored on this blog before, so it’s an interesting avenue to go down!). Keep in mind, though, that these pokémon are pretty rare due to their fear of humans in the wild, so getting a dunsparce egg might be pretty expensive, and you’ll want to do your research to ensure that you’re buying from an ethical pokémon breeder.

Due to their aforementioned fear of humans, dunsparce are far more likely to choose flight over fight in most situations. This means that they aren’t exceptionally dangerous to humans. Their drill-like tail allows them to use powerful moves like Hyper Drill and Drill Run. While these moves could really do some damage to a person, they’re much more likely to cause damage to the environment around them when they try to flee. It would not be a good idea to bring a dunsparce inside unless it is some sort of indoor space where they can comfortably dig if they feel threatened. The only dangerous dunsparce is a dunsparce that feels cornered in a space where they can’t dig.

If you are able to provide a dunsparce with the large nesting space that they need, they are a pretty easy pokémon to care for. They’re laid-back but skittish, but get along well with other burrowing pokémon. While I can’t recommend them to all pet-owners, those with the right resources and dedication could find a great pet in this pokémon. Be careful though: if your dunsparce knows the move Hyper Drill, they are much more likely to evolve into the much larger, much more difficult-to-care-for dudunparce! I’d recommend the use of an everstone, just in case.

[gunnrblze]

Reunion

Silly little unserious fic about the guys finding you in No Man’s Land. Had to get this sit-com bs out of my head lol.

CW: slight suggestiveness, general talk of death ‘n stuff like that.

One probably wouldn’t assume that every day during a war would be the same, unpredictability and all. But that wasn’t quite your experience, considering you did the same thing every day. Every, single, day.

You wake up, curse men for being so stupid, for starting wars and killing one another for material things…scrounge for food and water, mourn your losses around noon, work on securing a shelter again for the impending nightfall, and tend to your more physical wounds, lest you get infected and all your hard work goes down the drain.

No Man’s Land was shitty, but you’d stumbled right into the cesspool itself, somehow. Your family passing away from whatever the fuck started falling out of the sky however many years ago was shitty too. Being left behind when you should’ve died already wasn’t sunshine and rainbows either. But you couldn’t focus on that too much when every turn you made could, literally, get you killed.

Armed fuckers everywhere, you were thankful you played too much hide and seek as a kid, cause you’d surely be dead if you didn’t somehow blend in with your bland surroundings. Unable to understand what anyone was even saying -doomed with trying to be quirky in Highschool and taking French instead of Spanish like everyone else wasn’t paying off, apparently-all you could understand from these dictator puppets was sí, nada, and rojo? You weren’t too keen on trying to understand why you kept hearing about stuff being red, maybe ignorance was bliss after all.

You’re not entirely sure though, it’s hard to pick up on spoken words when the blood rushing in your ears is the only sound you can hear, second to the gunshots and explosions booming everywhere. What were you even doing at this point? Surviving just so they didn’t give you a merciless ending? Was it worth it to live like this? You didn’t know that either, but you’d be damned if you simply gave up just because the going got tough. What is it that America’s so proud of? Freedom and bravery and what not?

Navigating abandoned and destroyed land for mere survival wasn’t on your lifelong bucket list, but here you were, sweating half to death behind a chunk of some random rubble in a desolated office building.

Shoveling the scraps of food you managed to find down your sore throat, eyes that had permanently grown in the back of your head always scanning for any lone beret who could knock your head off with a single bullet.

It wasn’t peachy or anything, but the sound of a whining dog made you forget all about it.

Shoving yourself as far behind the rubble as humanly possible, backpack squishing against the wall, you prayed -or talked, something like that, whatever- to whoever may be listening, that whatever Fed dog was sniffling around wouldn’t pick up your scent.

Unfortunately, your luck seemed to dwindle these days, as a massive German shepherd decided to knock over a nearby half broken-in door.

You took that time to suck down a breath, before figuring an escape route. You had no idea where your nationalist friends loomed, so like always, you hoped that crawling from post to post would keep you hidden for long enough.

As quietly as you could on broken chunks of tile, you crawled out from behind said chunk of rubble, to an adjacent one a few feet away. The sound of footsteps and distant voices ripped through any ounce of self confidence you’d gained, and you went back to the blinding fear for a moment. White hot and, confusing? Why weren’t they speaking Spanish?

“Shouldn’t be anybody round, place is trashed, boys” a deep, older sounding voice echoed. No, no, you don’t like the sound of that at all. You hoped maybe whoever this guy was talking to would agree, but alas, it seemed there was always a voice of bigger reason.

“I dunno, dad…Riley’s picking something up I think” his friend, or son apparently, shot back.

Riley? The furry battering ram? Maybe that was good…? These guys didn’t seem to be of Federation influence, perhaps they’d hear you out at least before splattering the insides of your skull onto the grimy tile.

The little pitter patter of dog paws got closer in range, and it made all the random joint aches and pains in your body more pronounced, bones vibrating with fear once you realized you couldn’t get out of this building. The knife you pulled from your bag only shook pathetically in your hand, more of a damn fidget toy than anything you could defend yourself with at this point.

Shoved back into a near corner, you already clocked the two voices, and there had to be more ‘boys’ with them, unless of course the older voice was including their door toppling canine in that group address.

“What is it, Riley? Go get it” the second guy spoke again, his distant words sending an even bigger pang of fear through your chest. Go get it. Go get you.

Apparently, Riley’s a good boy, because moments later the dog was sneaking right in front of your makeshift hideout. Barking ensued and it made you flinch on instinct, eyes wide as you heard all sorts of footsteps jogging your way. You could only sit there, backing yourself further into the corner, crouched behind the rubble as you stared into the canines beady eyes.

No Federation symbol on his little vest, though. Not that you could really process that, before a large man with a stupid little green beanie on came into view. The rifle in his grip didn’t phase you much anymore, only the fact that he was pointing it in your vicinity and that he donned a certain look on his face did.

You didn’t have much access to mirrors these days, but you knew being stuck in this desecrated, excuse for a city left you looking rather…gross. But this wasn’t that kind of look, of course.

“What the hell?” Beanie said a little louder than you preferred. “Who are you?” He followed up with, lowering his little killing machine when he seemed to deny your presence as an immediate threat.

If that broad ass statement wasn’t enough, the near geriatric sounding man you heard first ran up right next to him, followed by a blonder man that looked a little bit younger than Beanie himself.

You didn’t respond, naturally, what the fuck do you say to three armed men and their yapping German shepherd? They stared at you like a science experiment, before dad, you presume, spoke directly.

“What are you doing here? Where’d ya come from, kid?” His voice was sharper and more harsh than you typically enjoyed, but they didn’t seem to want to turn you to dust just yet.

It appeared they clocked the way your eyes flitted from corner to corner, wall to wall and door to door, your body screaming at you to run, but paralyzed with fear, and the harsh reality that you couldn’t escape these three.

“Relax, we won’t hurt you” Beanie so kindly assisted, seeming to understand your predicament a bit more. You didn’t trust your sore throat to speak, so you gulped instead, shaking like a leaf with that hunting knife in your grip while you picked up on more voices through their radio chatter.

They weren’t Federation, thank god, but that was almost just as scary. Because you didn’t know who they were yet, and they seemed to be quite interested in figuring you out. Dressed to the nines in tactical gear, obviously soldiers with the massive guns and all. American, with the west coast lilt that didn’t actually quell your fear, just create another problem for you to solve with the little resources you had.

You didn’t like the tone of the Geriatrics voice too much, he was understandably suspicious of you as he told you to put the knife down. Your body moved on its own accord, sheathing it in your backpack as you fully came to the realization that these people decided what happened now. Beanie asked more cursory questions, arms crossed like the brutes they seemed to be, and you feebly explained you were lost.

Lost. An idiotic answer. Stranded in No Man’s Land, you were obviously out of your element, due to the simple fact you were still alive and kicking it, disheveled as you were.

You weren’t keen on giving them your name, and Blondie seemed to understand that before you went silent at the question, nudging Beanie and sending some kind of telepathic message to him.

“Dad, they’re obviously not supposed to be here, we’ll just take them back to base, get them outta here at least?” Beanie said, his own uncertainty making the empty pit in your stomach blossom. Dad seemed to agree, but gave you a side eye that your own mother couldn’t even dole out that well.

You relented more quickly than any of you thought you would, including yourself. You knew it was game over the moment Riley The Dog spotted you. They seemed to hash out a plan rather immediately, and the idea of being helped, even by strangers, did seem a bit deserving on your end.

Your creaky knees burned as you stood up, tentative and unsure about this arrangement, despite your desperate need for assistance. You weren’t deciding to go back to this ‘base’ with them, you were being led back to this base with them. Beanie explained that they’re Army, and it still didn’t quite help. You shuffled along the split flooring of your abandoned little office shelter, checking every exit again, wondering about that escape shot one more time.

Blondie clocked you again though, apparently the silent and observant type, because he nudged his old man, who swiftly turned to you, his eyes expressing an unspoken knowledge. The knowledge that you were beyond outnumbered.

“We’ll get you back to our base, get you squared away from there” he said as if it were that simple, clearly trying not to bug out at the knowledge that someone survived all this. You wanted to explain there was no where to square you off to. That you were alone, but they seemed to already know that. They didn’t ask nearly enough questions, you thought. But then again, you didn’t have much to expand on.

The three of them moved like a unit. Water flowing through oil, smooth and sure, despite your awkward presence lingering shortly behind Geriatric, his offspring nearing either side of you. Caging you in. Riley The Dog seemed to skip ahead, content with scoping things out for them first.

Apparently, three -four- isn’t quite a party yet though, because two other sets of heavy footsteps sounded outside the building, the chatter on their radios picking up more. You hadn’t really listened to what Geriatric muttered into said radio when they’d first found you, too busy trying to tame your nervous system.

But apparently they valued a buddy system.

Two men, just as large and brutish, rounded the corner as soon as the four of you walked out of that broken down door, courtesy of the shepherd that trotted off to god knows where.

They seemed both surprised and unsurprised to see you. Expecting your tagging along back to base, from what you could tell, but still unprepared to witness a living civilian in No Man’s Land.

“What’s their name?” The bald one asked, a gruff in his voice that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. That’s how you knew your brain was scrambled, finding these square ass men attractive even in the slightest, when all they were offering was a little ‘help’ during arguably the worst time of your life, was a bit insane.

But you’d gone a little insane, so maybe it was understandable.

After Geriatric stepped off to the side with Baldy and the dude in the mask, whatever that get up was about, you only heard his more hushed voice. Discussing the pertinent problem you seemed to create just by existing.

The twin towers idled next to you, sharing silent looks as they combed over your appearance. Your hair ratty and clothes dirty, covering your battered up skin well enough, some stray cuts and scrapes that you weren’t able to take nearly good enough care of made you look straight out of a survivalist horror film. Donning a suspicious blood stain on the waistband of your cargo shorts, something everyone seemed to be thankfully ignoring.

Until now, at least.

“Are you hurt?” Beanie asked with some kind of concern, motioning to your blood stained pants that’d given you away long before you could even stand up and flaunt your crooked gait.

Your blank stare made everyone fall flat for a moment, all five men standing like robots, looks being shared and eyebrows being raised. Obviously you were fucking hurt, but not enough to mention it, in your opinion.

Your mere head shake didn’t extinguish Beanie and Blondies curiosity though, but their father seemed to want to get the show on the road, so long as you could actually walk down said road.

You trudged behind the five of them, making off putting eye contact with the masked one for a moment, his eyes lighting a path of unease down your spine, whether he meant to or not.

They cut off into the woods shortly after exiting the blown-to-bits plaza you’d wandered into. Beanie seemed to be concerned with your health, asking another time if you were sure you could walk. You’d be annoyed if it weren’t for the obvious hobbling and coughing you were doing with every step.

You insisted though, what was the alternative? One of the avengers would just haul you over their shoulder until you arrived on the scene where this ‘Kick’ fucker was apparently waiting for you all?

Yes, apparently so.

“Hesh, help them, son” the Geriatric called out without even turning around. First you noticed the name that was finally given up. Hesh didn’t sound any less silly than Beanie in your head, but you were forced to digress when said man stopped and turned to you, pointing to his back.

Apparently the grimace on your face was noticeable, a smirk cracking on his lips as he slung his backpack off, handing it to Blondie whose arm was already outstretched, standing to the other side of you.

“Familiar with the piggy back ride? We’ll be walking for a while, and you’ve clearly got something wrong under that bloodstain” he added as he motioned to your stained waistband, as if his knowing look wasn’t enough.

You felt silly, felt even sillier when your knee jerk reaction was the most petulant eye roll you’d ever given. But you found yourself digressing again. The large cut on your hipbone hurt too much to keep going like this. So you stepped closer as he squatted down, and climbed on his back like a monkey.

It wasn’t really funny, nothing about the situation was, but the absurdity made you roll your eyes again, earning a smirk from Blondie who picked right back up with the trek. In any other circumstance, you’d probably feel a stir down south with the way this man held onto you. Hands cupped under the backs of your knees to hold you up, was as innocent as innocent could be.

But again, you’d gone a little off your rocker the last several months, so being chest to back with a hot sweaty soldier who carried you like you were a sack of flour almost did something to you.

The three musketeers up ahead seemed to be chatting more, Baldy with a near permanent scowl on his face as the six of you moved through this too warm thatch of forestry. The masked one was quiet as he spoke to their Ringmaster, but not as quiet as Blondie was, who hadn’t even so much as muttered anything yet.

You willfully ignored all the aches and pains in your body up until now. The reprieve of being carried piggy back took pressure off your brittled bones and squeaky ass joints. Hesh didn’t seem to sweat having your weight on his back until the terrain got a bit more hilly.

Your insistence that you could walk again on your own was shut up very quickly by a shush from grumpy dwarf up ahead, everyone stopping at once. You peeked above Hesh’s head some more, only to see a group of berets in the distance. That not so funny feeling returning to your stomach, gut wrenching and definitely ruining the more pleasant one that’d somehow bloomed.

Your head shot down on instinct, wrapping yourself more around the green giant you were hanging off of, who seemed to have the same idea, securing your legs further around his waist as he crouched down.

Everything was a bit of a blur from then on, yelling and guns going off, your last view being the sunlight shining through the tree tops before you and Hesh fell over as a unit.

Not even cognizant enough to feel the intense ache on the back of your head, fortunately. Just a hand around your scraggly wrist and another somewhere near your waist.

And that goddamned dog barking.

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 26

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

”You can do what now?” Xaden nearly yells after getting over his shock.

I can mind speak. I say confidently in his head, causing him to jump back a bit, earning chuckles from Liam and Garrick.

I had spent the afternoon practicing on them. Jumping between their minds with ease, as if already second nature to me. All I had to do was focus on them and it seemed my mind connected with theirs. Only proven by how easily I had reached out and done the same to Xaden. I was also quite proud of the name I had given the ability. Direct and explained it perfectly.

”Does Carr know?” He demands as he starts to pace.

I shake my head. “No, this happened after I left. He only seemed intent on seeing if my signet blocked out other mental signets. And I can now safely say Dain’s signet did not work on me at all. And that was without me trying to put a shield up. But that doesn’t mean its not something he knows about. Seems there are tomes that have spoken of my ability somewhere.”

Xaden looks as if he breathes a sigh of relief. I would have said it was in regards to my mind being safe from Dain, but I can feel something else fuelling his relief. But what that was, I wasn’t sure. With how much he had going on I had no doubt there was others higher up with signets I was now safe from.

”I assume you tried to put a shield up?” Bodhi asks from where he is perched up against some stacked fighting mats.

I smirk and nod. “I did, sent Aetos jumping back from me as if I had electrocuted him. Was quite satisfying actually.”

”Well that is something at least. Now we just have to be careful of ourselves around Dain. Sadly our shields will not work against his like yours has.” Xaden states as he stops his pacing and stands next to Bodhi.

”I take it you’ve tried?” I ask him.

Xaden nods. “Not myself, but we have tested the theory with other cadets with stronger shields. He gets right through them like a knife through butter. So the fact he could barely make a dent in yours without even trying just goes to show how strong yours are.”

”You said Carr mentioned tomes about your signet. He let slip what they were at all?” Garrick asks from where he sits next to me, arm draped over my shoulders as I sit tucked into his sides.

I shake my head. “Sadly no. But least we know there are some. As well as fairy tales and stories of it. It’s a starting point.”

The others nod in agreement. The slip of that information, intentional or not was at least a starting point. One that had me thinking of where to start. And I knew exactly where to start. And none of these guys would be overly keen on my suggestion. But I had a feeling we could trust her. With time and how closer her and Xaden we’re getting despite him saying other wise, she could be a great asset.

”And I might have a suggestion on where we can start.” The others all turning to look at me.

”Why do I feel like we aren’t going to like your suggestion sweetheart?” Garrick drawls from next to me.

I look up at him and smirk. “Because you wont. Not entirely anyway.”

”Spit it out then. Where do we have to look?” Imogen asks.

I turn and look at Xaden, his eyes widening as if already knowing my answer.

”Not where. Who. And who better than my brothers new partner in crime for life. Violet Sorrengail.”

Xaden had not been thrilled by suggestion, but had agreed she was our best bet once we could verify she wouldn’t go tell someone about my signet. Though as I had pointed out, there was a very high chance she knew about Dain’s and as far as I knew hadn’t told anyone about it, even with how distant they had become while she had been here. He promised once he was sure my signet was safe, he would approach her about it. But only him.

”Aetos did not want to let you two go did he?” Garrick muses as we walk up to the flight field.

Garrick and Xaden had come to grab Violet and I for some training. Not that I needed it, but I took the excuse to get out of classes for a little bit. Aetos had put Garrick and Xaden through the wringer to let us go. Mainly Violet who was yet to manifest a signet. Claiming she needed Carr’s class more than anyone. But as Xaden had countered she wasn’t going to manifest a signet suddenly in Carr’s class and had proven she had the strongest shield in our year. I did not miss how Dain’s eyes flickered to me at that comment. He knew mine were significantly stronger that Violets. But it wasn’t public knowledge. Violet had proven she had mastered the basics and Xaden had dragged her out before he could say no. He had tried to fight it with me saying signet needed training. But as I pointed out I had a classified signet and was not allowed to fully show it off in classes. And with that I had turned and walked out, a snickering Garrick not far behind me. Which now lead to us heading down to the flight field to catch up with Xaden and Violet who definitely had a head start with only having to go to the first year doors three levels down. Due to Garrick insisting I move my stuff, we had to go all the way up to the third floor.

”No he didn’t. He’s just worried we wont win squad games. He is hell bent on winning it.” I inform Garrick as we push through the doors into the rotunda.

”You guys will be fine. Between you and Liam you should have the combat challenges and that hands down. Sadly I can’t speak about the other aspects.” The way he speaks, I know he knows what is coming. Wing leaders and section leaders knew everything to do with squad games as they didn’t take part as they didn’t technically belong to a squad.

”Don’t get any privileges, from being your kind of girlfriend?” I tease as we approach the stairs.

Garrick smirks and goes to respond, but his face goes blank as he pulls us both to a stop, his arm going in front of my protectively. I follow his gaze and watch as Colonel Aetos, General Sorrengail and Pancheck approach us.

”We’re getting the grand welcome today it seems.” Muses Colonel Aetos as they stop in front of us. My guess is they had encountered Xaden and Violet on their way up. “And I finally get to meet Fen Riorson’s daughter. Well know you by your actual name now. It still amazes me you hid her for long General, none of us had a clue who she really was.”

Colonel Aetos’s eyes look behind Garrick and I, and I know instantly who stands behind us. That familiar, black unhinged presence at the edge of my mind. Garrick going stiff as he angles his head ever so slightly to see who stands behind us. The muscle in his jaw twitching, eyes darting between the group in front of us and the General behind.

”Trust me Colonel, was no easy feat keeping who she was a secret from you. Surprised you believed me so easily when I introduced her as my niece.” Melgren drawls from behind us.

”Helps when she barely looks like her father and brother. And if I recall, not much like the women Fen called his wife for a short period of time either.” A small smirk on the Colonel’s face.

”Must have taken after some distant relatives.” I say sternly.

He just chuckles. “Some very distant relatives it seems. Well don’t let us hold you up cadets.”

And with that they walk past us, but I don’t miss the feeling of their eyes on us as they walk away. Mainly Melgren and Aetos, who as I turn my head catch looking directly at me. Clearly I was also on someone else’s radar, but for other reasons entirely. Part 27

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Apple Crumble NSFW Alphabets Day 22: Billy Loomis

For day 22 I decided to give the ghostface girlies another treat for this month. Plus since I've only done Poly ghostface so far technically this isn't overlapping and it's an entirely separate person (I've been running out of people to write NSFW alphabets for without too many characters getting two or three fics)

Notes: Minors DNI, NSFW, Smut.

A is for Aftercare (What they're like after sex):

Billy loves pillow talk, he could stay up for hours afterwards just talking to you about anything and everything going on in your lives. If you know about Ghostface he enjoys telling you about what him and Stu get up to when you aren't around.

He also likes to clean you both up too, not much lovey dovey shit though since he wants to focus on cleaning the mess and being able to relax with you.

B is for Body Part (Favorite on them and their partner):

His favorite body part on him (Besides his hair) are his arms. I've always taken him as the guy who works out at least a little. Plus with all the Ghostface stuff he's gotta have at least some muscle there. He's overall quite proud of his body.

On you he loves your thighs. No matter how thick or not they are he thinks their great. No matter if your sitting in your bedroom or next to him in the cafeteria he's always got a hand on them making sure everyone else knows who you belong too.

C is for Cum (Anything to do with cum):

Billy's not trying to risk anything at all even if you can't get pregnant so he always pulls out. He likes to cum on your chest but your face is also a close second for him.

D is for Dirty Secret:

Before you and Billy got super close to where the two of you began a relationship, you were probably close to the top of the Ghostface list. He'd never tell you but he thought at first you were just like everyone else at school so he had no qualms with going after you until he realized you weren't and found himself becoming attracted to you.

E is for Experience (How experienced are they?):

Billy is Billy. He's got loads of experience in both one night stands after parties and actual relationships. That doesn't make him the best boyfriend in the entire world, but he's not entirely stupid on how to make the relationship work.

F is for Favorite Position:

Billy surprisingly is a simple guy. He likes missionary cause he loves looking into your eyes and watching what he does to you as he whispers gentle praises in your ear.

G is for Goofy (How serious are they?):

He can laugh a little and get cocky during sex. He's not the most serious person ever by a long shot but he also is gonna stick to his goal of making you both cum.

H is for Hair (How well groomed are they?):

The king at taking care of himself. He keeps himself well groomed pretty much everywhere. I mean he does have an image at school to upkeep.

I is for Intimacy (How are they during the act, romantic etc):

Billy has romance down to a science. He isn't afraid to break out all the bells and whistles to really knock you off your feet. Like I said he's good at this shit both putting on a facade and actually meaning it.

J is for Jackoff (Do they masturbate and how often?):

He does it pretty regularly whether he's with you or not. It's something to pass the time when he's board waiting for Stu for Ghostface shit and he just actually enjoys doing it so why not.

K is for Kink (Their kinks):

Bondage, Billy loves to tie you up and leave you desperate for him. Bonus points if you cry and beg him to fuck you while he's doing it.

I could also see him having a slight daddy kink, or maybe at least calling him sir or something. He loves having that sort of power over you. He's also got a major corruption kink that I think is pretty self explanatory.

L is for Location (Favorite places to have sex):

He like it best on a bed or a couch. He also really enjoys the times neither of you can wait till you get to either of your houses so he pulls over to the side of the road and you do it in the back of his car.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on?):

He loves when you surprise him with skimpy outfits. He also really enjoys when you wear these outfits to school or out and about with him so he can stare at you and get a list together of everything he's going to do to you later.

N is for No (Something they won't do):

He's not gonna share you (Maybe with Stu since I am a fan of Poly Ghostface), You're his and he's not willing to let anyone else touch you.

He also won't ever like physically strike you, He just isn't into shit like that and doesn't think it actually has any purpose besides hurting you.

O is for Oral (Oral Preferences):

Really big on both giving and receiving. Is maybe just a tad more into receiving since he thinks your amazing at it, but he's not afraid to have you for a meal here and there.

P is for Pace (How fast or slow? Are they rough?):

Billy loves to be a bit rough around the edges but he likes to take things slow. He's really into savoring the moments the with you and making it a nice experience for the both of you.

Q is for Quickie ( Do they like quickies?):

Billy likes quickies, if you can't make it to a bed or anywhere to do the whole shebang he'll go for a quickie in maybe the back of his car or a random janitors closest.

R is for Risk (Are they down to experiment?):

He has his particular things he's just not into and not going to try but he is down to experiment with some things. I could see it also being something you have to bring up for him to even give it a second thought. He just knows what he's into and is satisfied with it.

S if for Stamina (How long can they go for?):

He can go for a while, maybe a good few hours. He does like to give you breaks though as he knows he can get rougher especially when he starts to get tired towards the end.

T is for Toys (Do they use toys and do they like them?):

I could see him having a few things himself to use when he jerks off and stuff, but most of the hardcore toys he saves for you if your into it. He will also be really into buying you toys to try out that caught his eye.

U if for Unfair (Do they like to tease?):

He teases a good bit cause he likes to rile you up, but he's never gonna be to terribly mean about it. It's more so just playful teasing to get you worked up.

V is for Volume (How loud can they get?):

Billy audibly moans a lot but he's not the loudest with it. He likes when your loud so anyone who's around knows who makes you feel that good but he himself doesn't get that loud.

W is for Wild Card (Random things):

Out of all the outfits, he likes pink frilly things the best. There's something so innocent about it to him that he likes to corrupt. That if you really wanna get him worked up show up in some pink frilly shit.

X is for X-Ray (What are they packing):

A good six inches. He's about medium in girth too and the shaft itself is pretty straight. Perfect for hitting all the good spots.

Y is for Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

It fluctuates, it can be high if your working him up, but he usually isn't ready to go at the drop of a hat.

Z is for ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep?):

Like in aftercare he likes to talk to you afterwards so he's not gonna fall asleep for awhile. You'll most likely be the one to fall asleep first and shortly after you since he'll have no one to talk to he will fall asleep himself.

[minxiiwrites]

Gekko Crushing on you headcannons!!

Gekko drabbles! Cause I don't see him a lot in this place :(((

He's a golden retriever typa guy

Everytime he sees you his eyes just lights up and he starts rushing towards you asking if you need help in anything or how are you in general

Definitely has an acts of service love language

He's so obvious that he's tripping head first for you to the point that when you guys are seen together, there's a chorus of "ooo~" and knowing smirks towards him

Number one cheer leader!! He will hype you up no matter what kind of thing you're doing he always has your back

Contrary to popular belief, he would love it whenever you play with his lil friends

Just seeing you being happy and cooing and wingman and dizzy for their cuteness makes him smile so wide

If you're busy with anything, he wouldn't wanna disturb you (though the urge to take your attention for himself is tempting)

He stares at you from a far with a hand on his cheek and a love struck gaze focusing on you

Like he would sigh and there's hearts surrounding him typa gaze

And it's so obvious that he's staring cause he's usually the noisy chatterbox

Yet suddenly when you walk him he's now putting his entire focus all on admiring you, completely disregarding the conversation he had whether important or not

Simp? Simp.

Often gets teased by Phoenix and Jett but he just laughs it off cause he finds no point in denying his affections for you

Reyna is just smirking every time she sees you guys together in any way (proud mama)

Sometimes when he's in a daze he just whispers Spanish about how pretty you are, how his heart it beating so fast or just how much he just wants to be yours

And every time you ask him about what he said he just bursts and nervously coughs it out while averting his eyes way from you

Wingman really likes to nudge on your leg to get your attention

Just like his owner, wingman loves to be held in your arms for no apparent reason

You could be strategizing for an enemy attack and suddenly feel a squishy hand gently push on your leg and lil wingman is motioning for you to carry him like a baby

Gekko often apologizes for his clingy behavior as if he doesn't ask just as clingy but I digress

Will text you at 3am for no reason (he misses you)

Gets super shy whenever you compliment him as he rubs his neck and shyly looks away from you with a nervous grin

One time in his room you gave him a pat on the head as a congratulation for succeeding in a mission and he just froze

After you left he's now bouncing on the walls and screaming about how he's won with his lil friends celebrating along with him

He's gotten a noise complaint from Yoru but honestly he could care less

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH BARKABRKABRKABRKABDKABEJABRKABEKABRKABAEKSBKEBSNDBANEBDNSNDNDBDBDBDJDDHJSJSABJSBAJEBAJEBANBENABEJSBEJSNSBEKABEGGERRGRGGRRGGRRBAKRGGRRRRGRRBAKEGGERRRRRRAHHHHHHRAHTAHHHHHBARJJJJJEVANBRKKKRVAJRRBBAKBARKKRGRRRR

[quintessencewrites]

Desire

Shuri x stripper! reader

"Ladies and Gents, we got a treat for yall tonight! So much cake, it'll make you want to lick the icing first."

"Please help me in welcoming Desire to the stage!"

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, nudity, fluff, explicit language, stripping, illicit drug use, lap dances, etc.

Word Count: 3.2k+

Tags: @lunax0654 @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @zestgodtj @themageking @becauseimswagman1 @k3nn3dyxo @dayjlovesromance @778ij @rxcently @widowmakker

Special Thanks to @letitias-fav for choosing y’all’s stripper name and effectively choosing the title as well 🫶🏾 thanks babes🤍🤍🤍

A/N: This was supposed to be a short and sweet little one-shot, but I got carried away and it ended up over 3,000 words long. You guys are gonna love this one, I just know it. I'm in love with it myself; I'm so freaking proud of the work I did on this story <3

A/N 2: NOT a part of my ShuRiri x Sade series. That returns this Thursday, 1/5/23 <3

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The clock on the wall is torturing me, its hands moving so slowly, I’m sure they aren’t even moving at all. I’m counting down; only 30 minutes left until I can clock out.

“Y’know, staring at that thang won’t make time go no faster, chile.” My eyes almost peek at the back of my eyelids, but I suppress the eye roll. Mr. Ellis doesn’t deserve that; he isn’t the target of my frustrations. “Here, now. Table 7’s food is up.”

“Table 7? I don’t have table 7, Mr. Ellis. Where’s Christine?”

My eyes peel away from the clock when my question is met with silence. The older gentleman points his head in the direction of the office that sits tucked away in the back of the kitchen. “She’s not feeling good again. Poor thing, pregnancy is taking a toll on her.”

My heart aches for the girl, 8 months pregnant and planning to work til the end. She’s exhausted, often sleeping in the cramped room for her entire shift. I reach for the aromatic trays, more than willing to cover for the waddling woman.

“She shouldn’t have to work.”

“You gon’ pay her bills, y/n?” the old man retorts. “If it was left up to me, you wouldn’t be working either. This job, or that other one.” The end of his sentence slithers off his tongue in disgust.

The sigh that releases from me is impatient. I didn’t feel like having this conversation with him again. The father-like figure made it clear how much he despised the work I do, often telling me “You gonna slide down that pole right on down to hell.”

“College don’t pay for itself, Mr. Ellis.” A deep ‘mm’ is all I get in return before I’m shooed into the dining room to deliver meals.

“Table 7… table 7,” I mumble, leaving the familiarity of my section of the restaurant to enter the unfamiliarity of Christine’s.

Table 7 sits in the center of the room, and it is surrounded by gorgeous women. They cause me to stumble over my feet a bit, but thankfully, the food doesn’t go down. At the heart of the group, is a girl whose eyes refuse to look away as I walk toward them. It causes my cheeks to go red and my gaze to fall.

“Hey everyone. Christine is taking a quick break, so I’ll be your server. My name is y/n.”

“Y/n? I’ve never heard that name before. It’s lovely.” the one whose intent look I couldn’t escape spoke. Her accent was thick and heavy, yet her voice was light and pulled me in.

The blush in my cheeks has for sure crept to the tips of my ears now. “Tha-thank you. Alright now, y’all gonna have to help me out some. I didn’t take y’all’s orders, so I don’t know who has what.”

The dark-skinned beauty to my left opened her mouth first. “I had the grilled salmon.” With a swift nod, I slid the hot plate in front of her. “The vegetarian meal belongs to me,” expressed the one on my right.

“That must leave you with the pork tacos?” I question, placing the plate in front of the girl with the dense vernacular. She nods with the corner of her lip between her rows of teeth. “Though, I’m suddenly feeling like cake,” she whispers when I reach across her to deliver her food, eyes clearly no longer on my face.

The boldness in her words separates my lips and almost buck my knees from under me. “Um, I-ha,” a nervous giggle escapes me and I take a small step back. A quick ‘ahem’ clears the shock from my throat. “If you ladies need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask,” I ramble off before beelining back to the kitchen.

“Girl, don’t you bust through them doors like that. Scaring my old soul”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Ellis.”

Christine is standing next to the aged man, silently munching on saltines. “I took Table 7 for you, Chris.”

“Table 7? Oh, the group of girls? Y/n, aren’t they gorgeous?” she’s practically sighing.

“Yeah, intimidatingly so,” I allow the eye roll to follow through this time and glance up at the clock. 7:50. Ten more minutes.

“You don’t get tired, y/n? Leaving one job to go straight to the next?”

My hands reach up, capturing my curls and piling them atop my head in a bun before I answer. “Yeah, Chris, I’m worn out as hell-”

“Watch that mouth in front of me, chile.”

I wince, knowing better. “Sorry, Mr. Ellis. I’m tired as heck. But if I sit around too long thinking about how tired I am, I won’t get anything done.”

“I feel you. Do you mind checking to make sure table 7 doesn’t need anything else before you go? I’ll give you whatever tips they leave,” Baby mama asks with a mouthful of dry crackers.

I really don’t want to, but I’m motivated by the money. “Sure,” I offer, retying my apron and pushing the swinging door open.

I barely make it across the restaurant before the stranger’s eyes meet mine. A grin stretches her face as I approach. “What can we do for you, y/n?” she drawls, eyes glimmering.

I return the smile, genuinely intrigued by what about me has caught her eye so. “I’m just checking on everyone before I clock out. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Her brows furrow. “You’re leaving? Wait, let us show our appreciation for your service before you go.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I vocalize once I notice all three women reaching into their wallets.

“Well, we’re going to,” the recipient of the vegetarian dinner states matter-of-factly. My mouth is closed, fingers playing with my rings nervously, not sure how to accept such open generosity. I wasn’t used to having to do so on this job. Here, people were supposed to leave their tips and be long gone by the time I went to retrieve them.

One by one, wads of cash are folded into my hand. The last girl’s hand lingers a bit longer. “Thank you,” she whispers to me. “You’re welcome,” my voice returns at the same volume.

“Have a good night, y/n. I hope to see you again.”

“Ye-yeah, yeah. You as well.” I trek back to Christine and Mr. Ellis and without counting the money first, I place half of the bills into her pocket before grabbing my belongings and rushing to the back door. I was going to be late. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow,” I call as the door shuts.

Thankfully, the car ride isn’t a long one. In ten minutes, I pull up to Missus, rushing in. “You’re late,” the DJ calls out to me from the sound booth. “No shit,” I yell back, running to the dressing rooms.

“You’re late,” Indigo echoes when I reach my locker.

“Why doesn’t anyone start a conversation with ‘hello’ anymore?”

“Bitch, because you are late. What took you so long? I had to convince mama to not take you off for tonight.”

I place a grateful kiss on my best friend’s cheek. “And I appreciate that. I’m only ten minutes late though.”

House mama peeks her head into the room. “Glad you could join us, y/n.”

My turn toward her is slow and I’m hoping my innocent smile can wipe away her pissed-off expression. “Hey, mama…”

“Don’t ‘hey, mama’ me. I warned you that you may be trying to juggle too much-”

I didn’t feel like hearing this lecture either. “I’m not mama, give me ten minutes. I’ll do a double-set to make up for it.”

With pursed lips and worried eyes, Mama walks away, leaving just me and Indigo. I reach into my locker and grab the first fabric my fingers brush across. I don’t have time to be picky, slightly dissatisfied with the black piece I’ve picked up. It’s a bit more revealing than what I usually chose to wear, despite the job title I held.

The one-piece had no straps, just a thick band covering my nipples but leaving my areolas for the people to see. The part that donned between my legs covered my second pair of lips well enough, though the thin string betwixt my cheeks left nothing to the imagination.

I reach down to my bag, searching for the clear stilettos I wore with almost every set, and became frantic when I couldn’t find them. “Ugh, Indi, can I borrow your black shoes?”

“The strappy ones?”

“I’d prefer the non-strappy ones.”

“Too bad. Those are currently on my feet. You’re getting the strappy ones. They’ll look delicious on you, with that outfit. I’ll help you lace them.”

The eye roll makes an encore but I don’t protest. I don’t have time to. Sitting on the furry pink bench, I allow Indigo to slide the shoes on and tie the strings up my thigh. I attempt to stand, but stumble at the unexpected height. Indi is much shorter than me and sports a whopping 10-inch shoe compared to my 6-inch ones.

“Damn, girl, I’m gonna break my neck.”

“Nope,” she pops the p in the word. “You’re gonna step on theirs. Get out there, shake that fat ass.”

I hear the DJ’s booming voice before I even declare myself ready. “Ladies and Gents, we got a treat for yall tonight. So much cake, it’ll make you want to lick the icing first.”

“Ew, what a disgusting way to put it.”

Indigo smacks her lips. “He’s not wrong,” she states, eyes not moving from your backside.

“Please, help me in welcoming Desire to the stage!”

A deafening remix of Birthday Cake by Rihanna roars through the speakers, and I have to practically run to the stage to make it to my cue.

It’s not even my birthday, but he wanna lick the icing off

One foot in front of the other, the strut of my walk and sway of my hips brings me to the pole center stage. The lights are blinding, I can barely see. I give the DJ a quick signal to turn them down a bit and when the strobes dim I can see the audience gaping at me.

With the pole behind me and both my hands on it while I face the crowd, my entire body is on display, just how they like it. My head dips, my curly mane falling over my face before I swing it back up.

It’s so exciting, don’t try to hide it, I’mma make you my bitch

My eyes catch hers on their way up. She’s here, sitting front row, ogling my almost naked body.

The girl from the restaurant. Her intense eyes are burning heat in my body, sending it upward to my face. Her confidence from earlier has been waived and a sweet shyness falls upon her. My routine doesn’t falter, it can’t falter, yet my mind is far away. When my thick thighs bring me closer to the end of the stage, I get a really good look at her.

Her jaw is so well-defined, it must have been chiseled from marble. The spirals hang from her head to cover her face ever so slightly, though the shaved sides keep her features open. Her eyes are so dark, they appear black instead of brown and right now, they’re set hard, focused on my figure.

She’s surrounded by the same women who accompanied her at the restaurant moments ago and they too can’t help but be entranced by me. My mind is telling me to take advantage of this opportunity, to get close, and I give in to the thoughts.

My legs sweep over the edge of the stage, and I climb down, not having to hop far due to the insane height of Indigo’s shoes. Her stare should be deemed rude, but I’m eating it up. I sway to her lap and make it my seat, straddling her thin waist. Throwing my head to the side, I allow my hair to mask my mouth, not wanting anyone to read our conversation.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I whisper, lips brushing her ear and the girl inhales deeply but doesn’t speak. “You know my real name. That’s a problem here. I think I ought to know yours.”

“Sh-Sh-Shuri,” she stutters out. Lifting to my feet, I walk back to the stage and finish my set in a split on the cold floor, giving Shuri an eyeful. Her orbs grow, almost bugging out of her head, and with a sly smile, I leave, returning to Indigo who’s still in the dressing room, now lighting a tightly wrapped blunt.

“I will never understand how your confidence shifts when you’re on stage versus when you’re not,” she says through the smoke.

“It’s a talent,” I shrug, taking the seat next to her. “Pass.”

She hands the joint over, and I take a deep drag, eyes shut with my mind still on Shuri. The odds that she was here right now were second to none. “What you thinking bout?” Indigo asks, reaching over to pluck the blunt from my fingers.

“There’s this girl out there. She was at the restaurant tonight too, flirting hard as hell, but here, I seem to have her speechless.”

Indi’s head lifts from the headrest momentarily. “Is she fine?”

“She looks like a greek god.”

My friend sucks her teeth in response. “You always get the good-looking ones. You wanna share?”

“Nah, one look at you and she won’t want me anymore,” I reply, eyes closing again.

“Shut up,” Indigo retorts. At the same moment, mama walks in. “Good set, Desire. You still owe me an extra one, but right now, you’ve got a private dance. Room 7.”

With a quick nod, I stand to my feet. I already have a feeling as to who it is and I’m unsurprised when I enter room 7 and see Shuri already seated on the couch at the back of the room. She stands when she notices my presence and it catches me off guard.

“Sit. You actually need to be sitting for this, at least in order for me to do my job correctly.”

My voice seems to have her hushed, but she sits as told. “I, um. You don’t have to dance for me. I just wanted your time. I’ll pay, of course, more than what you’re asking, but something about you all night has just been captivating.”

Captivating comes out breathy and I’m at a loss for words at hers. “You wanna pay me to spend time with you?

She’s nervous when her head bobs with her bottom lip pulled into her mouth, biting hard. “If that’s okay, of course,” she stumbles. “I-I don’t want to insult your work, the taste I got out there was pretty fantastic, but something is calling me to just get to know you.”

There’s a heat in my cheeks and a fury in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah, Shuri. We can talk.”

I sit next to the nervous girl and face her. She’s really cute when she’s fumbling around like this. And she’s fumbling over me. Shuri speaks first, “So you work as a stri-a dancer? And a waitress?”

“You don’t have to be afraid to say stripper. That’s what I am. Yeah, I work both. Waitress from 3 pm to 8 pm, stripping from 8:15 pm to 3 am. Class in between.”

Her eyebrows crinkle as her face frowns. “Class? So you’re a student?”

“Mhm. I go to NYU.”

“What is your major?” she rattles off.

“African-American Studies. Minoring in Dramatic Writing.”

Those eyebrows jump back to the top at her face, impressed, but they return to their scowl.

“How are you managing two jobs and being a full-time college student,” she asks, clearly concerned.

I allow myself to shrug. “I’m dedicated to it.”

“You definitely are.”

Shuri’s hand reaches across the couch, inching towards mine, but too nervous to grab hold.

I beat her to the action, placing her hand in my own and scooting closer. “Do I get to ask you questions now?”

A grimace passes over her face so quickly, I think I imagine it. “I suppose so.”

“Your accent tells me you’re not from New York. Somewhere in Africa, I’m guessing?” She nods a confirmation. “Where?”

“Wakanda,” she returns, and suddenly I put two and two together.

With a quick release of her hand, I jump to my feet, forgetting the death traps I was standing on. My ankle rolls underneath me and my body descends, but just as I’m expecting it to come in contact with the hard floor, I instead feel an arm wrap around my waist, steadying my fall.

When I look up at my rescuer, I’m utterly speechless. “You’re Princess Shuri,” I whisper-shout. Shuri’s eyes aren’t on mine, instead trained on something a bit lower that’s got her mouth opening and closing and tripping over her words.

Meeting her gaze, I notice my breasts exposed, the fabric of my leotard having shifted during my tumble. Hurriedly, I pull the black band back down, arms quick to cross my chest. “Shit, Your Majesty, I’m so, so sorry. This is so indecent,” I glance around, desperately searching for something to use as a cover-up.

Shuri picks up on my actions, unbuttoning and removing her blazer and placing it around my naked body. “No, no it is okay. Please, drop the ‘your majesty’. You called me Shuri before.”

“That was before I realized I was talking to royalty. I’m so sorry."

The Princess's eyes were desperate, begging me to return things to how they were before. I look around before sitting on the couch again.

“You sure just Shuri is okay? I don’t want to be rude…”

She drops to her knees in front of me and takes my feet in her hands, beginning to unlace the damned shoes from them.

“Just Shuri was okay before; it’s more than okay now.”

Her words sink in. “Okay, Shuri. Why are you in New York?”

A small smile returns to her pretty face. “Just some business with the Avengers.”

Wow, I really had the Princess of Wakanda, the Black Panther, a freaking Avenger, seated at my feet instead of me bowing at hers. Once she’s removed the footwear, Shuri takes my sore and bruised foot in her hand and begins to dig her digits into them. “I hope I am not being too forward. I hate seeing anyone in pain.”

“No worries,” is the last thing that leaves my mouth before she interrupts me again.

“Desire is a fitting name for you.”

“What? Why do you say that?” I’m interested in her words.

“You have this energy surrounding you. It’s been pulling me in all night. I barely even know you, yet I’m craving you. I desire you.”

“Oh,” I gasp, flattered beyond belief. My stomach is turning, my attraction for the royal at its peak.

“Well, I-I didn’t choose the name. Indigo chose it for me.”

“Indigo? Do you have a girlfriend?” Her hands drop, ready to friendzone herself before I even answer.

“No, God, no,” I laugh at the idea. “Indigo is another dancer here. She’s my best friend.”

She grins like a Cheshire cat. “Good.”

“Good?” I ask. “Why good?”

“Because I don’t want to have to compete with someone for your heart.”

“My heart?” her words are hypnotizing, pulling me in and holding me tight. “You want my heart?”

“No, y/n. I desire it.”

Masterlist

[artiststarme]

Interested or Not?

Based on a prompt from @nburkhardt. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

Also, if you have any angsty prompt ideas, please send them my way!

~*~*~*~

Steve knew he didn’t have any self-confidence anymore. He hadn’t really since his fall from grace as King Steve in his junior year of high school, really. He tried to change for the better, be a man that himself and Nancy could be proud of. But what did that do? It caused his entire friend group and the rest of the student body to shun him. He’d started high school as King Steve, destroyer of morals and jerk of a man. People liked him, he was popular, and he thought he was happy. As soon as he tried to be better though, everyone turned on him so quickly they couldn’t have ever liked him to begin with. He left high school as a broken boy that hadn’t ever been loved at all. 

Sometimes he wished he could go back and change things. He used to be someone he was proud of. He’d spend hours perfecting his hair and outfit to show off to the girls of the school (and the boys but that’s neither here nor there). His skin was flawless and his biggest insecurity was the too-faint outline of his abs. Now though, Steve was a mess. His hair was dull, his skin was scarred, and his confidence was gone. How could he have good self-esteem when he had a ligature mark branded onto his neck and chunks of tissue missing from his sides? 

There was always a voice in the back of his head whispering that the family he built for himself wouldn’t last, that they’d leave him just like everyone else had. His parents couldn’t get away from him fast enough, his old friends from high school dropped him as soon as he showed an ounce of emotional maturity, and Nancy broke his heart into a million little pieces before leaving too. So why should Steve believe anyone would ever stay?

Even with Robin singing his praises to anyone that would listen, the voice in Steve’s head was louder. It spoke of better options, whispers of abandonment, and deprecating thoughts about his appearance. Who would ever choose Steve when he looked like this?

Steve’s looks were all he had. That’s how he charmed people and drew people in. Now? Anyone in their right mind would stay as far away from him as possible. He didn’t have anything else to offer people either. He didn’t have any interests or intelligence or drive to go into anything. He wasn’t going to school or working at a great job. He was twenty years old working a dead end minimum-wage job at Family Video and babysitting kids that really didn’t need him, for free on the side. 

When Eddie started acting weird, Steve genuinely had no idea what was happening. The whispered words pointed to make Steve blush, the lingering touches, and the free weed all confused him. What the hell was Eddie doing and why was he doing it? If a girl had done that to him before everything happened, Steve would’ve upped the charm and started flirting back. But there was no way Eddie was flirting with him. Steve was probably just imagining it, hoping for it, because he knew no one would ever be interested in him again. 

But then Eddie got even more bold, less cautious with his words and much more direct. He’d tell Steve how pretty he looked in the lights of Family Videos, an absolute lie since the bright fluorescents made his skin look pale. Eddie would brush an imploring hand through his hair and comment on how soft it felt, another lie since the hairspray made it all oily and gross. He even told him that his singing voice was that of an angel, a definite lie because Robin always tells him he sounds like a dying walrus when he sings along to Queen. 

After several weeks and many brushed-off flirts later, Eddie reached his breaking point. He asked Steve not-so-straight out, “Steve, I like you and I think you like me. Would you like to go on a date with me this weekend?”

Steve just stared at him in response. What the actual fuck? “You like me?”

Eddie stared at him blankly before sputtering an indignant, “uh yes? How-how did you not know that? I’ve been flirting with you for months?!”

“That was flirting? What? Eddie-”

“Was it bad? I told you your ass looked great in your jeans like two days ago. How was that not flirting?” Eddie yelled.

“But why? Why are you flirting with me? Is it a joke?” Steve couldn’t wrap his head around this. Why would Eddie of all people be interested in him? There was no way someone as beautiful and full-of-life as Eddie would ever look at a guy like Steve twice. 

Eddie rested his hands on Steve’s shoulders and looked at him sadly. “No Stevie, it’s not a joke. How could I not like you? You’re smart, you’re kind, you listen to me talk for hours about nerdy subjects I know you don’t give a shit about. You’re good with the kids and you’d do anything to protect the people you love. You’re also fine as hell so there’s that. There’s no way I couldn’t be interested in you.”

Steve had tears in his eyes by the time Eddie was done speaking. Eddie truly liked him, something Steve didn’t think was possible anymore. But here he was, unswayed by Steve’s tears and low self-esteem and abandonment issues. He was willing to prove to Steve that he was important and that he wouldn’t leave him. He was willing to stay. 

With a small laugh, Steve nodded. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Glad to hear it, Big Boy because I might be in love with you.”

And with that, they kissed. Steve had a long way to go before his self-esteem was where it used to be but with Robin, Dustin, and Eddie in his corner, there was no doubt that he would get there eventually. 

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[229zmi]

UNO!

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

CONTENT: reader is Annoying, hinata makes a Ur Mom joke, reader calls tsukishima an egghead, dialogue-heavy, tsukishima and reader are rivals kinda

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

“Plus twenty? Twenty?” you bellow angrily. “You guys are conspiring against me, I just know it!”

Yachi offers what appears to be an apologetic look. “Sorry, [Y/N], you were about to win. What else were we supposed to do?”

“Let me win, obviously? The fuck is wrong with you.”

A tsk escapes you as you reach over the table and start pulling twenty cards from the deck in the middle in a particularly strained manner, like the action causes you immense physical and emotional pain. The group can only watch you with poorly concealed smiles behind their cards.

“It’s just a game, you weirdo,” Kageyama states as a matter of fact, as if he wasn’t prepared to flip over the table some rounds ago when the same thing happened to him. You pause in your movements just to sneer at him and his hypocrisy, your upper lip curling hideously.

However, before things start to turn violent, Yamaguchi, with some impressive prediction skills and reflexes, places a hand on your shoulder to stop you. Though you think the action wouldn’t have done much to stop you physically if you were seriously considering bopping Kageyama in the face, it’s the thought that counts anyway.

“[Y/N], just take the cards.”

“Yeah, [Y/N],” Hinata chimes in. You’re not sure why he bothered because what he said serves no actual purpose whatsoever besides further igniting your inner demons.

“Literally who asked you?”

“Your mother,” he responds intelligently. He even sticks his nose up like one of those high school bullies in the movies, all dignified and everything as if his baddie comeback is something to be proud of. It grates on your nerves more than anything.

“You can’t say that. My mommykins is, like, a super important government official.”

Hinata’s jaw slacks and his eyes widen to the size of very large ping pong balls, and like the gullible motherfucker he is — “Oh my god, really?!”

“Yeah, and she’ll have you, uhm, banished if I tell her you said that, doncha know.”

“Please don’t snitch on me, I won’t say it ever again. Promise!”

You smile passively. “Sure thing... for a price.”

“How m—“

“Put your fucking wallet away, you idiot,” Tsukishima interrupts, having already had enough of your bullshit since long ago. Hinata’s dumbassery was just the cherry on top. “[Y/N], you’re not funny.”

In response, you proceed to further prove his point by producing a noise that resembles that of a red buzzer from one of those Got Talent shows and then don’t say anything else. Unamused by your outwardly offensive action, he narrows his eyes at you, glaring at you as if your behaviour is something detrimental to his health — a disease that can be spread if he so much as accidentally brushes against your shoulder.

“…What was that?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” you accuse.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I don’t care. What do you know about funny anyway? Egghead,” you add, for emphasis. All Tsukishima does is continue to creepily stare at you, almost scandalised like you’ve just annihilated his entire bloodline.

“Oookay. Let’s just move on!” Yamaguchi splutters with a singular glob of spit flying in the air from how fast he’s speaking. It’s gross, though he does sound a bit anxious, and that makes you feel kind of bad so you ignore it for his sake.

With an overdramatic sigh, you slump against the back of your chair in defeat as you glare at the numerous colourful cards in your hands. “Fine.”

The round continues without any other objections.

You’re about to win. And this time, you’re certain what happened a few rounds ago won’t happen to you again; all of you had just spent your plus two’s and four’s on Kageyama anyway (who did in fact end up flipping the table, although it didn’t really accomplish anything as much as it made a mess all across your living room floor).

“Uno!” you declare, gleefully placing your second to last card down with a dazzling smile.

“I wouldn’t sound so happy this early if I were you,” Tsukishima remarks. You shoot him a glare.

“You will let me win,” you say manipulatively, wiggling your fingers in front of him for the effect of what you believe is hypnotisation.

Unfortunately, he does not fall for your sneaky tactics, and it’s clear by his dry and disappointing answer: “No.”

Yamaguchi places a wild card in the middle and then looks toward everyone for some form of validation. “What colour?”

“Red,” you answer as if the question is for you.

Kageyama narrows his eyes at you. “Are you reverse psychology-ing us right now?”

“Whaaat, no! I don’t even know what that means!”

“That’s because it’s not a real word,” Tsukishima states in a haughty tone.

“Reverse psychology?” you ask. “That’s two words.”

“No, I mean—“

“Tsukishima! Tell us what [Y/N]’s last card is,” Hinata says in a not-so-discreet stage whisper. It doesn’t help either that the two of them are on opposite sides of the table, so everyone in between hears it. Including you.

“Literally what the eff, man, that’s literally cheating,” you protest in a nasally voice, but you’re completely ignored as everyone else seems to be more focused on Hinata’s unethical proposal.

“Why would I do that?” Tsukishima drawls.

“You’re sitting the closest to [Y/N]. C’mon, just take a little, teeny-tiny, itty-bitty peek!”

“If [Y/N] wins, we’ll never hear the end of it,” Yamaguchi comments. It’s meant as an astute observation rather than fuel to add to the fire, but letting you win would mean giving you the dangerous privilege that is bragging rights.

Kageyama nods in agreement. “Do it for the betterment of society.”

“For all of us,” Hinata adds. They’re all being a bit dramatic, you think.

Yachi stays silent, for the fear of potentially provoking a certain someone again.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, his shoulders slumping with the weight of peer pressure. However, before you can process the situation or have time to defend the anonymity of your last card, you sense an arm snake around to rest upon the back of your chair. You whip your head to the side to see Tsukishima, who’s in closer proximity than you expected. Close enough that you can breathe in the scent of his cologne and note that it’s a little too strong to the point where it’s almost migraine-inducing.

Tsukishima only bothers to take a half-hearted glance at your card before fixating his gaze on you. His eyes, unblinking, noticeably skim your face without even trying to hide it, and you’re tempted to bark out an indignant “What?,” if only it wasn’t for the unusual expression he’s sporting. Unusual, as in his eyebrows aren’t furrowed together like they usually are whenever he’s in your vicinity, and his mouth is looser around the corners instead of downturned.

He appears as if he’s about to say something but then decides against it as he swiftly pushes himself away. Seeing how quick he was to get away from you, you wonder for a moment if your breath stunk or something.

“Green,” he then announces in a disinterested tone.

After you do a quick breath check and conclude that your breath does not in fact stink, you look down at your last card. It’s not green.

But the others have no way of proving that, so Yamaguchi takes the piece of knowledge, blindly accepts it as the truth, and chooses the colour red, believing that’ll stall your victory at least a little longer. However, much to your luck—

“I win!” you exclaim, slamming down your last card, and chaos ensues.

“NO!”

“Stinkyshima, you traitor!”

You hear the sound of a table flipping and another angry shout. In the midst of it all, your eyes meet Tsukishima’s once more. For a couple seconds, there’s a standstill that settles between the two of you as you wait for the other to speak up first.

“You’re welcome,” he says finally, making sure to really emphasise the words.

You scoff at him. “I totally could’ve won this on my own. I had a back-up plan. You just made it a tiny bit easier.”

With an eyeroll, his response is short and simple and strangely compliant, “Okay.” With how often he glares and rolls his eyes and whatnot, you’d think that’s all he does in his free time. Probably practices it in the mirror, too, to make sure he’s expressing the right amount of annoyance.

“But… thanks anyway,” you reluctantly add. You decide to be gracious and omit the you egghead part out of your sentence.

“You’re welcome,” he says again before visibly flushing at the realisation he’d just said the same thing twice. Awk-ward.

Nonetheless, instead of relishing in his moment of embarrassment like he thought you would, you grin and bump shoulders with him, as if the two of you are best buddies now or something. And quite frankly, after seeing you smile like that at him rather than your usual sneer or sleazy smirk, Tsukishima isn’t entirely against the notion.

[fakakta-art]

I have this Jewish Dick Grayson headcanon but I'm not Jewish so I was wondering if you'd give me feedback or something like that if it's not too much trouble. I imagine he'd be raised secular by his parents and when he starts living with Bruce he participates in Jewish traditions/holidays because Bruce uses his own family experiences to try and connect with his new kid. so Dick decides to fully lean into it and convert to Judaism. I think he'd have a Bar Mitzvah to formally show that, but Bruce didn't have any formal event for his because without his parents it's difficult. so when Dick gets to really celebrate his Bar Mitzvah it's a special moment of connection for them and Bruce is very proud. Dick becoming Jewish helped him reconnect with his mom after her death and it's all very sentimental. once again I'm not Jewish so I don't know if that makes sense

I'm always happy to talk Jewish batfam and i absolutely love when people share their HCs with me! :D I'm so flattered you reached out! If you mean you HC Dick as having a Jewish parent/parents, but just not being raised religiously Jewish, he wouldn't actually need to "convert". Judaism is an Ethnoreligion, aka: an ethnicity AND a religion, so you can be ethnically Jewish and not religiously, and vice-versa. It is enough to simply be born to Jewish parents (Mother if you're traditional, either if you're more reform). Conversion in Judaism is quite different from a lot of other religions, since Judaism is considered a "closed" religion. Gentiles (non-Jews) can convert, but the process is arduous and involves lots of study and communications with rabbis, etc.

If you mean raised secular in that John and Mary are both gentiles, but Dick ends up adopted as a kid by Bruce (a Jewish man), then he could be raised culturally Jewish, and might even be accepted as such in some Jewish communities depending on the denomination and such, but he would technically still need to convert to be "officially" Jewish.

A Bar Mitzvah does not count as a conversion, it's a separate, but very important coming-of-age ceremony that considers you a Jewish adult when a boy turns 13. It comes with responsibilities and practices, definitely something I love imagining Dick having, being supported by Bruce though, and reconciling with his past and such.

For the sake of not making the worlds longest post, I'm putting the rest under the cut!

I'm totally a sucker for HCs of someone reconnecting to their religion, I'm also totally a sucker for Jewish HCs so you're totally in my wheelhouse! I absolutely invite you anytime to message me or anything cause I could go for days on this.

I wont dump my entire hoard of HCs on you, but yours are actually quite similar to some of mine!! I figured I'd share some ehe, no obligation to read it or nothin'

Bruce I HC to be Ashkenazi Jewish, on both Martha and Thomas's side. I imagine they were somewhat conservative (Masorti) Jewish, but Martha's extended family was Orthodox. I HC Bruce was raised pretty Jewishly until his parents were killed, and from then on Alfred, who is not Jewish, did his best to uphold the values and religion that Bruce's parents had left behind with him. Also, bc I always establish a latke Opinion for every Jewish HC I Have...Bruce would totally be a cream cheese and lox latke guy, bougie ass. As for a Bar Mitzvah for Bruce...I usually waffle between HCs of either

A) Bruce not doing a bar mitzvah celebration since there's many practices associated w the parents that he knew would be too painful, but as an adult he regrets not having one or might even do a belated one as an adult at some point with prodding from his kids

Or B) Alfred, knowing the importance of it, pushes Bruce to actually do it and tries his best to do the parental duties. It's sweet small and all that but still nice

As for Dick, I usually HC that his father John was Romani and his mother Mary was Jewish, born Miryam (Jewish name) but changed it to Mary to pass as gentile cause of the Antisemeitism. I HC her, and by extension Dick, as Sephardic rather than Ashkenazi (regionally different flavors of Judaism due to diaspora, very interesting to look up if you have time). Anyways, Bruce and Dick def had a "similar but different" motif about it but very wholesome. I think Dick still knew stuff and had a connection to it, but didn't like, attend services or anything pre-Bruce. He probably loved Purim, though. I imagine when Dick was young, he and Bruce would celebrate Shabbat together and light the candles every week. As for Latke pref...applesauce and sour cream at the same time on the same latke.

For Jason, I actually HC him as mixed race (afrolatino, white, etc) and raised Catholic, so pre-Bruce he didn't know anything about Judaism at all. I don't think he'd have crazy strong connections to religion of any sort, but he'd still have some adjusting to do. I think he'd participate culturally with the fam, doing Passover seders, playing dreidel, etc, but I don't think he'd be doing much praying or anything. Sour cream on Latkes truther, but he'll add pico de gallo sometimes if he's got it.

Now for Tim, I also HC as Jewish, but whereas Martha and Thomas were very outwardly Jewish, I imagine Tim's parents were not. In my hcs, Janet was raised conservative but sorta dropped it. Jack was raised reform and didn't really practice anything. I imagine they didn't want to broadcast a lot of their Jewishness out of fear it would impact their business, which they cared about more. Most of Tim's participation started and ended with the High Holy Days, or the occasional moment his parents ever rarely felt religiously inclined. Maybe some brief Hanukkah stuff, cause of the capitalism and whatnot. I think he would do a lot of his own research, though, and know enough to get by. I think he would also eat his Latkes with ketchup, bc he's bonkers.

Now for Damian, obviously he's half Jewish cause Bruce is his father, but Talia I HC as Muslim (can't remember how canon it is) and raising him practicing Islam I think makes him lean more towards that religiously even if he is ethnically both. He's interested in Bruce's culture, bc thats his dad! but not like, with spiritual intent at his age. I think the whole fam though is happy to celebrate Eid with him, support him fasting during Ramadan, etc, though! When Alfred makes Latkes though he prefers applesauce or plain, as most kids in my experience prefer.

ANYWAYS sorry this got WAY longer than I thought it would. I have more for the rest of the batfam and stuff but i'll stop here. Biggest HC dump EVER huh..anyways if you actually got to the end thanks for reading it! feel free to message me any questions or send another ask, clearly, I usually have something to say about it LOL