#Roberto button

[jess-21990]

Idk......maybe that sadistic smirk you're wearing Alberto would give that hint xD

[voltageapps]

October 23 is the birthday of Roberto Button from Be My Princess and Be My Princess: PARTY 👸

Happy birthday Roberto!

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Monaco 2015

-I just wanted to see what pre-Red Bull Max looked like

-Carlos and Max teammates!!

-Honestly wasn’t planning on watching any races pre-2016, but I might have to- for Red Bull Seb. Again, any recs?

-“The target is to go as fast as possible and overtake as many cars as possible” *gasp* No way, really??

-This is my first time watching Grand Prix de Monaco as well. That turn (had to look up what it’s called: Nouvelle Chicane?) looks interesting

-Woah Kvyat, I wasn’t aware of your game

-“Nico Hulkenburg in the wall” Aaaaaah whyyyyyyyyyy

-Carlos p16 from the pitlane, in a Toro Rosso!!

-“Hulkenburg with great speed now with his front wing intact again” Small mercies

-“We think Maldonado ahead is struggling, so we need to put pressure on him” Yes Max, let’s go!!

-Oh, they almost made contact!

-“Go for it Max” Yessss, so cleaaan

-“Verstappen is through on Maldando, we expect him to catch up with you soon, but your pace is good” Hehe

-Pretty cool how the circuit is downhill

-Is that Max?! Oh it’s Carlos?!

-“This is Hamilton setting the pace, which as the race leader he’s allowed to do, this is Rosberg trying not to get too close and this is Vettel picking up pace” What do you mean Rosberg is trying not to get too close?

-The only overtakes I’ve seen so far were both done by the Toro Rosso boys

-KR: “Tires are okay, apart from that issue that I just told you. There’s no point in going close to the car ahead” Mans was moving in so much silence, his radio revived me

-The only way any moves are being made right now is through undercuts

-This race is 78 laps long??

-Oooh Sebastian might be able to undercut Nico…or not?

-“The Toro Rosso, going really really well here- starting from the pitlane” Hell yeah babyy

-Did blue flags always exist in f1?

-“Slow pit stop, slow pit stop for Verstappen” Ah no!!! Kill me!!

-“Such a shame for the seventeen year old who was driving nicely in eighth place” 😭😭

-At least he didn’t come out last?

-“Okay we have to close the gap on these guys ahead now, nothing is over yet”

-FA: “Why we had that penalty?” How are you asking this now??

-DR: “Just really struggling with the rears” Woah his voice was deep there

-Those were good stops from Red Bull

-Woahh Kimi Raikkonen just overcut Daniel. That was surprising

-SV: “Oh we didn’t make it”

Mercedes to NR: “ In front of Vettel now, good job”

Sebastian unfortunately was not able to get past Nico

-Fernando?? Oh come on! He was having a good race!

-“First Monaco retirement since 2004” 😮

-“Bottas versus Verstappen, I’ve got a feeling we’ll be saying that for quite a few years” 🙃

-How has Carlos made it to p13?!

-JB: “What happened? What happened?

“Jenson, we don’t think it affects us, we do not think it affects us”

Oh? Now I want to know more about their team dynamics

-“Ricciardo is struggling ahead. He’s struggling ahead. He’s on the same strategy as you” How dare you!

-Please let this be a better stop for Max

-Yay it was good

-Kimi complaining about blue flags will never not be hilarious

-Maxxxxx, you genius!

-“Fancies unlapping himself against the Ferrari”

-MV: “Maybe it’s good I stay behind Vettel, because it’s easier to overtake”

-“Okay the situation is that you have Rosberg and Vettel behind you, and behind them there is Verstappen. You are racing Verstappen. So be careful. He is fast” Don’t you just love radios like this?

-Come on come on come on, Max! You can do thisss! I need him to get that 10th place

-Ah so closeee

-Whyyy is it so hard to overtake hereee

-“Something is going to happen here isn’t it?” Something good I hope

-Whyy are we speculating a safety car?

-Kill me

-I’m done

-Goodbye

-Ohmygod did Nico just take lead of the race??? And Seb p2?!

-Not Lewis going from a 21s lead to p3. How does that even happen??

-Whyyy are you showing me so many replays of that crash? I don’t wanna see it. Leave me alone

-LH: “What’s happening guys?”

-That was so unexpected. I was about to check out on this race

-Are they really about to let 9 cars unl-ap themselves?

-“If you were Rosberg, you pretty much conceded second place about half an hour ago” Life is full of surprises

-Carlos Sainz in points babyyy

-8 laps to go

-Kinda want Seb to keep p2 but also for Lewis to get past and battle it out with Nico

-“Then what do Mercedes do with Nico Rosberg and Lewis Hamilton” You let them race of course

-“Sebastian Vettel like a Tuna, Lewis Hamilton like a shark” ….

-“And Nico Rosberg seems to be handed here, a Grand Prix win in Monaco”

-Okay I must admit, the race got really exciting after that safety car

-KR: “Did you see what that guy did? He just pushed me off very wide. That’s not very nice”

-Daniel?? He made contact but he’s made it past

-Oh Red Bull pulled team orders?!

-LH: “Impossible to pass”

-Daniel did it somehow

-“Okay good, he’s saying that it’s impossible to pass you, that’s good, keep doing like that”

“There are desperate for Ricciardo to get in there, just in case there’s a squabble” That would be really fun

-Both my devices are dying and there are two laps left. I’m hanging on the edge here

-“Okay mate I think you need to get stuck on to this one”

“I think he’s there with a knife, fork, spoon and shovel” Haha

-LH: “Please stop talking to me please” Everyone is on edge right now

-Ohmygod don’t give me hope of Daniel podium

-Okay yeah it’s the last lap, I doubt anyone’s making any other moves now

-“If we don’t overtake any cars, we will be asked to give the position back to Kvyat” Whyyy

-“Once, twice, three times in a row in Monaco!”

-Hello?? What’s up with Lewis’ car?

-Ah so much drama in the Mercedes garage. Meanwhile, a very ecstatic Nico

[leclercskiesahead]

So many questions. How did he get the trophy so quickly. Why did he tag so many people when only sr and Borja are there. Why is sr’s shirt so open.

[redcarpet-streetstyle]

[pizzatowerask]

Q: how does it feel to manage such an extraordinary place like the Tower? Is it hard?

Meet Roberto and his first answer!

Don't forget to hit the ask button!

[cinsketches]

Excuse me as I go off about Meryl because I don’t know if people have truly grasped just how important of a character she is to the story—especially in Trigun Stampede.

Aside from being a stand-in for the audience to learn more about the world, I also have to point out that Meryl is the one driving the story forward —both metaphorically and literally.

Second, this story wouldn’t have happened without her.

- If she hadn’t untied Vash, her and Roberto would have been wandering around for who knows how long trying to find a town for help.

- If she hadn’t insisted on helping Vash during the duel, things likely would have happened very differently (assuming Vash didn’t have some sort of plan, but I digress-).

- While the sand steamer was a group effort, it wouldn’t have worked if Meryl followed after Roberto and ran. Her insistence on staying behind to help prevented Hopeland from being obliterated (and indirectly saved Wolfwood from losing the one thing he’d been fighting for all this time).

- And the most important part of all, Meryl’s choice to go back for Vash.

Her mentor had just been killed, and the people she’s about to go up against are far bigger and much more powerful than she could ever hope to be. Her only weapon is the little derringer Roberto handed over that can shoot two bullets.

Yet she steels up, presses the button, and goes back.

She witnesses Vash be used against his will and is practically powerless in stopping Knives from using his brother’s power to destroy the world. All she can do is run up to the glass and scream for Vash to wake up. With how tiny and insignificant she is, you’d think her efforts are fruitless, right?

But Vash hears her. He hears Rem. It wakes him up from the memory hell his brother trapped him in, and he runs towards Rem’s voice. Her voice.

And she breaks him out.

An entire planet was saved by one little reporter with a gun. An entire planned genocide of the human race 150 years in the making was just foiled by Meryl goddamn Stryfe.

Trigun may be a story about Vash the Stampede, but who’s really the protagonist here?

[minniethemoocherda]

Just A Friend To You

A/N: Thank you so much to @pkmndaisuki for agreeing to be my beta reader for this fic! I never would have spotted any of my spelling mistakes otherwise lol! Please go check out their amazing X-men art! I hope you guys enjoy the fic! I know I don't post that frequently but I am trying my best to help keep this ship afloat! Xxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

From across the diner, Morph watched as Jubilee and Roberto inched ever closer to one another, neither of them quite yet taking to leap to touch.

Ah, the perils of young love, Morph thought. Although it wasn't as if the perils of love stopped once you became an adult. Something that they knew all too well as they turned their attention to the man sitting opposite them.

When Logan had learnt that the two teens were going on a date, he had demanded that he chaperone them. After many protests, Jubilee had agreed, on the condition that Morph also came along to make sure Logan didn't stab anyone, namely Roberto.

Which was how Morph came to find themselves that Saturday afternoon, watching a date, whilst on a not-date with the man they were in love with.

Most times when they and Logan were hanging out they would be roughhousing, or watching TV, or playing basketball. But here there was nothing to do but just enjoy each other's company. It was nice.

Morph wore their usual human form but with dark jeans and a pink crop top that they may or may not have borrowed from Gambit's wardrobe.

Wolverine was reluctantly wearing a buttoned shirt, because Jubilee had demanded that if he insisted on stalking them then he should at least look presentable. Morph was pretty sure that Logan had stolen his shirt too, probably from Scott, especially given that it was at least three sizes too small for him. He'd had to roll up the sleeves to hide how short they were and left the two buttons undone as it wasn't wide enough to fit across the expanse of his chest. Not that Morph was complaining about the view.

Nor were they complaining about the sweet potato fries that came with their burger.

"You should try one of these," Morph told him as they dipped one of those said sweet potato fries in ketchup.

The next second, Logan leant over the table and bit the one that Morph had been holding between their fingers. Which under different circumstances could have been romantic, but instead reminded Morph of when their old family dog would steal scraps of food from the table.

"I didn't mean that one you animal!" Morph cried, throwing a fry at his face.

But Logan bit that one too, catching it in his mouth, which then spread into a wide grin. With the ketchup dripping from his teeth onto his white shirt, he really did look like an animal.

In retaliation, Morph stole one of his onion rings which Logan protested with a "Hey!" But didn't otherwise complain.

Of course, that was when Roberto finally got the courage to make a move and draped his arm over Jubilee's shoulder.

Morph heard the familiar snikt of Logan drawing his claws from under the table.

"Calm down Wolvie." Morph said, reaching under the table to wrap their hand around his wrist. "I doubt he's gonna try to jump her in the middle of a diner. And even if he did, Jubilee can handle herself."

"She sure can." Logan said, his snarl turning into a proud smirk as he put his claws away.

Now, Logan might say that he didn't like kids, but Morph had seen how he interacted with them.

He always gave into Jubilee's demands to go shopping, or play video games with her, no matter how much he said he wouldn't. And when the teenager needed a non-judgmental shoulder to cry on, he was always there.

Morph knew Logan didn't want kids of his own, and in their line of work they couldn't really blame him. But still, they couldn't help but think it was a shame. He really would make a good father.

It was just one of the many reasons why they loved him.

Suddenly the waitress appeared next to their table and Morph realised that they were still holding Logan's wrist. They quickly retreated it back.

Thankfully, the waitress appeared not to notice, too busy trying to balance an overstuffed bowl of ice cream, sauce and sprinkles in her hand that she placed on their table.

"We didn't order that, lady," Logan told her.

"I know. The girl over there did," the waitress replied, pointing over to Jubilee where a similar looking desert was placed upon her table. When Jubilee caught them looking her way, she waved a cheeky grin and Robert just looked confused.

By the time Morph looked back, the waitress was gone and Logan was digging a scoop out of the ice cream.

"What?" Logan shrugged, shoving the spoonful into his mouth. "I ain't gonna waste free food."

Melted ice cream dripped down Wolverine's chin adding to the collection of stains on that poor shirt, and Morph took a scoop themselves to try to distract themselves from that train of thought.

They had to admit that the dessert was pretty good, not too creamy yet not too solid with a perfect balance of ice cream and toppings.

Logan must have thought so too because as he licked his spoon he let out a low rumbling moan. Morph knew that in this form, they had to have been blushing at pink as their t-shirt. Not even Logan dipping one of the left over fries in to it could lessen their blush, so they did their best to hide it by ducking behind the large bowl as they ate the remainder of the monster of a dessert.

But try as they might, Morph couldn't distract themselves from the thoughts in their head. Logan had to know how this looked right? The pair of them, sharing a dessert. Morph swore they had already seen some of the other diner patrons giving them funny looks. Maybe Logan didn't care? Or maybe he wasn't as hyper-aware about appearances as Morph was?

At least their internal breakdown didn't last for too long, thanks to Logan's never ending appetite.

Morph glanced over at Jubilee's table to see that they had finished too.

Now all that was left was to pay the bill.

"I'll get it." Logan said, grabbing some bills from his trouser pockets. "I'm the one who dragged you into comin' with me."

"Wow, a burger, some frees and a free dessert. You really know how to treat a girl." Morph teased, as if the idea of Logan ever treating them to a real date would be a complete joke.

"Fine." Logan snorted, handing the money over to the waitress. "Next time I'll persuade that Roberto kid to take Jubilee some place fancier."

Next time? Morph felt their stomach somersault.

"Well, if you insist on taking me somewhere fancier then we will have to get you a new shirt," they said, pointing to where a third button had now snapped free. They tried to hide the fact that they felt left like they were about to puke up their own gloop.

"Why? You not likin' the view?" Logan said through a smug smirk.

"I like not getting kicked of restaurants more."

"So you do like it," Logan stated, that smirk turning predatory.

Wait, was Logan actually flirting with them? No, of course not. That could not be happening. This was just their usual banter. Right? Morph must have gotten so caught up in how the pair looked that their brain must have tricked itself into believing that Logan was flirting with them. Yes, that's what must have happened.

Of course that was when Jubilee decided to interrupt.

"I thought I told you to wear something decent!" She cried, grabbing Logan's leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of his chair and throwing it over the exposed expanse of his chest.

"I wore a shirt didn't I?" Logan protested, shrugging the jacket on properly. "Besides, Morph said they liked it."

Jubilee turned her accusatory glare towards them.

"Okay first of all, I never said that. Also I was the one who told Logan that shredding his only shirt wouldn't get him out if wearing one in the future so this-" Morph waved their hands in Logan's general direction. "Is not my fault."

Jubilee stared up at the ceiling but she was unable to stay annoyed for too long as Roberto placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and when her gaze once again found his and a smile once again graced her face.

"Whatever. Me and Roberto were going to go to arcade if you two insist on stalking us."

Morph glanced towards Logan and was surprised too see him shaking his head.

"Nah, you kids go ahead. We got our own plans."

Jubilee looked between them, a suspicious smile on her face that had Morph's stomach churning. But for once she chose to keep her mouth shut simply waving them both goodbye.

"You kids have fun!" Morph called after them.

"But not too much fun." Logan grinned making Roberto's brown skin pale as the teens headed for the door.

Despite their teasing, Morph truly was happy for Jubilee. Robert was a good kid. They were good for each other. Roberto helped to keep her grounded whilst she showed him the light around them.

Morph watched as Roberto reached out his hand and Jubilee didn't hesitate to take it in her own. Morph knew that it wasn't easy for the pair of them easier. As an Afro-Brazilian and Asian-American couple, they too drew their own fair share of less than happy looks. But the two teens ignored the stares, only having eyes for each other.

"Not that I'm complaining about getting out of babysitting duty," Morph said getting up from the table. "But I wasn't aware that we had any plans."

"We're going bowlin'." Logan stated, getting up himself, when he suddenly refused to meet their eyes. "If you want. 'Cus we still haven't been since- I mean we ain't been in a while."

Morph chose to believe that Logan's uncharacteristic fluster was because he had reminded them of how they still hadn't gotten the chance to go bowling together since they'd been freed of Sinister's control, and not the fact that he'd accidently made it sound like he was asking them out on a date.

"I'd love too." Morph quickly covered up the sincerity with a joke. "As long as you promise not to act all stabby when I beat you."

Logan snorted.

"As long as you promise not to act all bratty when I win."

"No promises."

As the two of them left, Morph couldn't help but glance down at Logan's hand as it swayed between them. They hoped that one day, they would have the courage to take his hand too.

[carletes]

Nooo now i cant stop thinking about gigi and teto in tsor 😭

“And then after the meeting with the ambassador from Maroc?”

“After that, mi vida, I should be free to luncheon with you,” Prince Sir Carlos of Hiberia and Anglosax declared with a smile as he shrugged on an oilskin coat over his doublet. It was a blustery winter day in Thameside, which meant it was wet. “Is that acceptable?”

His husband, Prince Sir Lando of Anglosax, sniffed thoughtfully. By contrast, Lando was reclined in a settee, his belly full with child, looking ever so slightly discomfited. It made Carlos’ core clench; he longed to run his fingers over Lando’s lips, kiss the pout from them. “I suppose that is acceptable. You must give me a full summary of the ambassador’s concerns.”

“When do I not?” Carlos demanded, still fussing with the buttons on his coat. His hands were swatted aside by his valet, Pierluigi, whose no-nonsense ways and subtle humor had won the famously anti-valet Hiberian prince over. Pierluigi rolled his eyes as he buttoned Carlos up and shrugged at Lando.

“When has he not, he asks, as though he will not fall at your feet and fuss over your heirs the moment he is through the doors.”

“Precisely,” Lando exclaimed. He had recently taken a fall while on an excursion, and had been consigned to their rooms on pain of revoking sparring privileges. “I’m not fucking jesting, Carlos, I need a proper accounting of every word. Pier, will you–?”

“Of course, my liege,” Pierluigi clipped out, with a smart salute to boot. “I will take the notes myself.”

“What days have befallen us,” Carlos growled, turning away from his valet’s stern appraisal, “that a man is discouraged from being concerned for his expectant spouse?”

But before Lando or Pier could answer that question, there was a rap on the door.

“I will go,” Pier said, turning on his heels to investigate. Lando sighed and made to stand; immediately, Carlos closed the distance between them and took Lando’s hands, helping him up.

“You are well?” Carlos asked, all previous consternation forgotten. Lando smiled at him, patting Carlos’ cheek. Carlos turned his head and kissed Lando’s fingers, his palm, his wrist.

“I am well,” Lando said. “I just wanted to stretch.”

And Carlos watched as his spouse lifted his hands over his head, groaning softly as his beleaguered joints protested. He was beautiful; tired, yes, but beautiful, the glow of being encumbered hypnotic. Carlos took Lando’s hips, seeking the ties of his gown.

“Carlos,” Lando warned, rolling his eyes.

“I will be quick,” Carlos murmured, his lips already beneath Lando’s ear. “It will not take much.”

“You are a filthy man,” Lando said, but Carlos could feel Lando turn his head to the side for Carlos’ ministrations. He would not need to prepare Lando; they had already made love that morning, Carlos awoken by Lando’s wanton moans as he bobbed his head on Carlos, his eyes as guilty as they were desperately, coming off of Carlos’ cock with a sinful pop as he gasped, “Please, please–”

But before Carlos could lift Lando into his arms, Lando said, firm, “Carlos. Pier went to check the door, remember?”

Oh. Yes.

“Sorry,” Carlos grumbled. He suddenly resented whoever was at the door. He resented the Maroquen ambassador. He resented everyone who wanted his time. If he had his way, he would be tending to his gorgeous, strong, brave, powerful, disagreeable, scowling, lustful spouse himself.

Alack and alas.

“Pierluigi,” Carlos called, adjusting his coat over his newly tight breeches. “What news?”

“No news, Sir Carlos,” Pier called from the other room, his voice a little odd. “Your friend, Sir Roberto of Merhi.”

“Ah!” Carlos said, smiling. He took Lando’s hands, leading Lando towards the main room. Lando waddled alongside him, looking ready to give birth for all that he was merely 6 months into his encumbrance. “Teto, ¿que tal?”

Then, Carlos stopped. Teto had a look on his face. He seemed…distracted. Unfocused. “Ay, Teto, ¿que pasó?”

“Hm?” Teto said, looking at Pier. “Oh. Uh. Nothing. Your Royal Majesties,” he said, bowing to Lando and Carlos, oddly formal.”

“All is well, Teto?” Lando said, and he too sounded curious.

“Yes! Yes! Apologies for worrying you, Lando,” Teto said, shaking his head. He smiled at Carlos and Lando. “You both look well. I just came to tell you that the Maroquen ambassador would like to extend an invitation to luncheon after the meeting.”

“Luncheon? No, I must decline,” Carlos said firmly. “I said I would luncheon with Lando.”

“It’s fine,” Lando said quickly, peering at Pierluigi, who was himself quite silent. “Maybe I’ll join you and the ambassador for luncheon.”

“Lando,” Carlos protested, but Lando put a hand on his elbow.

“The air will do me good, I am stifled in here,” Lando said firmly. It was as close to an order as Lando would issue, so Carlos sighed.

“Very well. I can keep an eye on you, then.”

“Perhaps,” Lando said musingly. Then, “Carlos, have you introduced our friends to each other?”

“Oh!” Carlos said, laughing. “I am so sorry. Yes. Teto, my friend, this is Pierluigi Della Bona, my valet and new friend. Pier, this is Roberto de Merhi, one of my oldest, truest friends.”

“A valet,” Teto said, his voice distracted again as he shook Pier’s hand. “I am surprised, Carlos.”

“He cannot cow me like he did the others,” Pier said, an odd smile on his mouth, eyes glittering. “I am as stubborn as this toro.”

“Then you are certainly worthy of your post,” Teto said. It was quite a long handshake.

“He is very capable,” Lando said suddenly, grinning. “Pier puts Carlos in his place. Kind of like you, Teto.”

“Hey,” Carlos said reproachfully.

“And he has started the mustache trend in the palace,” Lando continued as if Carlos had not spoken. Carlos frowned—had Pier?

“I have noticed a glut of mustachioed faces since my last visit,” Teto said, and Carlos once again wondered if that was true at all. “It is a- handsome look on some men.”

“Some?” Pier asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Not everyone can pull off such a strong look.”

What the fuck was everyone talking about.

“Come, husband,” Lando said, slipping an arm through Carlos’. “Why don’t we let Teto and Pier get acquainted, and you can help me get dressed.”

Oh. Yes.

His friends’ odd behavior forgotten, Carlos quickly helped Lando back to their rooms, closing the door behind them. There, Carlos lifted Lando onto their bed.

“Will you deny me now?” Carlos asked, straddling Lando’s thighs, pulling the ties of his gown loose. They came away, exposing his husband’s light golden skin, the expanse of his belly, his lush beauty.

“No,” Lando said, smiling coyly, “but you might not want to continue once I tell you what I’ve observed.”

And indeed, when Lando told Carlos that he believed Teto and Pier had certain eyes for each other, Carlos could have sworn his manhood retracted.

[iphigeniacomplex]

[ID:

A picture of Riverdale show runner Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa edited to be standing in front of the Welcome to Riverdale sign near Sweetwater River. He is smiling and wearing a large red velvet bow tie, a button-down shirt, and a dark zip-up hoodie, and has his hands clasped in front of him. Over the image are the glittery pink words "Sparkle on! It's Wednesday! Don't Forget to be yourself!"

]

[jess-21990]

O.o? *double checks* NOPE! still a women! XD lmao

[yeoja-dream]

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader 

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none 

Word Count: 3.5k

You woke up the following morning to the blaring of your alarm waking you from a restful sleep. Instantly, you are in a bad mood. The post-concert blues were hitting like a truck. How were you meant to go back to regular life after a night like that? 

You pick up your phone, scrolling through work emails. I’ll have the payment for this month’s tuition tonight! The twins will be missing from the 10 am hip-hop intermediate class! Ms. Y/N I really think I’m ready for pointe! You sorted through the usual sort of emails when your eyes landed on a more unusual email. Private lesson request. That’s weird. You muse to yourself, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes as you open the request, sliding yourself up into a seated position in bed.

“1 adult lesson, style is hip hop and modern…” You mused out loud scrolling through the details. “9 pm is cutting it a little close 1 hour before closing, but it says you’re prepaid so…” You trail off. “Approved!” You announced out loud before hitting the confirm appointment button through the appointment portal. “What was the name anyway?” you scroll back up and snort at the answer. Kim Seokjin? That had to be a joke or a crazy coincidence. Either way, you were definitely going to have to ID this new client. Imagine if it was him - the thought amuses you as you begin your day, preparing for a day of classes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite your initial grumpy start, and perhaps it was the thrill of a mystery client who, you admit you’ve been dreaming about being Jin all day, but the day passes you quicker than you first believed. Not even Roberto in your toddler dance class 1, his endless energy typically giving you an endless headache, broke your stride today. 

You waved the last student out, shutting the door and locking it behind you. Can’t be too careful these days. You reminded yourself. You glanced at your watch, 8:15. Perfect, 45 minutes until Mr. Kim Seokjin walks through my front door. You thought to yourself, bemused. 

Putting aside your delusion, you organized the studio for a private lesson, and most importantly, you could slip into the back and enjoy a light dinner. On your phone, you sighed dramatically as you found yourself flipping through photos from last night. When will I ever get to experience something like that in my lifetime? You whined inwardly, bemoaning your modest finances. Maybe in another life 100 years or so, another group will pop up and you will have saved enough to get the same seats. Maybe. Your daydreaming was interrupted, however, by the unmistakable sound of a locked door trying to be opened. 

Your eyes snap to the time. 8:58 pm. Shit. How could I have let time get away from me like that? You snap up from the paper-cluttered desk and run, as fast as your legs will take you through the studio room and into the reception area. It was the person visible through the glass that stopped you dead in your tracks. 

You blinked once, twice, and rubbed your eyes for good measure. Holy. Shit. HOLY SHIT. THAT WAS KIM SEOKJIN. KIM SEOKJIN IS STANDING OUTSIDE MY STUDIO RIGHT NOW. Amidst your internal, slack-jawed panic, Jin stood just outside, black t-shirt and baggy pants hung off him effortlessly. He held up a phone screen and pointed at it, saying something you couldn’t make out through the glass. 

Let him in you idiot! Your inner voice scolds. I can’t give a dance lesson to Kim Seokjin! I should be asking him for advice! You fired back. Let him in, idiot. She says, firmer this time which is enough to break you out of your stun. 

You walk up to the glass door, and with a trembling hand, undo the latch and swing open the door. 

“Sorry, I had a lesson scheduled for tonight, if now isn’t a good time I could reschedule.” He offers politely. He thinks I forgot.

“No, no come in please!” You said as you opened the door wider for him to slip in. “I didn’t forget it's just uh,” He made eye contact with you “...robberies.” It was all you could finish. 

“Right well, no worries!” He said, his disposition relentlessly sunny despite how badly you were screwing this up. 

“Oh sorry before I take you back,” You start, and again the voice in your throat dies into a timid squeak as you finish your sentence “I just really to see some ID and if you would change your shoes I would really appreciate that you see its just house rules and-” 

“Sure. No problem. Here’s my ID,” he said, handing it fully to you. Can I sit here and change my shoes?” He asked, gesturing to the bench next to the reception desk. 

“That is exactly what it is there for. I will sign you into the system so it won’t change you the no-call no-show fee.” You plopped down at the desk, ID in hand. “Is there a reason why there is a sticker over the numbers?” 

“Oh yeah, I have to show my ID sometimes and all it takes is one person with a good memory and bad intentions to steal my identity. I am sure you understand.” He said, slipping on a pair of clean, white sneakers. 

“Oh wow yeah, I guess that’s true. A lot of weirdos out there, huh?” You asked, sliding the ID back towards him. 

“Tell me about it.” He said, picking up the card. “What do you think, more handsome in real life, right?” He asked with a wink. 

As if reflexively, your eyes rolled before you had the forethought to process how rude it might have appeared. Jin laughed heartily. 

“No sorry! Force of habit!” You said, putting your hands together apologetically. “Of course, you’re more handsome in person!” 

“No no!” He said, still laughing. “It was a funny reaction, genuine.” He added, sliding the card into his wallet. “Shall we?” He asked gesturing to the dance studio. 

“We shall,” you said, leading the way. 

The studio lights had been dimmed, the normally bright, overhead fluorescent lights seemed too sterile for a one-on-one interaction. The rest of the equipment had been put to the sides of the room, leaving it completely vacant with the exception of the worn tape on the floor demarking where students were to stand. 

“So let's start with some stretches.” You said, sitting on the floor in the center of the room. Jin followed your command wordlessly. You turned yourself at an angle to him, feeling immediately more at ease. It was easier to deal with him on your periphery. There was a sensation, one that you had been able to ignore on account of your nerves that had been present, you now observed, since he had first arrived. It felt like blue zaps of electricity buzzing through you, and as you spread your legs, lean forward into a split, and feel the stretch, it clicks. This was the feeling you had at the concert. The electric current, the dizzy, hazy feeling that washed over you when you locked eyes with them, it was coming on stronger and stronger, and it was making you bolder. 

“So,” You began. “Let's start with the basics. What brings you to a random dance studio when your company has plenty of dance teachers and choreographers?” You ask, stretching an arm across your chest. 

Jin mirrored you. “Let’s call it happenstance. Besides, the greatest way to learn is to be taught by many teachers.” 

“Okay, Confucius.” You teased. “What did you want to learn today?” 

“I want to learn whatever it is you are learning.” He said matter-of-factly. 

You snorted. “I doubt you want to learn what I am learning.” 

“Try me.” He said, standing up. 

You followed his lead, standing. “If you insist.” You said with a shrug. From the back wall of the studio, you dragged two chairs to the center of the space, about 5 feet apart. “I have been choreographing a routine using this.” You said gesturing to the chair. 

He knitted his eyebrows together in concern for a moment, before the expression dissolved, as did his resolve. 

“Alright,” He began, “Show me first, so I can get an idea of what it is you are referring to.” 

You walked over to the music player, set a 10-second delay, and walked over into position. As the beat hit, you moved your body with long-practiced poise and grace. The routine was like lovers making love for the first time, slow, explorative, and careful to begin. As the song continues, though, the intensity rises before BANG! The finale. 

You lost yourself in the music, whatever high that crept into your system made you carefree and light. You put your everything into every moment, and as you grinded and body rolled, you never forgot whose eyes were on you. You didn’t shy away. 

As the song finished, you let loose the final, explosive move, a visual orgasm to finish the routine. You let the silence hang for a moment while you caught your breath, without the music, shame began to reach through the haze.

“Well…?” You asked, turning around. You weren’t sure what you expected him to look like, or even how you expected him to react, but as you turned, a dark, hungry, and heady expression sat on Jin’s face. Where before he had been kind, respectful, clinical, even, your heart rate rose and a scarlet blush traveled up your face as you couldn’t help but imagine what he was capable of. “Jin…?” You asked again, taking a step toward him. 

As you do so, he blinks and shakes his head. When he looked at you again, his expression was once again as kind and friendly as it had been before. “Sorry.” He said “Got a little lost in thought there. That was amazing, where did you learn to dance like that?” 

“I’ve been practicing my whole life,” You said. “I’d like to think I came out of my mother’s womb dancing.” You said with a chuckle. 

A slightly uncomfortable silence hung in the air before you cleared your throat to speak again. 

“Did you want to learn however much of that we can in…” you glanced at your watch “20 minutes?” You asked. 

“Oh, sure!” He said. “It looks like fun.” 

You walked over to the media player, setting the song’s tempo slower, and began the process of breaking down the dance, beat by beat. Sure enough, being the professional dancer he is, he is an extremely fast learner, never needing to go over the same part more than 3 or 4 times before he has it memorized. You watched him carefully, allowing yourself to be slightly more critical of him than you might be with a more inexperienced student. 

“This part,” you demonstrated, rolling your body with practiced fluidity, “needs to be sexier, more fluid.” 

“How is this?” He asked, his movements still stiff. 

“Not quite.” You said. “Pardon my French, but pretend you’re… well…” you trailed off. 

“Making love to someone.” He finished for you. 

“Right.” You agreed. 

“How about this?” He asked, a perceivable jerkiness still present. 

“Hm.” You mused to yourself. “I think you aren’t using the right muscles. Give me your hand.” 

He offered his hand to you, wordlessly.

You grabbed his hand, opened his palm up flat, and placed it on your stomach. The physical connection sent a strong zap through your body. Focusing on your breathing, you followed through, allowing him to feel the way your muscles were contracting as you did the movement. His expression was hard, unreadable. 

“So… did you feel that?” You asked pulling his hand away. 

“Yeah… I did,” he said, his voice far away and dry. “I definitely did.” 

“So uh, you try now.” You said, feeling shy. 

He did so without comment, and the visual of which causes something to tighten within you. 

“Yeah, that looks a lot better.” 

“Could you,” he began “Ah, never mind.” he cut himself off. 

“Hm?” You ask “I probably don’t mind so ask away.” 

“No, it sounds kinda pervy.” He said, looking down, ashamed. 

“I don’t, uh…” You stammered, unsure how to process what he just said. Was this guy about to ask me to what, take my clothes off so he can see better?? What the hell?

“Oh god that made it sound really bad.” He blurted. “I just wanted you to feel to make sure I was also using the right muscle groups but that sounded kind of weird sorry!” 

“Oh!” You laughed. “You should have said as much. That’s no problem.” 

You walked closer to him, placing your flat hand on his abdomen. You noticed now, as your hand connected with his body, warm tingling spread through your hand. It felt good, you decided, but the unexpected sensation had you pulling back your arm in shock.

“Sorry. “I got zapped.” You lied.

Placing your hand back on his abdomen, through his t-shirt you could feel the hard, lean muscle. The warm, tingly sensation returned, and you watched and felt, mesmerized, as those hard muscles contracted and relaxed through the roll, resisting the urge to cross your legs to relieve some of the building pressure inside of you. 

The proximity, the connection, it swirls through you and you find yourself transfixed, looking up at him. Your breathing is heavy, the current running through you, the haze swirling through your mind, and the tension and heat that was building in your core, it was almost too much to handle. You blinked up at him, his expression dark and unreadable. He looked down at you too, bringing a hand up, cupping your face gently. He searched your expression for a sign of protest, and when there was none, he dipped his head down, and soft, gentle lips met yours. 

You immediately felt breathless, and everything inside you was screaming, chanting at you to keep going. Maybe it was the dizzy way he made you feel, but this all felt so undeniably right. The kiss deepened, your lips parting to one another as you excitedly and feverishly explored one another’s mouth. He didn’t seem to dare to take the next physically, but you needed him. 

You ran your hands up his body and then around his neck, using the new position to press yourself flush to him. He moved his arms down, wrapping solidly around your waist. He backed you up slowly until your back was against the cool mirror of the studio. He pinned you there, placing his hands on each side of your head, against the glass. His arms flexed and relaxed with heavy practiced, restraint, as it took every fiber of his control not to rip your clothes off, take you, and mark you as his on this studio floor. 

He pulled away, suddenly, taking 3 halting, jerky steps backward. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Wha…?” You ask, dazed and confused. 

“I have to go.” He said, his voice serious and strained. In a flash, he was gone, with the sound of the front door closing behind him the only evidence he was ever really there. 

In the complete silence, the heated haze that filled your mind subsided slowly, and your mind worked in overtime to process the series of events that had just happened to you. An achey feeling blooms in your chest and a different type of heat spreads to your face, embarrassment. What the fuck you thought to yourself, he probably thinks I’m some kind of crazed slut. You allowed yourself to sink to the floor, pulling your knees into your chest tight. What the fuck is his problem anyway, he kissed me first, you reasoned. Maybe I am just a god-awful kisser, you added bitterly. Maybe I took things too far. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Fuck uncomfortable, he started it! He pinned you against the wall, he absolutely loved it. Two parts of your mine argued back and forth. Whatever the case, sitting in your dim studio feeling bad for yourself didn’t bring you any closer or make you any happier, so you resolved to pick yourself up and bring yourself home. 

You jammed your keys into the keyhole of your front door, unlocking it and entering your quiet apartment in a numb, dissociative daze. If you gave yourself 100,000 guesses this morning to guess as to how your day would end, you still wouldn’t have guessed you’d find yourself in the position you were in. Sleep tonight would be impossible, you decided. You made your way to your bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing one of the large, brown, glass bottles inside, shaking it tentatively. The last of the medicine you sighed inwardly, shaking the last two tightly-bundled, pill-sized leaf preparations from the bottle. When the nightmares would keep you awake, Dad would bring you two of these with a glass of warm, cinnamon-spiced apple cider. “These will help you sleep,” He said, handing you the pills. “And this,” he continued, “is full of spices to keep the monsters away.” Handing you the mug of hot, fragrant liquid.

“Like what?” You asked, voice still trembling from crying. 

“Cinnamon.” He told you, climbing into bed next to you. 

“Monsters don’t like cinnamon?” you asked, putting the bitter pills on your tongue, swallowing quickly. 

“Can’t stand it,” Dad said, wrapping an arm around you, holding you close to his side. The contact is comforting. “One sniff of it and they go running for the hills!” 

You giggled at that. “It must suck to be a monster, then.” You decided. 

“Most definitely.” Dad agreed.

The memory was bittersweet. You swallow the bitter preparations, speed through your evening routine, and slip in between your sheets, already feeling the drowsy effects blossom through your body and mind. With the last of your cognition, you grabbed your phone, sending a mass email. You needed a break.

Dear students and families, 

I have come down with something and as such, I will be suspending all classes for tomorrow. The following day, however, classes will return as scheduled. Thank you for your understanding. 

Best, 

Teacher Y/N

You hit send, and allow your eyes to close, sending you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I can’t get through,” Namjoon said, eyes closed, eyebrows knit together with concentration. 

“Should we go up to her place?” Taehyung asked, looking at the older man, concerned. 

“No,” Jin said, voice stern. “We have done plenty.” 

“We?” Jungkook snorted. “Hyung, last time I checked it was you who planted one on her, not us.” 

Jin shot him a dirty look. “If we had sent you, you would have lost control 30 seconds into being there and we would be having a much different conversation right now.” 

Yoongi walked over to Jin, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. “You are completely sure?” Yoongi asked, his tone flat, measured. 

“As I have said 100 times over, yes,” Jin said, pushing down the growing irritation in his voice. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault he had gone too far. The way you looked up at him, the feeling of your hand on his body after he had just touched you, watched you move, he couldn’t help himself. He only hoped now that you felt the same way. 

“She could have taken something and that’s why you can’t reach her, right Namjoon-hung?” Jimin asked, running his fingers absentmindedly through the older’s hair.

“Mmm.” He grunted in affirmation. “She could also have a talisman or a barrier spell preventing me from getting in.” 

“So she’s probably fine,” Jimin said, voice calm.  

“Probably.” Namjoon agreed, sighing and allowing himself to slump fully onto Jimin, looking for comfort. 

“Well,” Hoseok chimed in. “Feeling bad or anxious isn’t particularly productive. Jinnie-hyung took things farther than he intended, but it sounds to me like she was probably okay with it. What probably freaked her out was you up and leaving without so much as an explanation like an antisocial weirdo. That would cause anyone to overthink.” 

“He’s got a point,” Yoongi said, his arms now draped over Jin’s shoulders, holding him in a back hug. 

“I know,” Jin said with a sigh. “If I could go back and do it differently, I would. But don’t you think by blocking us out she probably wants to be left alone?” 

“How would she know Joonie-hyung’s powers?” Jungkook said. An obvious question, perhaps, but a brief silence settles over the group. It is a good point. 

“The way I see it, we tell her or we don’t, and we need to decide which pretty quickly,” Hoseok said. 

“I would want to know if I were her,” Taehyung said. 

“Me too,” The group agreed. 

“So we offer a connection,” Yoongi began. “Contact her, apologize for being a weirdo, offer to meet up and explain some things.” 

Jin flinched at the weirdo comment. “Let her decide,” He said, “It’s not a bad idea.” 

“Then let's do it,” Taehyung said anxiously. “I hope she says yes.” 

“We all do,” Jimin said, grimly. “But now, we wait.” 

[kits-ships]

mutant f/o poll pt 2 (nonsharers pls beware!!)

kurt won first place! and remy and quicksilver got second :3 but all three of those are wrong >:3!!!!!!! (i voted for magik hjfkdg)

[beanibon]

vash and wolfwood when they're drunk AND jealous?

Drunk & Jealous Trigun Boy x Reader

TW: drinking & smoking, drunk behaviour, vomiting (Vash), Wolfwood getting a bit handsy

I coded this oddly 98/BLR versions, but Roberto is mentioned so feel free to translate however you wish!

When Vash drinks, he drinks. Not even Roberto can keep up with Humanoid Typhoon as he chugged pint after pint of beer, sighing in content as he slouched over the bar.

The poor guy had forgotten why he began downing alcohol like it was the end of the world, until your form appeared in the corner of his eye.

Your smile was addictive, even more beautiful in his drunken stupor. The way your shoulders bounced as you... laughed?

Vash raised his head slightly, oblivious to way his body protested the action, eyes squinted to catch what pulled such reactions from you. Wolfwood leant against the bar, cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he spoke, shirt unbuttoned just that one button more. The way you teased Wolfwood back, hand placed against his chest as you playfully shoved him away, had Vash pouting.

A bitter taste that overpowered the flavour of alcohol rose in his throat, coating his tastebuds as he watched the scene unfold. Hands forming fists as Wolfwood leaned in close, just that little more daring than before.

Without even realising he had moved, Vash slumped against the unaware priest, nonsense spilling from his lips. Wolfwood reacted fairly, struggling to claw the blonde off him while threatening to kick his ass.

The scene was extremely humorous, causing you to giggle. Such angelic sounds had Vash frozen, eyes lovesick as he drank up every noise you made, only to snap out of it when Wolfwood landed a punch to his jaw.

"Ow ow ow! That was uncalled for!" Vash cried, rubbing the swollen jaw.

"You asked for it, Needle Noggin." Wolfwood seethed, leaning back against the bar with a fresh cigarette. Vash witnessed as he passed you the lighter, shamelessly asking if you would do the honours.

Dignity thrown out the window at this point, Vash clung to your legs the moment that small flame flickered, eyes wide and begging. The way he was acting surprised you, face rubbing against your leg as you became unbalanced.

Thankfully Wolfwood caught you, scolding the blonde gunman once more. But the moment Nicholas stopped speaking, waiting for some kind of sign that Vash understood, his face turned a worrying shade of green. Both you and Wolfwood panicking as Vash emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor.

As expected you were kicked out. Wolfwood was livid, urging you to leave the borderline unconscious Vash on the side of the road, which you politely refused.

Hauling Vash to the hotel he had booked, you couldn't make sense of the nonsense he was mumbling. Every step he'd murmur something quiet, shifting his weight against you just that bit more.

It was weirdly strange, not to mention concerning. Perhaps he was trying to apologise? But what for? Sure you were kicked out because of him, but you couldn't find it in your heart to blame the poor guy.

Once inside the room, you awkwardly dropped Vash onto the bed, cringing at the way it creaked under his weight. As you were making sure everything was sorted for the next morning, Vash called for you, reaching out while making childish grabby hands at you.

You'd be lying if the sight didn't make you laugh, Vash could be incredibly sweet when he wanted to be. Obliging you sat besides him, giggling as this giant man child wrapped himself around you, nuzzling into your side.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled against your waist. "Wolfwood-"

"I know Vash, you were jealous weren't you?" The answer was obvious, Vash tended to act a fool when jealousy consumed him, and at times it took you a while to catch on. "You don't have to worry about me, I'd never leave my favourite gunman for a priest."

Vash could feel himself getting all giddy, warmth spreading all over his chest at your words. Sounds akin to purrs echoing inside the room as your fingers combed through his hair, humming as it lulled Vash to sleep.

Wolfwood tends not to over indulge in things such as alcohol consumption, but he will let loose once in a while, finding solace in a good drink. Besides drinking with company was his preferred option, and what better way to relax than alcohol poisoning and cards?

He was convinced Vash was cheating at this stage, throwing down yet another royal flush with a victory cheer. Damn blonde bastard was good after a few drinks, leaving Nicholas taking another shot of foul tequila at his loss.

The insurance girls were dutifully keeping score, simply enjoying the scene of Wolfwood losing his winning streak to a drunken Vash the Stampede.

As Meryl began shuffling the card deck once more, a sweet laugh brought his attention to you.

You were suppose to be ordering your coworkers drinks, yet it appeared someone had distracted you. The lawman had you enraptured in every word spoken, putting on ridiculous theatrics so your attention remained on him.

Wolfwood was focused on you despite the room constantly spinning, so he wasn't paying attention to the game, frustratingly losing once again due to his negligence. Vash once again rubbed it in, pouring him his next shot. Nicholas downed the foul liquid, grimacing as it burnt the back of his throat, coughing into his fist.

More drinks were placed before Meryl and Milly, the priest noticing that you'd finally broken away from the lawman, who watched you from his place at the bar. Once you approached Wolfwood, now back in charge of pouring the shots, he made sure everyone knew what was rightfully his.

The moment you bent over, carefully pouring the disgusting tequila into their respective shot glasses, Wolfwood cupped your ass. Relishing in the way you squeaked at his advances, spilling the alcohol onto the wooden bar table in your flustered state, his hand squeezed the soft flesh.

"Wo-Wolfwood!" The way you stuttered his name was satisfying, face red as he forced you onto his lap.

Vash childishly cheered, making embarrassing comments in regards your predicament. It had you hiding behind your hands, silently begging for your mentors to rescue you from the drunk, touchy priest. Yet both Meryl and Milly dared not get involved, flashing apologetic glances your way.

You stayed there for the remainder of the night, Wolfwood playfully towing reactions from you every chance he got, shooting smug glares towards the lawman who watched on. Yet he wasn't satisfied there, no Wolfwood needed to make it clear that no one else was allowed to touch you.

He purposefully lost, throwing his cards down in faux defeat. Yet as he reached for the glass of slightly tinted tequila, Wolfwood brought the glass to your lips, tipping the liquid into your mouth before smashing his lips against yours.

Everyone at the table gaped at the sight, Meryl dropping the pencil she used for scoring, Milly who sooned gasped in delight, and Vash staring on in complete shock.

Peeking from behind his shades, smirking against the kiss the moment that pathetic bastard left in an embarrassed rush. Only then was Wolfwood satiated from his drunken jealousy, releasing you to return to the game as if nothing happened. Leaving you in flustered, embarrassed state to make heads and tails of what just happened.

[cera-writes]

I want to request then a roberto da costa x reader fluff

reader having a crush on roberto but not knowing really what to do/How to tell him, she follows jubilees advice and tries to show him by little actions: whenever he mentioned something he saw or wanted, besides him being with very money, she would get it for him

it would continue until he notices or reader admits it and they happy

I hope I phrased in a way you can understand

A/N: Roberto is still a teen in X-Men '97 so this fic is strictly cute fluff and reader is about the same age as him in this fic! Tags: obviously sfw, fluff, coming of age, first crush Prompt: Reader has been crushing on Roberto for some time. One day, at the local arcade, she finally confesses to him. Pairing: Roberto da Costa x F!Reader

"I Just Really Like You."

The shrill beeps and flashing lights of the arcade were practically a second language to you. You weaved between cabinets, a determined glint in your eye as you scanned for your next opponent. A familiar laugh drew your attention to the Street Fighter machine where Sunspot, all sunshine and charisma, was effortlessly defeating a challenger.

With a grin, you nudged him on the shoulder. "Hey, Roberto, ready to lose?"

He glanced over, a playful glint in his dark eyes. "Is that a challenge, (Y/N)? You know I go easy on newbies."

The playful banter was a familiar routine. You and Sunspot had met a few weeks ago at the X-Mansion's rec room, a shared love of classic arcade games sparking an instant friendship. Today, you were on a mission to prove you were no newbie.

The next hour flew by in a flurry of button mashing and playful trash talk. Roberto's laughter filled the air as you emerged victorious in a particularly close match of Dance Dance Revolution.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, wiping a playful bead of sweat from his brow. "You win this round, (Y/N). But next time..."

He trailed off, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. The air crackled with a sudden undercurrent you hadn't noticed before. Self-consciousness bloomed in your chest.

"Maybe next time," you mumbled, suddenly finding your shoes very interesting.

Sunspot's fingers brushed against yours as he reached for his jacket. "Hey," he said softly, his voice warm. "About next time..."

You dared to meet his gaze. His smile was different now, softer, tinged with something more. Before you could overthink it, the words tumbled out.

"The truth is," you blurted, cheeks burning, "I, uh, I like you, Sunspot. Not just as a friend."

A slow smile spread across Sunspot's face, lighting up his eyes like miniature suns. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice a husky rumble. "Me too, (Y/N)."

The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that neon-lit haven. It seemed victory wasn't the only prize you'd be taking home today.

A/N: Oh my god, I rewrote this whole fic cause I didn't like it initially lol.

[rebelrayne]

he's back......

what my husband thinks of the season six male islanders with little to no information

aka he based it on their profile in the game. under the cut because it's long.

jamal

black tony hawk. he looks like he's cooking up some drama. obviously hasn't learned to button up his shirt. i don't see how he would have had a threesome cause he doesn't even look like he could have a twosome. small bulge. he has glossy lips. i'm done with him, he's kind of boring.

lewie

his combover looks stupid. did he paint on his five o'clock shadow? semi-pro? what's that mean? he's a fucking weekend warrior? "golden retriever energy" aka he has bad hips. his body just looks gross. it's all elongated and shit... his ears don't match his fucking face. he's got chicken ass legs to be playing football (soccer). he probably cries when he has sex. who the fuck names their kid lewie? he's the kmart version of gary. he looks like he's poor. probably gets drunk off two white claws. his mouth fucking irritates me. it's like he has an asshole for a mouth. show me his picture again - ugh just look at how fucking ugly he is. his personality probably matches his looks.

also was told to attach this meme curtesy of my husband's mind:

ozzy

what the fuck does he tell his barber? like 'keep it long in the front but cut everything else i want no hair on any other parts of my body'. at least he's proportional (unlike lewie). seems like the kind of guy that would invite a girl over to hang out then breaks out a fucking bong. and then gets stoned off his ass. i've never seen that color nipple before. his jaw is the shape of a rhombus. his puppy dog eyes don't work on me. what kind of dancer is he (🤨)? because if he's an erotic dancer, he only works day shift because he's not good enough for night shift.

roberto

he actually looks kind of cool. i don't like the way he holds himself though. he looks like he could be a pirate - he looks like johnny depp. does he have to take his watch everywhere? like that citizen watch doesn't mean you have money, bro.

ryan

he looks like frodo baggins. "we have to save the shire!" probably has some hairy ass feet. he's literally trapped in the body of a 12-year-old and looks like he's 4'10". he's a singer? what's he sing? hobbit songs? where did he buy his shorts? the fucking youth section? (tries to zoom in, gets annoyed he can't). is definitely the one that is going to try to talk mc and amelia into having a threesome - then makes them compete for who's better.