#intimate gymnastics

[comebackali]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Clone Wars (Star Wars), Infidelity, Wartime, Casual Sex, Shame, Guilt, Denial, Miscommunication, Sparring, Secret Relationship Summary:

Usually, it starts with a wall at his back.

[coochiequeens]

I know this blog focuses on TIMs invading women’s sports and locker rooms but Saving Women’s Sports means more than that. Like calling out sexist bs when companies give men real clothes to compete in and women get basically underwear.

The Nike Air Innovation Summit in Paris on Thursday.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

By Vanessa Friedman April 12, 2024

Ever since the Norwegian women’s beach handball team turned the fact that they were required to wear teeny-tiny bikini bottoms for competition into a cause célèbre, a quiet revolution has been brewing throughout women’s sports. It’s one that questions received conventions about what female athletes do — or don’t — have to wear to perform at their very best.

It has touched women’s soccer (why white shorts?), gymnastics (why not a unitard rather than a leotard?), field hockey (why a low-cut tank top?) and many more, including running.

So it probably should not have come as a shock to Nike that when it offered a sneak peek of the Team U.S.A. track and field unies during a Nike Air event in Paris celebrating its Air technology on Thursday (which also included looks for other Olympic athletes, like Kenya’s track and field team, France’s basketball team and Korea’s break dancing delegation), they were met with some less-than-enthusiastic reactions.

See, the two uniforms Nike chose to single out on the mannequins included a men’s compression tank top and mid-thigh-length compression shorts and a woman’s bodysuit, cut notably high on the hip. It looked sort of like a sporty version of a 1980s workout leotard. As it was displayed, the bodysuit seemed as if it would demand some complicated intimate grooming.

Citius Mag, which focuses on running news, posted a photo of the uniforms on Instagram, and many of its followers were not amused.

“What man designed the woman’s cut?” wrote one.

“I hope U.S.A.T.F. is paying for the bikini waxes,” wrote another. So went most of the more than 1,900 comments.

The running comedian Laura Green posted an Instagram reel in which she pretended to be trying on the look (“We’re feeling pretty, um, breezy,” she said) and checking out the rest of the athlete’s kit bag, which turned out to include hair spray, lip gloss and a “hysterectomy kit,” so the women would not have to worry about periods.

When asked, Nike did not address the brouhaha directly, but according to John Hoke, the chief innovation officer, the woman’s bodysuit and the man’s shorts and top are only two of the options Nike will have for its Olympic runners. There are “nearly 50 unique pieces across men’s and women’s and a dozen competition styles fine-tuned for specific events,” Mr. Hoke said.

Sha’Carri Richardson

Women will be able to opt for compression shorts, a crop top or tank and a bodysuit with shorts rather than bikini bottoms. The full slate of looks was not on hand in Paris but more will be revealed next week at the U.S. Olympic Committee media summit in New York. The Paris reveal was meant to be a teaser.

Anna Cockrell.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

Mr. Hoke also pointed out that Nike consults with a large number of athletes at every stage of the uniform design. Its track and field roster includes Sha’Carri Richardson, who happened to be wearing the compression shorts during the Paris presentation, and Athing Mu. And there are certainly runners who like the high-cut brief. (The British Olympic sprinter Dina Asher-Smith, another Nike athlete, told The New York Times last summer that while she opts to run in briefs, she also leans toward a leotard style, rather than a two-piece.)

What Nike missed, however, was that in choosing those two looks as the primary preview for Team U.S.A., rather than, say, the matching shorts and tanks that will be also available, it shored up a longstanding inequity in sports — one that puts the body of a female athlete on display in a way it does not for the male athlete.

“Why are we presenting this sexualized outfit as the standard of excellence?” said Lauren Fleshman, a U.S. national champion distance runner and the author of “Good for a Girl.” “In part because we think that’s what nets us the most financial gain from sponsors or NIL opportunities, most of which are handed out by powerful men or people looking at it through a male gaze. But women are breaking records with ratings in sports where you don’t have to wear essentially a bathing suit to perform.”

The problem such imagery creates is twofold. When Nike chose to reveal the high-cut bodysuit as the first Olympics outfit, purposefully or not, the implication for anyone watching is that “this is what excellence looks like,” Ms. Fleshman said.

That perception filters down to young athletes and becomes the model girls think they have to adopt, often at a developmental stage when their relationships with their bodies are particularly fraught.

And more broadly, given the current political debate around adjudicating women’s bodies, it reinforces the idea that they are public property.

Still, Ms. Fleshman said, “I’m glad Nike put this image out as the crown jewel of Olympic Team design,” because it may act as the catalyst for another conversation that has been long overdue.

“If you showed this outfit to someone from the W.N.B.A. or women’s soccer, they would laugh in your face,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to normalize it for track and field anymore. Time’s up on that.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

Cw: a little suggestive so maybe 18+only, I’m just kinda playing around to figure out his voice ygm?

Dick Grayson who’s the world’s biggest flirt and doesn’t mind one bit that you’re the feistiest thing he’s ever come across.

“You know, I could always help you spar, get your hand eye coordination up to my levels,” he’s still the dorky gymnast kid he’s always been- just older and a lot hotter.

You’d been in the league with him and went solo when he’d founded the Titans but he still pops up every now and then to tease and get under your skin like he’d done when he’d still been Robin.

“And what level would that be Grayson? Second base?” Your chest is heaving as you stand, body dripping in sweat from your latest sequence.

Dick knows you don’t really need pointers, but how else is he going to make a show of wanting to be around you.

“I’m wounded,” he places his hands on his chest and leans forward, the perfect opening for you to swipe your foot at his legs and have him falling forward.

Instead, the stupid (read:sexy, cocky, egoistic, did you say sexy yet?) man jumps over the anticipated attack and flips you onto your back.

“You wound me, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes and flip you both over, so you’re hovering over him.

“I really might,” he winks at you as you stand and you shake your head. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Dick stands, takes your towel and wipes his face and then leans on the doorframe.

“Came to check in on my girl, that so bad?” You get up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands holding your waist tight as he pulls you closer. “Spend the night with me?” He trails his nose against your jaw, his lips stamping kisses under your neck on the myriad of beauty marks you have that make your knees weak.

“Dick,” you grumble, hands sinking in his hair. “Fine,” you try to keep your voice all gruff and steady but he knows better. He feels the jump in your pulse, his ears are insanely attuned to you so he hears the little hitch in your breath too.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he pulls away with a smug smile and you know you’ve got a hickey somewhere on your neck. “Meet you by the bike in ten?”

“If you think I’m getting on that thing with you Grayson, you haven’t missed me enough.” There’s a poorly hidden smile on your face as you back out of the training room.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. I’ll be by the bike.”

You don’t protest much when you step outside, dressed all pretty with your duffel bag full of clothes and whatever else you might need and find Dick leaning on his car- a midnight blue that puzzles you on how no one figured him out to be Nightwing for so long.

“Such a liar,” he takes your bag from you, chucking it into the trunk as you reach for the door.

“Touch that handle and we’ll have issues,” your hand drops immediately. “Didn’t want you to feel all desperate having to rub up on me the entire ride back to our place.”

The way he says it, our place, warms your heart. You and Dick had the roughest time getting accustomed to each other and now that ease, that familiarity, that willingness to share something so intimate and it be easy- it makes everything you’d both undergone insignificant.

“Yeah b’cause I’m the desperate one between us,” He smiles as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

“Glad you could admit it, gorgeous.” He kisses you then closes the door before you can complain and all you hear is his laugh as he rounds the car to get in.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

As a person with sexual trauma I actually really Vibe with the Drow Scene at the Brothel with Astarion and I wanna talk about my own experience to show how I relate.

When I'm not the one initiating, all sexual or romantic or intimate contact gets immediately translated into assault by my brain. That means if my partner of 18 years gropes my boob in the morning with a tired, affectionate grab, I may get caught off guard and snap, accusing them of crossing boundaries or otherwise "over" reacting, wherein I have to back peddle as soon as I can back off and secure myself mentally and physically out of reach.

But. If I am in the mood, I will crawl all over my partner, I'll touch, I'll invite touch, everything from gentle to rough- unless I get triggered. If I get triggered, I'll shut down halfway through whatever is going on. Mentally, I'll find myself in an escapist fantasy that is also sexual, change the partner that I'm with or who I am in my head, but my body tends to go kind of numb, I tend to go kind of limp. However,

During these situations, it doesn't always mean I want my partner to stop. It's frustrating for me to have these reactions, but I can get really upset if my partner backs off when I want to see the act "through" even if I'm not "in it". And that becomes a discussion of consent, as well as a really complex mental gymnastics situation where my partner has to decide if they want to continue when I'm kinda checked out, and I have to decide if I want to continue too.

Sometimes if my partner decides to stop because I'm not having fun, I can get angry. At myself, at them. It's not rational, it's angry at "the situation" and not them. Maybe I want to see you finish, but maybe I'll cry afterward.

The point with the Drow and Astarion is he wanted to try,he promised he would dip out if he didn't want to see it through, and he dissociated midway and didn't dip out like he said he would. This is sooooo real. Sometimes I don't want to stop even when I feed Bad and it's going Bad. That's a WHOLE can of worms for sexual trauma survivors and I know some people will resonate with it.

Maybe it'll affect what choices he makes next time. Maybe he won't try an orgy again. Maybe he will, and maybe it'll go bad again, but maybe he wants to explore even when things go bad. Or maybe he will go celibate for two years and not even want your hand on his unclothed skin, but he still wants you to be with him.

I'm just saying it's messy. Sexual trauma is messy. The mental parts and the physical parts. It may make your partner unsure because you switch on a dime, you're unpredictable, some things you want wholeheartedly one moment set you off in the negative the next.

I'd love to see more exploration of how hard his journey with himself could be on Tav, honestly, because people are being SO CAREFUL in their writing with making sure they don't make a single "mistake" in supporting Astarion, and it's sooooo sweet but

Give me messy. Give me grey area. Give me hurt feelings and miscommunication and bad moods and meltdowns. It's realistic, and it's okay to write about these things. //Yes you can reblog this

[dqrciedaily]

day in the life, abj

a/n: first fic! also i know aggie didn’t play in the derby but i’m ignoring that x

-

“morning everyone welcome back to my channel! today i’m finally going to be doing a day in the life after so many requests to do one!”

at fourteen you started a youtube channel just like all your other friends, making random slime videos and gymnastics tutorials with your cousins. which later turned into a channel with over four hundred thousand subscribers.

the gymnastics tutorials and slime videos long gone but now were replaced by vlogs, get ready with mes and q&as.

as of late the vlogs had some cameos of the blonde girl in the background but the two of you had never explicitly mentioned that you were dating.

the city stirred with the promise of a new day as y/n woke to the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. beside her, aggie lay in peaceful slumber, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with each breath. y/n couldn't help but admire the beauty of her girlfriend, her heart swelling with affection.

the camera was already set up and ready to go catching the intimate women between the two lovers.

with a soft smile y/n leaned in to press a tender kiss to aggie’s forehead, eliciting a soft murmur of contentment from her lover. "good morning baby," y/n whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from aggie’s face.

aggie stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet y/n’s gaze, a warm smile spreading across her lips. today was special, not just because it was their nine month anniversary, but because they had both decided it was time to officially hard launch their relationship.

after breakfast prepared by y/n, the two set out for a morning stroll through the streets of london. y/n mindlessly spoke to the camera, capturing every moment of their walk, the way aggie's laughter echoed through the streets, the way their fingers intertwined as they walked, the way they stole glances at each other when they thought no one was looking.

after a quick pit stop at the farmers market the duo trudged back to their shared home carrying the heavy paper bags. their second stop of the day was aggie's football match, a london derby at stamford bridge, y/n had been eagerly anticipating for weeks. with her camera rolling, y/n cheered from the stands, her voice heard above the roar of the crowd as aggie showcased her skills.

with each goal chelsea scored, y/n’s pride swelled, her heart bursting with admiration for her talented girlfriend. and when the final whistle blew, signaling chelsea’s victory, y/n couldn't contain her excitement, rushing down to the barriers waiting for aggie so she could wrap aggie in a tight embrace, her camera capturing the raw emotion of the moment.

after the match, aggie and y/n retreated to their apartment, where they indulged in a homemade meal. as they sat across from each other at the table, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and shared memories. the moment was featured in the video with soft music over it.

with their hearts full, aggie and y/n settled in on the couch, snuggled up beneath a blanket as they watched their favorite movie. with y/n’s camera capturing their every shared glance and whispered conversation, they lost themselves in the comfort of each other's company, the outside world fading into the background.

as the night wore on and the credits rolled, aggie and y/n found themselves reluctant to leave the warmth of the couch. but eventually, exhaustion crept in, and they made their way to bed, where they curled up together beneath the covers, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

quiet mumbles of goodbyes and thanks for watchings finished off the vlog as in the quiet stillness of the night, aggie and y/n found solace in each other's arms, their breathing syncing in perfect harmony.

[notyourhetloki]

sleepover II (Ken x GN Reader)

Reader: gender neutral

/Ken x Doll!Reader/

A/N: Hey! This is a sequel to this post, so check it out before reading this! Also, if you're confused as to why Ken have his own house, I mentioned it in my fisrt Ken fic here. Hope you like it! (also my ask is open if you'd like more himbo stuff)

Warnings: SFW but very suggestive themes. They're naked but they don't have genitals lol, Ken has a praise kink, lots of fluff and sappy shit.

Word Count: 1.5k

—

The day was going smoothly. You and Ken decided to go rollerblading together, something you hadn't done in ages.

He actually taught you how to balance on those, but since then you had practiced so much that you considered yourself to be the best around, and you liked showing it off too!

You were dancing in your rollerblades, jumping and whirling around like a gymnast. Ken couldn't stop looking at you in awe, amazed by your skills.

He thought you were simply the best. Ken felt so lucky he had you, and soon he felt that known ache in his chest... that mysterious ache that appeared whenever he thought about you too much.

He soon joined you in your dance, trying to copy the choreography and almost nailing it. You glanced at him, admiring his efforts before saying: "You're doing great, Ken!"

Ken blushed and felt the shivers that always came with your compliments. He always tried keeping it cool though, not wanting to let anyone see the true effect you had on him. "Thank you, doll."

You two ran a few errands afterward, going around Barbieland until the sun started to set. Then, crossing his fingers, Ken asked you: "So... sleepover at my Mojo Dojo Casa House tonight?"

You smiled, immediately knowing the answer. "Yes, of course!" He closed his eyes, softly whispering: "Yesssss".

At his Mojo Dojo Casa House, you two grabbed a few drinks and chatted in front of the fireplace, talking about your day and how rollerblades had become your thing. Ken encouraged you, saying words of affirmation. "You're so cool... like, the coolest doll around. I'm so happy to be your boyfriend..." He said confidently, making your chest fill with happiness.

"Oh, Ken... thank you. You're the most amazing boyfriend ever."

Ken's chest ached again, but now this ache traveled down to his belly. He didn't know what it was, but he had felt the same thing while making out with you last night. It was... exciting.

He leaned in for a kiss and you reciprocated, petting his hair while he held the side of your face. You kissed until you began to feel the same bellyache as him, and when Ken couldn't wait any longer, he proposed: "So... wanna go to my bedroom?"

"Yes, please!" And in an instant he was leading you by the hand, running up the stairs to his bed. You were still standing up by the bedframe when Ken captured your lips and held your face in place, his desperate kiss making your knees buckle a little. (what a strange sensation!)

Your hands roamed his back, and when you lifted his shirt a little to touch some skin there, he shivered. Making a humming sound against your mouth. Somehow, that only made you ache more.

You eventually parted and Ken looked at you while holding you by the waist. He seemed a little nervous, but still brave enough to ask: "You... want to... kiss without clothes?"

There was mischief in his tone, and that felt exciting. You nodded firmly while trying to contain the butterflies in your tummy (again, what an odd sensation).

Ken slowly grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, rising until you had to lift your arms so he could undress you from it. It felt weird, you never had to manually take or put on clothes... everything happened magically! And now this... this felt strangely intimate.

He then kneeled in front of you, gently helping remove your pants. While he was at it, he looked up at you and for a moment, you had a very weird thought: 'This is definitely his best angle.'

After you were naked, you helped him unbutton his shirt and take his shorts out, leaving him bare as well.

You didn't even have a chance to process the situation before Ken grabbed your waist and pulled you into a kiss. The sudden skin-to-skin contact making you both shiver in excitement. "You're so pretty, (Y/N)..." Ken said between your lips.

"So are you, Ken... You're... you're so handsome." Suddenly he stopped to look at you, big blue eyes shining and expressions changing as he talked. "Really?- I mean... yeah, I know... but, really?"

"Yeah... you're so handsome and cool, and amazing and nice and just awesome!" Maybe you went overboard with the compliments, but you knew how much he loved them (even though he tried to conceal it from others) so you continued just to watch him crumble like last time. "I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend, I'm so happy I get to be yours..."

Ken felt out of orbit, completely high on the exhilarating feeling it was to be admired by you. His knees gave up on him, making him fall backward onto his bed. He closed his eyes while sighing. "Wow..."

You couldn't help but giggle, loving the way he thrived on your words alone. But now you were curious about all the other things you could do to make him react like that.

Climbing onto the bed and on top of him, you kissed him again. This time the kiss was slow, deep. Like you both needed to take your time and feel every single thing... that is until you started kissing his neck.

Ken started making these very interesting noises, moaning your name and a bunch of encouragement like "Oh, yes..." or "Just like that...".

The more he moaned, the more your bellyache grew. And you actually started to like the feeling of it... so you continued. You kissed his neck, his collarbone... went down to his chest and to his abs, and there you heard Ken talking to himself. "Oh, my! Yes!"

When you came back to kiss him on the mouth, Ken seemed out of breath... but still managed to grab your hair and kiss you deeply, the both of you humming against each other.

His other hand roamed your back, even daring to grab your butt a few times, making you moan in return.

Your sounds excited him, so he decided to turn you both on your sides so he could have better access to your neck. Ken kissed you there plenty and you couldn't help but moan his name a few times.

You laid there making out for an eternity, hands traveling around your bodies touching and squeezing until the sunrise. In the end, you two smiled against each other and parted to rest a bit.

You both laughed, remarking on the craziness that just happened... kissing laying down? NAKED? You two had to be out of your minds!

"I'm glad I had this experience with you, it... it felt really good, Ken."

"Yeah... me too, babe." He looked a little funny with his perfect hair all messy now, and you loved it... actually, you loved everything about him. His looks, his puppy personality, his neediness and the way he would try to conceal it, the way he followed you around like a shadow never willing to let go, the way he made you feel safe and wanted and cared for... Gosh, everything. And you needed him to know that.

"Ken... I love you, y'know?"

His eyes grew wider than ever, completely shocked and in disbelief. "Come again?!" Ken was sure he had misheard you.

'How cute' you thought, giggling at his exaggerated reaction. But you had no doubts... he had to know. "I love you, silly."

Still in shock, his eyes began to water and he quickly wiped some tears that started falling. You loved him! The most precious person in his life, his beloved, his inspiration, his muse... this was definitely the best day of his life.

"You... love me?" Ken said, trying not to sob. "I-I love you too... so much."

You smiled big at his words but also tried to comfort him, running circles with your thumb on his shoulder. "Of course I do! I wouldn't have done what we did tonight if I didn't..."

"I mean... I guess you're right." Ken smiled that big pretty smile you loved, suddenly full of newfound confidence. You loved him, he repeated in his head... you loved him.

He couldn't help his excitement, jumping out of bed and screaming to his neighbor through the window. "Good morning, Ken!! (Y/N) loves me!!"

The next door Ken smiled and waved back, but soon turned a little shocked at the view. "Good morning, Ken! That's real nice! But... why are you naked?"

Ken looked down, realizing his state. Desperately, he tried covering up his crotch with his hands (as if he had anything down there lol) and coming back inside. "Aw, shit!"

After you both put on some clothes (you borrowed some of Ken's and he felt really good about it) and had breakfast, you two went your separate ways to tell your friends about last night. A few were shocked, others were really interested, but no one was as enthusiastic as Weird Barbie.

Ken kept bragging about the whole 'I love you' thing, and you couldn't help but brag as well. When you met at lunch, you were both bubbly and happy to plan even more activities together. Ken held your hands and smiled while looking into your eyes. "So, doll... what will it be our next adventure?"

—

[scaryspears]

Bi Han x Bimbo Reader

"I need to die looking good."

This is for chickensandwich69

Warning: Bi Han is sexist (and a bit of a d*ck), and mild sexual flirting but nothing explicit.

She has priorities.

She wasn't fighting for Earthrealm, nor did she have any interest in fighting for Shao Kahn. She was in it for herself, blindsided and forced to compete, but making the most of what she could enjoy out of it.

And that was something Bi Han could respect, even though her motivations weren't. Spending time with friends, shopping, getting her hair and makeup done, and scoring herself a romantic companion.

The She/Her in question is you. You were a ballerina, a gymnast, a cheerleader, pageant Queen. It was clear competition is in your blood, so the tournament was a walk in the park for you. The fighting part, anyway. Seeing you freak out over blood was another matter.

"Do you want me to massage your hair?" you asked him, a cheeky smile on your face. He nodded, and you did as you offered.

Seeing Bi Han's face was a luxury, and you would do anything to see it as long as you could, even though you didn't mind him with his mask. You liked being the one that gets pampered, but you would make an exception for Bi Han.

He questions how it came to this, all the time.

Maybe it's your Chaosrealm blood. Nothing made sense around you but it came naturally. It happened out of nowhere. First, you're watching him train with Cyrax. Second, you're following him and yapping your mouth off. Third, he ends up doing something very intimate with you and he's wearing less clothes. And it involves his mouth and lower region.

Your relationship wasn't much of a secret, considering you were seen hugging his arm if you were both in the same room or area, but not enough lived to know it as fact. With the tournament and all. Or just in general. Bi Han saw competition in their gazes, which meant jealousy. Which meant lots of ice and blood during fights. Thankfully you were too dumb to figure it out, because blood upset you a lot, and you had only started making an exception for the tournament.

"What else would you like me to do?" you were sitting on his lap now, something in your eyes. Pretty obvious what you were feeling.

Oh yeah, that's why. There was no way he would resist this.

Bi Han may be a Lin Kuei assassin, and one that takes his profession very seriously, but he could enjoy a good lady himself. You had just broken up with your boyfriend so it felt like a fitting decision to take your attention while it was still available to him. So long as you were his no one else could have it.

Companions were not common within the clan, and you were an excellent fighter. Sure, there were the cultural differences and the clash of personalities, but if the Lin Kuei were to ever find out it would be unbelievable, so it was a right decision.

You desired him and he desired you, it worked both ways. Both of you were being selfish, he was certain, but you initiated so he had no reason to care about your feelings.

[Noob Saibot]

He grew more possessive of you, and that possession followed him when he died. Before he would freeze any man that flirted with you, these days he killed them. You were distraught when Bi Han died, but you weren't sure what to make of his new self. It was still Bi Han, but he was Goth now and you've never been with a Goth before. You were determined to try something new, however, so you kept going on with the relationship.

You didn't understand his new found problems with his brother or where his bizarre mindset came from, but your main concern was matching with your boyfriend, so you had a bunch of black designer dresses lined up in your wardrobe.

"I guess Goth isn't a phase." you said to yourself. Then again, your parents thought you were a phase.

Bi Han gently brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your cheek, even though his skin wasn't as soft as it originally was, which meant his lips were almost shrivelled into his skull. It would only be fair if you were dead as well, that way he wouldn't feel left out from lack of lips.

"Where is your fear?"

"I think I left it in my purse."

"We will find it."

You had only started getting used to his new odd way of showing his affection, but it still made your insides all fluttery. You kissed him sweetly. Your lip gloss stained on his 'lips', and Bi Han didn't show any irritation, but there was the pride she recognised. It wasn't often he gave an expression since his change.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

All about Venus/Mars <3

Venus mars individuals have a natural aroma that attracts people to them like moths to a flame, and like bees to honey.

The more confident they are, the more of their sensual prowess takes the forefront.

Be easy on them, please. As much as they like a challenge it seems the world challenged them enough through the price of love.

If a woman, women and men are intimated by them. If a man, women are enchanted by them but will typically wait for the man to make the first move. I see a lot of male crushes with men having this placement.

You tend to trigger peoples raw fascination towards your.

Most but not all, will have people “hate” them but really adore them and want to be with the romantically and sensually.

These beings know how to get to the heart with their boldness, can be very straightforward or very secretive depending on where the mars and Venus is placed.

Lovers of ambition, their love life NEEDS passion. Or they have nothing. Their impulses comes out for the people they love. These outbursts of emotions that they have for their lovers can be a lot to bare, so the right person has to understand their intensity to the T otherwise the Venus-mars person will feel depleted.

When it comes to passions out side of love, these people really need to be in it. Their love for sensuality, the finer things in life and being in a full expression of beauty is what motivates them to keep living, to keep going. They need to feel appreciated and beautiful at all times or they will feel a lack of self worth thus pushing them into lazy depressive states.

Working out and doing something athletic tends to help these wild cards a lot. They can challenge themselves in sports like gymnastics, pole dancing or anything that challenges their strength is something good for these individuals.

They have a knack for picking the right person at times, they’re literally lil cupids in the flesh lol. It’s hard to not like them when you’re near them, their confidence is so enticing.

I hope this helps !!!

[evankinard]

You asked so let me lay out the mental gymnastics I have done to reach buddie roomates

1. Not a single bts of that loft. I feel like we were getting loft bts all the time last year (also there were like so many loft scenes last year too so that might be why)

2. Built the biggest most expensive rolling stage thing of all time. I believe either they have to build new sets this year or rent the sets from fox = bucks loft didnt make the cut (pure spec on my part watch oliver post bts of the loft today on his ig takeover)

3. “Giving the fans what theyre asking for” in terms of buddie what the fans have been asking for (at least that I see the most and think the writers would be aware of) is buddie canon, trapped dads (which was mostly just finale spec but I do think could happen in cruise disaster), buck breakdown/therapy, buckley diaz fam content, death to bucks loft/buddie roommates. And buddie roommates not only captures 2 of those but is also my fav of them so my mind went there

4. Buck and eddie closer than ever / knowing each other on a deeper level than before (Im paraphrasing bc I cant remember all 20 devastating ryan quotes rn): from personal experience, you can be very close with someone, but living with them is a whole new experience and you learn things about people you never knew before. One of the most intimate ways to get to know someone imo

5. Kind of like a said with a newish audience, 10 ep season that includes 2ep big emergency and madney wedding, and also the fact I feel the show has never explicitly hinted at buddie (I dont count the s2 stuff tim has said was fan service and 601/612 felt like it but thats it) I dont think full buddie canon is on the table this season. But a great way to explicitly hint that buddie canon is happening at some point would be roommates storyline

In conclusion: there will probably be 30 loft scenes this season and Im dumb but one can dream

everybody take a look at this ask and learn. this is the exact kind of deranged unserious reaching that we've been missing in this fandom lately. I love you and I applaud you anon 🫵

[froggibus]

Valentine's Day HCs - Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, platonic! Damian Wayne

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas and platonic! Damian Wayne

Summary: how your fave batfam member would treat you on valentine's day

CW: gn! reader, some are a little ooc cause its my first time writing them, fluff and sweetness all around, dames is strictly platonic!!!

another part to my valentine's hcs!! if you guys enjoyed this, consider checking out some of the other ones!

Valentine's 2023 Masterlist

————

Bruce Wayne:

probably one of the only nights you can actually convince him to take a break and pay attention to you

(read: Alfred would ground him for weeks if he forgot to do something nice for you)

leaves you a big gift box on your bed stuffed with fancy tissue paper and a little card 

it just says ‘wear me’ and when you unwrap it it’s a super formal outfit 

Bruce doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you until he shows up at your house in one of his cars, holding a dozen roses 

he ends up taking you to his private airstrip in Gotham 

he flies you to Monaco and takes you to a restaurant you always wanted to try!! 

and since you’re away from Gotham, the press isn’t even bothering you

after dinner, he takes you to a nice speakeasy for drinks and dessert 

he even turns his phone off so that he can focus on you 100%

you guys stay the night in a penthouse suite above Monaco 

“I know I don’t always have a lot of time for you, but I hope you know that I do really love you.”

Dick Grayson:

this man is CHEESY I’m sorry 

like he goes all out and he’s not even embarrassed about it 

probably asks you to be his Valentine in like a cute promposal-esque way

he’s somewhere between between Bruce and Jason on Valentine’s plans 

like he doesn’t want to go all out to all these fancy places, but he doesn’t want to just do a date at home 

so he ends up taking you ice skating!! 

(unrelated but I HC him as a really good figure skater)

holds your hands the whole time and does like some cutesy couples skate 

also he definitely shows off what a good skater he is and does some cool gymnastics moves 

after skating, you guys go through a walk through the park 

he takes you to get some yummy street food and hot chocolate too 

“Thanks for always sticking out the good and the bad with me, y/n. Whenever you’re with me, I feel like there’s nothing I can’t do.”

Jason Todd:

I feel like this man is secretly super romantic 

he doesn’t really like big crowds and don’t even get him started at fancy restaurants where the portion is way too small 

also he’s a big softie so he probably plans something super intimate for you guys

picks up a copy of his favourite book and annotates his favorite passages 

and writes little stories and things he loves about you in the margins 

he invites you over to his place to cook dinner for you

has a playlist of your favorite music playing while he cooks

definitely something super yummy and comforting!! 

he gives you the book after dinner while he waits for dessert to be done

you guys eat dessert and cuddle on the couch and talk about books and movies 

he would definitely dance with you in the living room too!

like cute dorky dancing where you stand on his feet and just kinda sway around the room 

“I’m pretty sure you know how I feel about people, but y/n? You make me think not everyone is so bad.”

Tim Drake:

he is definitely the type to not care about Valentine’s Day 

anytime someone brings it up he has to go on this tangent about how it’s not a real holiday 

however, if his partner cares about it, he can put his own feelings behind him and suck it up for the day

definitely stays up for several days trying to plan out a perfect for you guys

but since he’s so tired he ends up sleeping in past when he’s supposed to pick you up :((

you don’t mind tho because Tim sleeping is a gift in itself lmfao 

he scrambles to get ready and picks you up not much later than he was supposed to 

he takes you to a super cute video game cafe 

you guys get some yummy drinks and cute little heart shaped cookies and snacks 

and then you guys hop on the computers to play some games!! 

he probably plays some fun little coop games with you so that you can actually spend quality time together 

takes you home and you guys just relax on the couch and watch tv 

(Tim definitely watches Criminal Minds and relates a little too much to Spencer Reid)

“I know I said I don’t really care about Valentines and honestly I don’t but I know you do and I know it’s not a lot but I just really wanted to give you the date you deserve.”

Stephanie Brown:

this is HER holiday 

like it might as well be St Steph Day

she has MAJOR plans for the two of you

and she definitely asks you to her Valentine with this cute little homemade Valentine she made just for you

she brings her camera with new film because she’s going to take so many pictures!! 

probably coordinates her outfit to yours just so you guys look all cute and matching

she takes you to a light dinner first, probably like sushi or ramen or something 

and then you guys go to a special Valentines concert in the park!! 

of course Steph knows all the songs and all the choreography 

she dances all goofy and tries to get you to dance with her too! 

sends you copies of all the pictures she takes after and posts them on her Instagram with a cute caption like

“Best Valentine’s Date Ever!! y/n truly is the loml !”

Cassandra Cain: 

she’s probably never celebrated Valentines before

just never did as a kid and then never had any interest as an adult 

but you seem so excited about it that she wants to try 

she definitely goes to Steph and Barbara for advice on what to do for you

and of course her girls have her back!! 

she’s really shy when she asks you, but she decides to go the simple route and straight up asks 

she’s so relieved when you say yes!! 

she gets you a potted plant instead of flowers cause she doesn’t really get the point of getting you something that’ll die soon 

she packs you guys a really nice picnic and the two of you go for a hike by her favorite spot 

there’s a really nice waterfall up there and some dry rocks where she spreads out a picnic blanket 

the two of you snack on the food she brought and just chat 

you’re honestly really touched that she was thinking about you this Valentine’s Day and wanted to do something special for you 

“I know it’s not much, but it’s my first time celebrating and I really wanted to do something nice for you.”

Duke Thomas:

he’s super nervous to be celebrating your first valentines together

and knowing him he just has to make it perfect 

he’s probably had his dinner reservation for like a month at least 

picks up a bouquet of your favourite flowers too (bonus points cause he gets them from a local florist instead of a supermarket) 

spends hours and hours picking out the perfect outfit too

probably calls Steph and asks for her advice on his outfit, cologne, his gift for you etc. 

is at your house ready to pick you up super early 

waits as long as you need to get ready and his jaw DROPS when he sees you 

all flustered and shy and stumbles over his words while he tries to compliment you!!

he definitely relaxes a little on the way to the restaurant

by the time you’re eating, you guys are making easy conversation and by dessert he’s holding your hands across the table <3

insists you guys go for a walk after dinner to look at the stars !!

“so, how did I do? did I nail it?”

Damian Wayne:

he is a complete stranger to the concept of Valentines 

And much like Tim he simply does not care 

however his teacher makes them make little mail boxes in school and teaches them about the history of the holiday 

and he gets a bit of a heavy heart realizing this is something normal kids do and he just really wants to fit in even if he’ll never admit 

which is what leads him to you the day before Valentine’s Day 

and of course you can’t say no to him because he’s being vulnerable with you and he’s just so fragile :((

that’s how you end up taking him to the craft store to pick up foam and ribbons and glitter glue and stickers 

the two of you sit down at the table and get to work making cute little heart shaped valentines for all of his classmates 

he probably handwrites a message on each of them individually 

things like “I tolerate you” and “you’re not the stupidest person in our class”

the spirit is there lol 

Steph and Dick definitely join in and help you guys make them at some point 

and Alfred makes sure you guys have snacks and drinks the whole time 

at school the next day he’s so nervous to give them out but when he gets his first ever Valentine he’s so happy !!

and when he gets home you’re waiting there with the rest of the family with more Valentine’s for him!! 

pretends he doesn’t care but he’s smiling and blushing and hides them in a shoebox in his closet

he looks at them whenever he’s sad :((

“As stupid as Valentines are, thank you, y/n, for helping me join in this year”

pretends he doesn’t care but he’s smiling and blushing and hides them in a shoebox in his closet

[rjhpandapaws]

Heroes that Live are Seldom Remembered

His first memory of Revali comes when the phantom of a king hands him a well worn paraglider. As he holds it and looks it over the scene around him changed. It's in a colder place and the hands holding out the paraglider go from fingered to feathered. Revali's expression is one of fold smugness. "You told me you wanted to know what it really feels like to fly. While no such feat is possible for a mere Hylian, gliding is a close second, and something I'm sure even you can handle." His words are harsh, as they always tend to be, but the kindness beneath them isn't lost on Link, it rarely is. He finds himself smiling as the scene fades around him. He is careful as he tucks the glider away. Faint though it may be a century later, Link can still feel the care Revali put into crafting this for him, and he has no intentions of letting it fall into disrepair.

He remembers more of Revali as he travels through Hyrule, and each memory he finds is more painful than the last. Early on in his journey it was a simple thing to do small feats of mental gymnastics and continue to believe they had been nothing more than close friends. But with each careful brush of ghostly feathers his denial crumbled away and was replaced with anger. Toward himself, toward the goddess, toward Ganon, and toward the blights that he had recently learned of. To everything that took away his future. They had plans, they had a future. They were going to live just outside of Rito Village so that Link could raise his horses and Revali could have the space that he so desperately craved. They would travel when the mood struck them, stay away for as long as they felt inclined. Link would retire from the nights once his service to the princess was up and they would live peacefully as former Champions going wherever the call of adventure lead them. They were going to grow old together. Until Revali grew too stiff to fly and Link had no hair left for feathers to be braided into. Instead Revali had died cold and alone thousands of miles away from Link, and Link had died in a lonely field in the arms of a princess who finally had the power to change destiny. Then he had woken up with nothing to his name except the slate and the feathers woven into his hair with the careful hand of someone who had known what they meant to him. He wore those same feathers around his neck now, tucked safely between his tunic and his chest to keep them from being destroyed.

Finally reaching Rito Village comes with another kind of pain that he wasn't ready for. The kind of pain that comes from the small intimate memories that come with spending so much of his time in one place. No matter where he looked there was always something to be remembered, there was no place safe from Revali's ghost. He was relatively sure the villagers thought him crazy when he stood on Revali's landing and let out a blood curdling scream of his own to rival that of Medoh's. Not to mention when he collapsed in tears immediately after, because not even screaming his loss and pain could make it go away. Taking back Medoh was bittersweet. Getting to hear Revali's voice outside of a memory for the first time since waking up, almost brought him to his knees again. He stayed standing because it was the only way to get his Revali back. What fuels his strength in the fight against Windblight is nothing more than anger. Every moment of pain he'd felt for his loss so far on his journey was poured into each blow against it. When it ended he felt blissfully numb up until he saw Ravali's ghost, then it was grief and pain all over again. The gift of his gale, something they had ridden so many times together was the piece that broke him in the end. What drove him to finally say something in response to Revali instead of just basking in his presence.

"This isn't fair..... I - I ..... Your gale should be yours, it shouldn't be a parting gift to me. Nor Mipha's healing, Daruk's protection, and whatever it is Urbosa will gift me in return for her freedom. None of this should have happened." His voice is ragged both from the weight of his emotions, and lack of use, "We had plans Revali. We had so many things we were going to do, sights to see.... When this ended there was so much we were going to do. And now it's just gone." The look he gets from Revali is a familiar one of exasperated fondness, and Link knows he is going to hate what Revali says next. "We both knew those plans were little more than fantasy Link. Something to make us feel like this fight was worth it. A reason to fight that might be bigger than our destiny to die." He sighs softly, "But we knew deep down it wouldn't happen. The heroes that live are seldom remembered. We are Champions, Legends in a sense, there was no life after for us, and I am sorry that after waking up you were lead to believe there was." Revali reaches for Link and neither one of them flinches when he doesn't make contact, "Just know that when this is over, I will be waiting for you like i always said I would."

The fight with Ganon is long and exhausting, and even before he lands the final blow, Link knows he won't be surviving it. He's too injured and has lost too much blood, but more than that, he doesn't want to. There is nothing left in this Hyrule for him. As Ganon dissolves into nothing, the weapon that had pierced through Link's chest does the same. He falls to the grass wet with blood, malice, and goddesses knows what else. Zelda's cries for him to "just hold on" fade into emptiness. He is content to bleed out in a field for the second time in his life.

When he becomes aware again Revali is looking down at him with a gentle smile, "You know she isn't going to forgive you for giving up for quite a while." It's said with almost a laugh, "But I'm sure she will come to understand how much you were missed." "I just wanted to be with you again." He presses his forehead to Revali's beak like old times and relishes in the contact, "I didn't want to keep you waiting another one hundred years."

Medoh is perched above Rito Village still glowing a serene blue. At night, it is said that if someone looked closely there are two spirits standing atop it's head looking out over Hyrule, one is a Rito and one is a Hylian. They're names have long been lost to time, but it is said that at one time they woke from the dead to save the world.

[starsailorjannystan]

in which you’re Kise Ryōta’s best friend, forced to watch him disintegrate before your eyes, his teeth growing sharper, his laughter going higher and his smiles getting faker. your friendship is one of the things you value most in your life. unbeknownst to you, he wants to ruin it.

long one-shot, alternate pov cheerleader!reader light angst, fluff, pining mellow, anime!kise because i’m delulu of his manga version (at least in this fic)

“What? What is it? Intimate? Private? Personal? But what are friends for, if you can’t talk to them about what really matters?  All these nights we spent talking together… How could you? How?”

The Name, Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de la Patellière

************************************************************************

You’ve known Kise Ryōta for as long as you could breathe.

Technically, you can’t remember your first meeting, since you were both in glass cribs in a Tokyoite hospital, blissfully unaware of the summer heat, but just as you were neighbours as babies in the maternity ward, you were neighbours as little toddlers in the sandbox, and neighbours as children, waving to each other from your window.

Then you had your first significant meeting in a gym. His elder sisters were taking ballet classes on the upper floor, and you were stuck together during stretching exercises in your rhythmic gymnastics class. You had offered your name, he had offered his, and it had been the childish equivalent of blood-brothering yourselves to each other.

Since then, you had been glued at the hip, like conjoined twins (without the unfortunate medical complications, of course), and people were more surprised to find you on your own than with each other.

You had followed Kise in every sport endeavour he had undertaken, from swimming to baseball, from gymnastics to volleyball, cricket to soccer, short-track and figure skating and cycling, and you watched as each time he mastered a sport and gradually grew bored with it, while you got into cheerleading in third grade and never regretted that decision. You waited for each other at the end of the school day, him on whatever sport activity had struck his fancy at the time, you running drills with the cheer squad, and you always stopped for drinks on the way back home, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your parents never minded the fact that your best friend was a boy, because they had known Kise since he was little too, and you weren’t short of girlfriends thanks to the cheer squad. Though one day you had come back home crying, and your mother had gone into full mama bear mode, until you told her Kise had choked on a bone fish at lunch. You had never been so scared in your life and you had really thought he was going to die. Your father offered to sign you up for first aid classes, and you had dragged Kise with you.

************************************************************************

Middle school had been the first time you were separated. You went to Teikō Junior High, while Kise joined Teikoku Junior High, a school known for its invincible soccer team.

You made the mistake of briefing him on Teikō’s basketball team. To this day, you still don’t know if you forgive yourself or not. But in the end, you’ve decided that time in your lives had been necessary, and your relationship hadn’t been broken to the point where you couldn’t mend it.

Kise had taken on modelling, and as always you had been as supportive as possible, secretly hoping he would stick to it, that he had finally found a hobby that would keep his interest. He had wanted to get his ears pierced, because it would make him look cool, and you had decided against telling him that earrings could cause accidents. Two girls on your squad had been practising back tucks, and one had accidently caught the other's loop earring while spotting her, and you still remembered her shrill scream and all the blood that had dripped on the mat. However, you had had your own ears pierced a while ago as a birthday gift from one of your aunts, and you had noticed the way Kise looked at your ladybugs pendants. You had always done everything together, maybe he was feeling like he was missing out on an experience. So all in all, you hadn't thought it would be a bad idea, all things considered.

Hoo boy, were you wrong.

You had ended up in a café, sharing a tiny strawberry shortcake because you were both on a diet thanks to your demanding activities, and Kise was still sniffling over the pain of the piercing. You had left Claire's with him clutching his left ear, and your endless stream of comforting words had sort of calmed him, but he had refused to pierce his other ear. You had stopped on your way to buy disinfectant, and, without his knowing, a pair of small ring-like silver earrings. And, over the half-eaten shortcake, you had offered him an earring.

"You know, I think you'll look even cooler with only one. It's a style and I'm sure you'll rock it!"

He had looked up from his spoon, eyes still a bit watery, but glinting with hopefulness.

"You think so?"

"Of course! Here, take it."

You had made sure his wound was clean, and you had slid in the earring's pin. Then, you had slipped the other earring on your right thumb.

"Look, I'll keep it until you want to pierce your other ear. How about that?"

He had nodded, and both to change the topic and cheer him up, you had said:

"You know, my school has this incredible basketball program, and you haven't tried basketball yet, right?"

That's when everything started going south.

************************************************************************

You didn't mind being small.

Sure, sometimes you wished you would be a bit taller, mostly because you couldn't afford to gain weight, as on your frame it would show immediately and your coach would double your drills, but you knew that your small height was what allowed you to be top girl. You could back tuck into next year any girl on your squad, and any boy on the gymnastics club. Your kneecaps had been stunted by tumbling, but you didn't mind.

Except when Kise joined the basketball team and suddenly every person you hung out with was way, way, wayyyyyy taller than you.

Even Momoi, who didn't even play basketball, was taller than you.

At least none of them were jerks about it. Most of the time.

"Come on, stop sulking!"

"I'm not sulking!"

Aomine was easily the worst offender. At least purple-haired guy (Murasakibara? was that his name?) wasn't really mean about it. Plus he towered over everyone so you never took it personally. Aomine however always seemed to have fun asking you how the snails were faring today, since you were so close to them. You had no idea how Momoi managed to put up with him 24/7. Though it was true that with his negative 20 IQ thing going on half the time, Aomine was mostly manageable. You’d offered to tutor him, and had been blown away by how many subjects he was failing.

“I thought Kise was bad at school,” you’d said, ignoring your best friend’s theatrical pout, “but you take the cake.”

“What cake?”

“Go back to sleep, Murasakibara.”

(You haven’t seen Kise smile like that in a while. You’re not sure Teikoku was a great place.)

So you hung out with the first-string after practice, head still pounding with the pyramid counts, thighs bruised by the bottom bases’ grips, your shoulder still smarting, pain lancing through your arm. You tried not to throw up the ice-cream you bought, and you turned your head when Momoi touched your arm.

“What do you think about this app? It could be useful.”

You shook your head, looking up to the pink-haired girl.

“Once, I’ve entered Kise’s data in it—”

“You what—”

“And it told me he was three months pregnant. So, those apps are weird. You’re better off tracking it manually on a calendar.”

(The truth was, you didn’t know. You hadn’t had your period yet. None of the girls on your squad had—except Sachiko, and you’d never seen her again after the day you’d heard her crying in the bathrooms).

Momoi smiled, before catching sight of Kuroko and launching herself onwards like a rocket, earning little more than a deadpan look, though you could see the fondness under it.

But truly, you didn't mind, because for the first time in virtually forever, Kise looked genuinely excited about his new hobby. You thought that this time he really found companionship and stimulation. You smiled back at him whenever he turned to you in the bleachers after a successful shot, marvelling at the way he seemed to light up the whole court as soon as he stepped on it. His happiness was your happiness. So you'd never shown defiance towards the basketball team. You really hadn't thought that one through.

************************************************************************

You went shopping together because Kise had wanted a new phone and you were on your fourth store raid already. You didn't see anything wrong with his current phone, which still had on its back the Hello Kitty sticker you had given him when you entered middle school. Sure, it was peeling a little, but it was fine. Kise only asked for the phone's capacity and photographic quality each time, and off you were on your quest again. Munching on your fizzy drink's straw, you raised your head as he rushed towards you. Before you could ask him if he had finally found it, he slung one arm over your shoulders and told you to smile.

Heads bonking over the screen, you grinned at each other. You were both weak for selfies and your own phone didn't have any storage space left for them.

Kise made that one his lock screen picture, and turned fully to you.

"See, it takes pictures better than my eyes."

You had smiled, too, and you'd never questioned his enthusiasm over it.

************************************************************************

Kise's modelling activities had several perks.

For one, you got to meet so many hot people it should have been illegal. You could also get reductions on self-care products, and you were too cute to be broke, so you accepted it without problems. You even got to meet (well, stare at from afar) the photographer of your favourite girl group. Half the pictures on his Instagram account were taken by you, and thank cheer practice for flexibility, because you had to contort like a circus artist to get the best angle each time.

However, his fangirls weren't one of them.

Even though your relationship was strictly platonic, you still got some really hurtful letters and even texts (how did they even get your number?), and after a while you simply blocked them out. You had lost count of all the people trying to get to Kise through you, using you as a means to an end, and you just tried to screen the people that had vile intentions.

Though you could still see how it weighed on your best friend. He was nice and bubbly with everyone, and even if you worried about the mental gymnastics he had to do, you knew he wouldn't turn into a people-pleaser. A few days ago, you had snapped at one of your squadmates who had called him a "two-faced asshole" after being (quite politely, might you add) rejected.

And across from you, he had looked glumly at his (fishless) bento, and you had asked him what was wrong.

"There's this girl that keeps following me," he had sighed. "I tried to let her down but she's incredibly annoying. And clingy," he had grimaced.

Vaguely, you'd remembered a brown-haired girl who was always lingering at the basketball gym's door when you came after cheer practice to go home with Kise.

"So she's bothering you. Want me to go talk to her?"

"No! No, it's fine."

You knew he couldn't be blunt because it would come across as rude and the rumours would kill him. Still, it made your stomach churn with anger.

When the girl had latched onto Haizaki, as you comforted Kise after his crushing loss, you thought that at least it was one less thorn in his side.

************************************************************************

You had realised you were drifting apart at the end of your second year.

Cheer practice had been cancelled because your coach's kid was sick, and you were wandering aimlessly through the streets of the commercial district, half your mind on which high school you would have to go to.

And then you had crossed paths with Kise, who had looked like he was going in one of the glass-paned windows buildings, and you had stopped dead in your tracks. Not because he was where he wasn't supposed to be, but because he had seen you and smiled at you. You recognised that smile. It had the undercurrent of tension that was usually reserved for his fangirls, and it was directed at you.

"Shouldn't you be at practice?" you'd asked.

"Should I?"

That was how you'd known something was deeply wrong.

The basketball team wasn't exactly your friend group, since you hung out with the squad most of the time and without Kise, you didn't really have anything to say to them, except maybe for Momoi and Kuroko. And still you noticed how Aomine was nowhere to be seen, and even Midorima didn't bother with acknowledging you in the halls.

And worst of all, you'd watched Kise's eyes go back to being glazed over with boredom. Every time you asked him if he wanted to talk about it, and every time he reassured you, saying nothing was wrong.

Kise had never lied to you. He had always known all your problems and secrets, and you his.

Somehow, you felt guilty about what happened.

************************************************************************

Teiko was not known for its leniency when it came to sports practice.

Still, it was you who’d foolishly risen to the bait of your squad captain, and here you were on a Friday evening, shrugging icy water off of you hoping for feeling to come back to your toes, when you could have been at home already soaking in a bubble bath.

One good thing: nothing hurt anymore, since your limbs had fallen asleep. You could still catch the last train, so you made it out quickly, grabbing your bag. You walked stiffly to the exit, unwittingly going next to the basketball gym, ruining all your efforts.

(You hadn’t taken the challenge to prove anything to that empty-brained tumbler. You knew it’d hold you back enough so you could miss Ryōta on the way home and pretend it was club stuff. You’d been avoiding him and pretending not to notice his hurt looks. You were unravelling.)

So, that day, walking past the gym, steeling yourself not to look inside, you heard those words.

“Next time we see each other, we’ll be opponents.”

You sped up, almost running to the bus stop, your ankle smarting again after your short run had warmed up your body, heart beating to the confusing tune of hurt and longing.

You weren’t sure you could handle three more years like this.

************************************************************************

Sixteen and born to win, you hopped on the train right as the doors closed, slipping in without so much as a hair caught between the metal edges. Your nails flashed hot pink against the grey of your new uniform skirt, and your hair was tied neatly. You were ready to hit the mat before breakfast.

Of course, you dropped on a seat and immediately let your head fall against the window, catching up on your lost sleep.

Under your eyelids, you couldn’t stop your mind from flashing your phone’s black screen, Kise silent after you’d texted him you couldn’t walk to school with him because of club imperatives, your heart sinking a little in your chest. You couldn’t help but remember the knowing look Momoi had given you at graduation when you’d told her which high school you were going to. As if she were one to talk—you hadn’t made any comment when she’d said she would be going to Tōō! And anyway, it was either this or Shutoku, and you wouldn’t be caught dead on the same squad as your former cheer captain. That girl was going down this year or else.

High school was going to be a good time, you’d make sure of it. New place, new people new rules, new you.

************************************************************************

When Kise Ryōta was five years old, he learnt that little girls could bend in half.

He saw one of them do it, in the gym where his oldest sister had left him while she took her dance classes on the upper floor.

She had bent so far that, for a second, he had been worried she would snap in two.

He would never forget that moment—the moment he discovered what extraordinary meant.

He would never forget any of the moments that came after, when you had told him your name and became his friend at a time when he was so lonely it hurt.

 As you both grew up, he’d started to worry you would move on. Find someone better, someone more interesting. Someone truly gifted in something the way he wasn’t—copying is the lowest form of the wit, after all, or however the saying went.

Or maybe he would get bored of you. Get bored of seeing the same face day after day.

Unfortunately, as the years passed, he didn’t grow bored.

Kise discovered a new sentiment: frustration.

And you were painfully oblivious to it, wrapped up in your own worry.

************************************************************************

First-aid classes with you were horrible for his blood pressure.

Sometimes, the instructor felt merciful and let you practise on mannequins. Other times, the elderly man fancied himself a hotshot cardiac surgeon or something and forced you to practise on live bodies. “A mannequin can’t prepare you for the feeling of ribs breaking under your hands,” he had said, dead serious, with a dozen teens looking uncomfortable as hell.

You insisted on signing up every year in order not to forget the manoeuvres. He knew where that came from, and sure, if he was to choke on a bone fish again or go into cardiac arrest from a bad collision, there’d better be someone who knew the Heimlich manoeuvre and CPR. But if you were the one doing it? He was going to choke anyway.

You hovering over him, eyes on his mouth, gaze focused and jaw set? Yeah, every session was torture and you didn’t even notice. Were you even his friend? Did you even care a little bit about his feelings? How could you not feel the way his skin burnt under your fingers when you pulled him into a practiced recovery position?

As he drifted away from his own teammates, from the new passion basketball had kindled in him, he decided against telling you the only thing keeping him coming to practice was the thought of walking home with you.

************************************************************************

He didn’t have a clue most of the time.

Everything was fine, and then something switched. The day he started undressing you in his head—absent-mindedly, like it was nothing at all, like you weren’t his most precious friend, like he wasn’t unravelling the last thread of his reality—was the day he knew he was fucked six ways from Sunday. You were stuck in a push-and-pull with each other, and he didn’t know what to do.

It seemed Kise could not keep his friendships going smoothly.

You holding his hand or hugging him was never a problem before. He refused to spoil your relationship like with the other Miracles. On the other hand, throwing it all away was so tempting, the easy way out, burn all the bridges and pretend it never happened. If you had been someone else, he’d already have done it. But you were you. You were not some girl he could just toy with, speeding it up to get faster to the break-up.

On a good day, he would psych himself into trying to talk to you—and always failed miserably to follow through with his plan.

When you were younger, you’d hold sleepovers at his or your house, in the dark, by candlelight, giggling uncontrollably until his sisters or your parents came to scold you gently.

He appreciated candlelight even more now, some seven years later and several hours a day spent under the unforgiving blinding flash of a photographer’s camera. He liked the warm flickering glow of it, how the candle slowly died, and you’d agree on going to bed, but would end up talking again until either of you fell asleep. He liked catching glimpses of you in the dark, piecing you back together in his head, fragments of you in this soft glow haunting his dreams, and he'd wake up with strands of your hair in his dry mouth and his hands uncomfortably close to you and he'd go straight to the bathroom. Being overly enthusiastic at breakfast didn’t quite make up for it, unfortunately, and he’d pretend not to notice the question in your gaze.

At the height of summer, he gave up on faking indifference at the way your shorts rode up on your thighs, showing blue and purple bruises where you’d been gripped countless times, propped up by bottom bases for a pyramid. Lying on the grass, he tried to focus on your words despite the blood rushing in his ears, thinking about how much he wanted to make those bruises his doing, how he wanted to—

He came later and later when you were having sleepovers, photoshoots and practice eating away at his time, smiling sheepishly to your father working in the living-room, you were already half-asleep on your covers spread on the floor, near your open window, aquarium glowing softly purple, pump-pump-pumping water. Your eyes two bright spots on your lit-up face when you pulled gently on his sleeve to make him lie down next to you. He complied every time, exhaustion making his limbs weak. He tried to sleep and not think about how hard it was to not touch.

School was no respite for him. When he managed to hide from his fangirls, you spent the break stowed away, pressed against each other like when you were little, and life was a river under a rainbow. You leaned on his shoulder in the hallway, staying still until the motion-activated lights turned off.

You would both pretend everything was fine, and that this wasn’t the worst time of your lives.

************************************************************************

You looked at him but you failed to notice how he looked at you—how his gaze followed the hair catching at your mouth whenever you landed a tumbling pass, ponytail flipping, how he trailed close when you walked on railings by the road on the way home, how his breath hitched when you dismounted with an aerial walkover as if a car didn’t zoom past you at one hundred miles per hour, looking back at him and shooting him a cocky grin, how you were always confident and invested in a single thing, laser-focused on your passion.

The hardest thing in cheer was not the tumbling passes, or the pyramids, or the hours or the gruelling practices, the injuries or the rivalries. It was the smile hiding the lactic acid building in the muscles, it was the spring in the step on hardwood floor, the unfailing cheerfulness.

“Why do you like it?”

He’d asked one day, at the end of cheer practice, which for once had overrun basketball—they needed to prepare for regionals, especially with Shutoku’s squad firing on all cylinders on the circuit this year.

“I’m part of something,” you’d said. “I’m part of something and I don’t have to look at myself.”

After a moment, you’d asked:

“Why do you like basketball?”

He’d paused to really think about it for a minute, and realized he’d finally settled on an answer long ago. He just had to acknowledge it.

“I’m part of a team.”

************************************************************************

Highschool saw you fall into a tentative, sincere routine that was an attempt at going back to the way things were.

(When will you both admit things changed? You were waiting to see who would break first.)

You walked to and from school together. Ease came back as you stopped awkwardly greeting each other, picking up the conversation where you’d last left off without missing a beat, like before. It felt safe, comfortable.

You came to Kise’s games with a spring in your step, happy to see him interact with his teammates, happy to see that Kaijō was free of the currents of tension that had plagued Teikō’s last days.

You went back to your favourite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, sharing food the way you used to. Everything clicked gradually back into place like synchronizing heartbeats, and even though you knew things would never be the same again, you did your best to make up for what happened, and he did too.

Maybe this was your way of apologizing. Maybe it was his, too.

“I think I need a new lock screen photo,” Kise said one day, gauging your reaction.

“Yeah, I think you do,” you answered.

You grinned at each other.

Things always looked up eventually.

************************************************************************

One second you were soaring in the air under the blinding lights of the stadium, so high, high, high up you could have sworn you touched the rafters, your whole body tight and arms crossed on your chest as you completed your flip, heart rattling against your ribcage partly because of the booming music and partly because of the sheer excitement you’d been feeling.

The next second, your head was meeting the unforgiving, hardwood, polished floor of the court, your squadmates desperately scrambling for you, painted nails scratching at your arms, thighs and waist, clutching and leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin, and as you were propped upright, you felt sticky hot blood coating your forehead and hairline, and you blurted out: "Oh, that's not good."

The good side of things was that you didn't really feel the pain, since you were living an out-of-body experience. It had started when your squad got on the court, as always, your body slipping out of your mind's control to execute the choreography, the tumbling passes and pyramid beats, and even your injury couldn't jolt you back to reality. Adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, and the hallway was swirling a little. One of your squadmates was standing guard near the bench you sat on, trying not to lie down, and your coach had called an ambulance. You had started debating internally whether falling asleep and risking not waking up was worth it or not when you caught a blue and yellow blur at the periphery of your vision.

A split second later, two strong, callused hands softly cupped your cheeks and you tried to focus on the two worried brown eyes staring at you. It took three long seconds for you to piece it back together—pretty in blue, perfectly winged eyeliner and the hand that held your own when he  dragged you from mall to mall—your best friend was here.

You smiled brightly, though you weren't sure if your numbing body had followed the motion since Kise's brows furrowed further.

"Ryōta!" you chimed, your own voice sounding far away. "Is the match over?"

"It's still half-time. They're cleaning your blood off the court."

"Oh," you muttered, nodding in understanding, the movement sending pain flaring through your nerves, kind of bumped out Kise hadn't won yet, because then you would have headed out for celebratory drinks, and you knew you had to talk to him about something, but what? You were sure you had planned to talk…

You heard Kise calling out your name, and the edge of panic to his voice made you realise you’d been zoning out.

"Are you okay?"

As you tried to focus on his gaze and the feeling of his fingers on your cheeks, you caught sight of your squadmate beckoning your coach over.

"I'm perfectly fine," you beamed as you started falling over, the siren of the ambulance blaring painfully in your brain even from behind the stadium glass gates, blue and red lights flashing on your face, and your vision went black.

************************************************************************

Kise could barely focus on the rest of the match.

Of course, it didn't mean he threw it. He blazed across the court in his usual, miracle-curb-stomping-mortals fashion, but he was off, half out of it. Even though the team they were facing was nowhere near a threat to Kaijō, he knew Kasamatsu wouldn't have hesitated to drop kick him into next year were it not for the too-shiny spot near the half court line where you bled out. Okay, maybe there was no need to be dramatic about it but you'd been whisked away by an ambulance and even the cheer coach, who didn't blink at splintered shins and broken arms, had looked worried. Head injuries could be lethal in this sport. You weren't paralyzed or anything, but he remembered the dried blood near your hairline and your unfocused eyes, glazed over with pain and what was probably the beginning of a concussion.

After the game, he put his clothes back on in autopilot mode, wordlessly letting know Coach Takeuchi he was going straight to the hospital and not getting on the team bus.

The receptionist looked at him with downright unwarranted distrust when he told her he was waiting for you, and that you’d suffered a head injury.

“Let me guess: she fell down the stairs?”

Kise didn’t even know what to say to that, mind coming up blank with worry, and so simply went to sit between a sniffling child and a man who seemed fine despite the axe planted in his head. He belatedly remembered to text his manager he was not coming to the shoot after all.

His chest deflated with relief when he saw your coach step back out in the waiting room, with you right behind her, bandages hiding under your bangs. He sprung up, ignoring the eyes of the receptionist burning holes in his back, and waited until your coach had left you near your house before talking to you. The blood trickling from your forehead where you’d split skin had been spectacular but harmless, as you’d only suffered from a little head trauma. The hematoma would disappear in three weeks all on its own. His throat felt choked up with relief and all the unnamed emotions he’d let simmer during all those years.

You arrived in front of your apartment complex, street lights falling on the street walk, splashes of light on the dark pavement. Silence blanketed you while you were trying to muster the courage to talk.

At the same time, you both said:

“I’m sorry.”

Kise blinked. Sorry? About what? What even—why couldn’t he even apologize properly—

“I wasn’t there for you,” you said, feeling your eyelashes brush against your bandages. “I should have tried to help you instead of watching it happen.”

“What—no, no! I—”

Come on, get your shit together, Ryōta.

“I was avoiding you,” he finally admitted. “Because… I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

You were stunned into silence, coming to a halt before the steps leading to the entrance of the apartment complex. For a second, you convinced yourself you’d misheard. That you’d actually suffered a concussion and were hallucinating this whole part. That this wasn’t happening.

“It’s not because I don’t like you!” He scrambled to save the throw, trying to get all his thoughts out faster upon seeing the way you’d reacted. “It’s because I like you…too much.”

Kise bit on his tongue. He was messing this up. He was messing this up so badly. He felt so stupid, where was his casual flirtiness when he needed it, you would never talk to him again—

You silently hugged him tight, something you hadn’t done since middle school, and the air flew out of his lungs like you’d just punched him.

Humiliating tears pricked his eyes and he closed his arms around you, burying his nose in your hair, your game-day shampoo’s scent wrapping around him, and he found the strength to say, so quietly you could have not heard it: “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Stupid, stupid you to worry about him when you literally split your head open. But it was true, wasn’t it? He didn’t need to be dragged to practice, you’d timidly gone back to hanging out together more often, and he found that he actually liked those Kaijō lunatics (though he still did not appreciate Kasamatsu’s cage fight skills).

“See you tomorrow?”

Kise reluctantly let you out of his arms, and nodded, heart swelling with relief. Relief, relief, relief. You still wanted to talk to him.

“See you tomorrow.”

You turned, but halted, one foot still lifted over the first step. Did your heart hurt? Did he need to call your parents? His hand went fishing for his phone in his pocket, set on dialling your mom’s number, but he went still when you turned again and took one step closer to him, your hand gripping his jacket, and he mindlessly bent down, eyes widening as you got closer and closer until your lips pressed against his.

Every coherent thought disappeared as his brain turned to mush, and he let out an undignified noise as your tongue anxiously, timidly slipped into his mouth. He’d become the embodiment of non-resistance, hands cupping your face as a wave of heat washed over him.

Then, as quickly as you’d started, you stopped and took a step back.

Kise distantly thought he was probably as red as Kagami’s hair, brain rewiring to produce full sentences again.

“See you tomorrow,” you said, with finality this time, smiling softly.

He nodded, watching you go inside.

He’d see you tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[erikahenningsen]

42 rejanis 💖

40. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

42. “I swear it was an accident.”

Janis never thought she'd receive a personal invitation to one of Gretchen Wieners's parties. She also never imagined that Gretchen would be dancing intimately with Kevin Ganatra at said party, but times have changed.

She spots Damian across the room, standing with Cady and Karen, who is telling a story that seemingly requires a lot of wild arm gestures, and starts to make her way through Gretchen's ridiculously large but still crowded living room.

Janis is halfway across the room when a lukewarm liquid splashes across her left side, soaking her shirt and the side of her face. The people around her jump away. She lets out what can only be described as a squawk and turns to see Regina, one hand holding an empty plastic cup and the other covering her mouth.

"What the fuck, Regina?" Janis growls.

"I'm so sorry," Regina says breathlessly. "I tripped."

"A likely story," Janis says, her shirt sticking to her uncomfortably, and she doesn't even want to know what her eyeliner must look like right now.

"No, I swear it was an accident," Regina says. She actually looks upset. "I'm sorry, really."

Janis deflates. Profuse apologies really aren't Regina's style if this was deliberate. "Okay, I believe you."

"Here." Regina starts to reach for Janis's hand, then stops abruptly. "Come upstairs. We can borrow a clean shirt from Gretchen. She won't mind."

Janis really doesn't want to spend the rest of her night feeling sticky and smelling like beer, so she follows Regina up the large staircase at the center of Gretchen's house.

Janis hasn't been in Gretchen's room in years, but it still looks relatively unchanged, the same canopied bed with its pink bedspread and enormous mirrored vanity. Regina starts digging through a drawer.

"No pink," Janis warns.

Regina pulls out a royal blue and yellow North Shore gymnastics t-shirt, and Janis remembers that Gretchen was on the team their freshman year and wonders why she quit.

"Go lions?" Regina asks, holding up the shirt, smiling a little.

"No thanks." Janis laughs a little.

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” Regina asks, her expression a little playful. Janis can't remember the last time Regina looked at her like that.

"Shut up and give me a normal shirt," Janis says, but she smiles a little again so Regina knows she isn't mad.

Regina pulls out a black t-shirt with some kind of flower on the front. "Acceptable?"

"Sure, whatever." Janis catches the shirt when Regina tosses it to her and yanks her wet t-shirt over her head without a second thought.

It isn't until she finishes pulling the shirt down that she notices Regina staring at her. And... is she blushing?

"You good?" Janis asks.

Regina snaps out of... whatever that was. "Yep. Fine. Great." She gestures to the vanity. "Makeup wipes and the entirety of Sephora are over there if you want to fix your makeup," she says.

Then Regina practically runs out of the room leaving Janis to stare at the closed door, a little stunned.

[opticfile]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲

—✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 // in which alfred is a truck driver and you're his favorite stop

✧ i loooooove writing for alfred i love love love it hes my favorite to write for probably

—✦ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 // Alfred F Jones (APH America)

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // swearing, reader is hit on by unwanted college boy, fluff, gn!reader

A few things help Alfred get through his days and nights. One is some music, another is phone calls with his buddies. Whatever it is, he just needs something to fill the dull air as he drives endlessly from one place to another. Singing along to a Gwen Stefani song (probably one from her No Doubt era) or dancing in his seat at red lights always helps keep his mood high. Waving to little kids in their mom’s backseats when they look up at him in awe and wonder is always nice, too, it makes him feel like more than just a truck driver, it’s like he’s Superman and flying over the city after saving the day.

But truth be told though, he’d have a hard time staying awake behind the wheel on especially hard days without his coffee. This man doesn’t exactly have the healthiest diet, especially not while driving, his passenger's seat is always full of fast-food bags and his cup holder always has soda or an energy drink lingering in it. Coffee, however, helps him start his day off right. It’s a tasty, warm energizer early in the morning when his eyes are still adjusting and his brain still isnt awake.

Yet the only thing that can get his day off to a good start better than coffee is you.

You’re a sweet college student, probably close to graduating, maybe a four-year degree, he thinks. You work at a cafe he frequents as often as he can, as long as he’s in the area it's his number one choice for his morning coffee and bagels. Half of it is because he really likes the coffee, the rest is because he likes seeing you.

You’re way too kind for someone working the early morning opening shift. You always smile at him and banter with him, no matter how clearly exhausted you are. And he’s way too cheery for a guy who wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive a big ass truck around all day, so you guys have that one in common. You have a lot in common. Maybe you guys have matching eyebags, he thinks, or your voices are equally as groggy. 

But you always smile when he comes in, he's a regular at this point, the kind of regular who doesn't even need to order because the barista knows what he's getting. You always draw a little heart next to his name on his cup, sometimes lately you’ve been writing Alfie instead of Alfred, too. That one will never cease to make his heart stutter. You know exactly how much cream cheese he likes on his bagels, you know exactly how much cream to put in his coffee, and yeah maybe that's just because you’ve made the same order for him a gazillion times but he likes to think of it as something more intimate than it is. 

One time you complimented his hoodie, it had a little alien head embroidered over his heart, and “I come in peace!” was written over his back. You noticed it, you mentioned it, you complimented it, and he broke out into a grin.

“Really? I think it's great, too.” He said triumphantly. “My brother said it was corny, but you should see some of the shit he wears.”

“Corny? Maybe. Cute? Definitely.” You giggled, writing his name on a large cup. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you know.” He winked playfully, leaning on the counter and watching you as you made his drink. He’s seen you do it a thousand times, he never gets over how efficient you are.

“I said it was cute!” You said, defensively, a coy glint in your eyes. “But I can’t exactly lie to you, either.”

He laughed joyfully.

The first time Alfred saw you he thought you were cute, the second time he thought your haircut was cool. Now when he sees you it's like a puppy seeing his owner after they’ve been at work all day. He gets happy, his stomach does backflips like an Olympic gymnast, and he can’t stop smiling.

Most of the time it's just you, him, and one or two of your coworkers. Not many customers pop in so early—shocker, right?—so he gets to enjoy chatting with you until his coffee is ready before he has to set off on the road. 

Sometimes there’s another person in the cafe though, sometimes two. One time that other person was clearly a college guy, one who had no business being here this early, one that should be hungover and passed out on his frat house’s deck instead of leaning over the counter and trying to flirt with you.

That was probably the first time Alfred realized you weren’t just his barista friend, but his barista crush. What tipped him off? The fact he wanted to grab the guy by his collar and carry him out of the building like a mama cat carrying its kitten by the scruff of its neck.

He didn’t, by the way, he wouldn’t do that unless you asked him to.

Instead, he just grit his teeth as he waited in line behind the guy, listening as he dragged out the ordering process to drop some lame pickup line that made his skin crawl—and yours too, judging by the awkward smile on your face and the forced laugh you humored him with. Alfred definitely wanted to groan out loud at that point. When the guy finally got the hint and left, Al walked up to the counter with a smile, and your shoulders relaxed and you sighed. 

“Long time, no see, partner.” You smiled tiredly up at him. 

It had been a long time, maybe a week or two, and he realized he missed you all that time, too. 

“Yeah, it’s great to be back in town.” He tipped his ballcap like he was tipping a cowboy hat, a dumb grin on his face. He didn’t have to place his order, you knew already.

You giggled softly at that. Was it just him or were you more exhausted than usual? Maybe the weirdo hitting on you drained your social battery or something, maybe it was finals week or something. 

“Great to have you back, I missed my favorite regular.” 

“Aw, you tellin’ me you have other regulars?” He clutched his pears in faux shock, acting hurt for dramatic effect. Somewhere to your left, your coworker snorted.

“Maybe, but none of them are as cool as you.” You grinned. “And none of them have such easy orders, either.”

“I’m a simple man, what can I say.” 

When you handed him his coffee and bagel, your fingers brushed his, and he felt a tingle go down his arm for a split second. Then you winked, and he felt one in his heart.

To say you felt any different than him would be a lie.

Alfred was definitely your favorite regular, that was no joke when you said it to him no matter how playful your tone was. He was always sweet and respectful and always cheered you up when you were barely dragging yourself through your shift.

The first time he came in you thought he was hot, the second time he came in you thought he was funny, and now when he comes in you feel a breath of fresh air cut through the coffee-scented air and your heart speeds up momentarily at his smile.

His smile always got to you. It was so attractive, he had such nice straight teeth and his lips framed them perfectly. It felt like a beautiful oil painting framed in gold or something. What came out of those lips was no different, his voice was always pleasing to the ears, and sometimes he came in sounding like he just rolled out of bed, and that was also pleasing. 

Alfred’s presence was the best part of your week, everything else sucked if you were being honest. Your coworkers made it really hard to feel positive when they were so bitter because they had to do the job they applied for. Your patience was thinning every day, and honestly when that guy from one of your classes showed up you felt like quitting then and there. Thankfully he never came back, if he did you probably would’ve thrown down your apron as soon as he entered. 

As much as you hate to say it, Alfred alone wasn't enough for you to want to keep the job. So you turned in your two weeks, you found a new job—one much more impressive than “barista”—and you counted the days until you were free from your coffee-stained shackles.

The last week of your job you didn’t see Alfred once, and you were starting to get anxious that you wouldn’t see him again. Maybe you could get one of your lazy coworkers to give him your number, or you could show up every morning until he was there. 

(that was in no way plausible, you barely even wanted to show up now and you work there)

But, to your relief, on your last day, Alfred popped through the window. His blue eyes shone through his glasses, his blonde hair was a mess, and he was wearing a hoodie with his iconic bomber jacket over it. He looked warm, he looked good. He grinned widely at you, shooting you finger-guns as he approached the counter.

“If it isn’t my favorite barista!” 

“And my favorite customer returns! I was getting worried, you know.” You smiled back, grabbing a cup for his drink.

“Aw, I always come back to this place! If you didn’t see me today, you’d see me tomorrow or next week or something.” He promised.

“I actually wouldn’t.” You said, “Because I wouldn’t be here.”

Alfred paused, “What’d’ya mean?”

“It’s my last day.” You smiled, glancing back up to him momentarily and catching the way his lips tugged down slightly.

“Like… forever?” He asked.

“Yup, I got myself a shiny new job.” You boasted.

“So I won’t get my morning coffee from you anymore?” He leaned on the counter, his voice seemed disappointed.

“Uh,” You pulled your eyes away from the coffee machine to meet his, “Yeah. Not anymore.”

He nodded slowly, “I won’t get to see you again, then?”

You chuckled to yourself, “Of course you will, silly.”

“I will?”

“Yeah, did you think I would part ways with you without giving you my number or something?” You grinned.

Slowly, he did too. His eyes twinkled and his chest shook in laughter. “I’d sure hope not.”

You smiled, face warming a little as he stared at you intently. This time, when you handed him his coffee and bagel your number was written beneath his name. 

“So, your number-?”

“It’s on the cup.” You noted.

“Got it. Yeah. I’ll- I’ll call you.” He grinned, walking backward for a moment before ripping his eyes away from your face and walking out the door feeling like a giddy teenage girl.

Today his day got off to an amazing start. Coffee always helped with that, but you? You always made it ten times better.

✧ navigation.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

dad!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [839 words]

Saturday at noon was Steve’s favourite time of day, even when he was working. More often than not, especially when he was working. ‘Cause he got to wait behind the desk of Family Video, anticipating the ding of the bell. 

And when it rang out, a little too shrill, he’d beam when you appeared, eyes already searching for him through the glass, one hand pushing the door and the other cradling your stomach. 

He’d light up like he’d just come alive, like the whole day had been grey before you’d arrived. You were growing more and more pregnant by the hour, it seemed, tummy rounding, six months in and it was true what everyone said, you were glowing. 

You’d protest when Steve told you as such, waving off his sweet intentions with a reminder of how your ankles were swollen, how the smell of most foods made you gag and your mood could go from easy going to downright monstrous in less than six seconds. 

Steve would simply shrug and tell you you looked beautiful anyway. 

Today was no different, especially when you slid a Tupperware box full of fresh pasta in front of him, a brownie slice wrapped in tinfoil on top. 

“You’re an angel,” he told you in greeting, moving out from behind the counter to lean down for you, hands on your little bump as he kissed you. “Far too good to me.”

You hummed, a soft smile on your lips. You looked tired, eyes heavy and you felt tired, back protesting at the extra weight, legs sore from the slight waddle you’d started to adopt. 

“I’ll remember that when I want something,” you joked, leaning into the boy, letting him rub at your back. 

Steve scoffed lightly, mouth pressed to your hairline as you hummed at his touch. “You say that like I wouldn’t give you anything you wanted.”

“You’re soft, Harrington,” you told him but you were delighted with his words, head tilting back up to him for another kiss that he gave you eagerly. 

“For you? Damn right,” Steve replied but his brows creased as he took in your scrunched features, lips twisting as you tried to keep the smile from sliding off your face. “S’wrong, babe? Sore?”

You gave in and nodded, face pressed to Steve’s neck to hide the way you winced but the baby was doing a full gymnastics routine against your rib cage. 

Robin appeared as Steve was coaxing you to lean against him more, your back to his chest so he could tuck his hands under your bump and gently lift, taking some of the weight off of your back. You sighed and let your head tip back against him, nose pressed into his throat in thanks. 

It was entirely too intimate for such a setting but Robin refrained from teasing, seeing the relief on your face as she stacked some tapes by the till. 

“It’s the mothership,” she said in greeting, smiling fondly when you rolled your eyes and waved. 

“Rough day?” She asked and you didn’t get a chance to reply as a small, elderly woman was shuffling her way towards the desk. 

She handed over some tapes and greeted Robin with a smile, turning to gaze at you over the rim of her glasses before she spotted the boy behind you. 

“Oh, Steven!” She smiled, hands clasped together as she took both of you in, the boy’s hands still cradling your bump. “Is this your lovely wife I’m always hearing about?”

Steve laughed and you could tell by the sound that his cheeks were pink. You lifted your hand to flash the small diamond there, shiny and delicate as Steve explained:

“Uh, almost, Mrs Levy,” he rubbed your stomach affectionately. “We were ready to book the venue when this happened. You know how it is, she just couldn’t keep her hands off me.” He grinned wide, all flirt and charm. 

“Steve,” you elbowed him in the stomach and Robin snorted, both of you aware of how the seventy odd year old woman’s eyes widened slightly behind her glasses. 

Mrs Levy took her videos and change from Robin and she headed towards the door, leaving you all to wonder what kind of complaint Keith was going to receive over the phone in the morning. But the old woman stopped just before you, patting at your hand and nodding solemnly. 

She gave Steve a quick glance, a once over with sharp eyes that left him straightening up a little. 

“I’d have struggled too, my dear,” she agreed, “all the best now for when the baby arrives!”

And then she was gone, door bell ringing, Robin wheezing and your lips parted in shock. 

You turned to Steve, trying your best not to laugh at his bewildered expression, his pink tinged cheeks and wide eyes. 

“Is there something you have to tell me?” You teased, pressing your lips together to contain your smirk. Steve wasn’t sure if he was supposed to look aghast or wildly smug. “Mrs Levy, huh?”

[hitomisuzuya]

Ooo ooo! I just got an idea that I can’t stop thinking about! What about Wanderer / Scara x Reader who’s shorter than him.

Like- imagine.

His ego would be fired up, occasionally teasing her about her height, and in bed he manhandles her to make sure she knows her place 😩

- ✨ anon <3

Hello, my lovely❤️ I really wanted to write something little. I am shorter than Scara, since he is like Five four and I..I am five two lol I have no shame in admitting that. I really wanted to have some fun with this purely just for me lol I hope it helps you think to write something like this. I hope you enjoy. Now here's the pitch ❤️

Scaramouche x fem!reader who is shorter than he is. Some smut just because.

The fact that you were shorter than he was was a total ego boost for Scaramouche. It was the first thing he noticed about you. He didn't even feel annoyed that Childe has gotten to talk to you first. He was transfixed on how Childe towered over you. You had to crane your head up to look at him when you introduced yourself.

Okay, now you were smiling. Imagine how startled he was when he thought 'I wish you stop smiling at him like that. It's annoying."

Let's call him prone to quick infatuation. Don't hold it against him, he'd always been very observant on how people behaved. Plus, you were shorter than him. He would never confuse infatuation with love like stupid humans would. He didn't. He knew the difference. He hated that he did.

You were the first person aside from children to be smaller than him. You certainly wouldn't blame him for being a little in love at first sight.

Scaramouche would struggle with the fact that he started looking for ways to suck up your time and attention. He told you and himself it was because you were lazy (you weren't, you were hard working) and it was a pain in the ass for him to have always watch you so you don't mess up. (You rarely ever messed up)

This man's mental gymnastics were Olympic Gold Medalist level.

Oh and he quickly started hating it, not only because he was falling you more and more as weeks turned into months, but his eyebrows always twitched in irritation when you paid attention to an animal more than him.

Occasionally, he really enjoyed teasing you about your height. He would always reply with a snide comment of course.

"Oh, it's gonna rain today," you said, sniffing the air quietly.

"Well, when it does, you'll be the last to know. And quit that, you sound weird (cute)."

He loved to put his hat on your head at random, just to bat it off your head a short awhile later, scoffing when he said that he couldn't see you anymore under his hat.

He would always smirk when he said these things.

It took him almost two years to accept the fact that he was in love with you. He felt almost complete the instant he finally put his hands on you intimately.

In bed, he would egg you on so you would moan louder for him or so you would dig your fingernails further into his skin, using your height to do it. He would sometimes glare you at you the whole time he was fucking you. When he has these fits, he borders on manhandling you. You loved that.

"You know, it's like your height dictates that you submit so easily to me. (He loved you were like that) I know you aren't meek and mild, now scream for me, slut. I'll always make sure you know your place."

All and all, your height was at the top of the list of what he loved about you.

a/n: help omg I'm sorry. I got carried away and this turned out longer than I thought it would..