#looks at my roster: you will be added to soon

[chronosbled]

{ Not me only just now remembering that I was gonna add Tamaki Amajiki, Nejire Hado, and Eri to my muse roster. Part of me also wants to add Dabi, Tomura Shigaraki (back to the roster) and Geten as well, but I’m not that confident with them so I’ll probably toss them onto the maybe area of the pinned post. }

[lushrue]

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 3

thank you all a million times over for all your love on this series! comment to be added to the taglist and send some asks my way if you have a scenario that you wanna see these characters in, i eat it up!!

cw: drinking

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

price stood at the center of the face-off circle, his stick resting on his knees as he sized up his opponent. it was the third period and the score was tied 2-2. price’s team was on the power play after the visiting team had received a two minute minor for slashing. figured, he thought. they’d been playing dirty all night; the ref just finally saw fit to call them on it. it was two minutes where they had the upper hand, two minutes to take advantage of their strength in numbers. he adjusted his stick in his grip, looking over his shoulder to make sure gaz and soap were in position before turning his attention back to the face off. he inhaled, and on the exhale, the sound of rubber smacking the ice hit his ears.

price gained control, taking the puck down the ice into the opposing team’s zone. he glanced to his left, meeting soap’s eyes before making a pass. soap received it, the puck smacking off his stick as he took up position on his side of the ice. a defenseman skated towards him, poised to try for a steal. but soap was ready. he made quick eye contact with gaz, sending the puck sliding his way. gaz took advantage of the fact that no one was on his ass, taking it and skating ever closer to the opposing goal. price was lined up, ready to go. it was the perfect position for a slapshot straight over the goal line. the goalie wasn’t watching his right flank, still preoccupied with gaz skating towards him. perfect. gaz made the pass, simon smacked the opposing defenseman into the boards to stop his approach, and price swung. the puck slid over the line before the goalie even knew what happened, setting the buzzer blaring.

through it all, you were watching in the stands. their coordination on the ice was enough to show you why they were first line, why laswell trusted them more than anyone else to get the game started on the right foot and to end it just as smoothly. you were one of the first on your feet after the goal, shouting and clapping. soap skated past price, giving him a congratulatory knock on the helmet as gaz held up his glove for a fist bump. simon gave price a thump on the back, skating behind him as they returned to the bench. “good shot, cap,” he shouted over the music, stepping off the ice as the second line stepped in to relieve them.

you smiled and waved as soap turned to meet your eyes. you’d taken to sitting right behind the bench, making your presence known to them rather than blending into the crowd like you’d done before. soap winked before nudging kyle, who tapped simon’s helmet, who elbowed price. soon, all four sets of eyes were on you. you blushed under the weight of their collective gazes, but managed to collect yourself enough to give them two thumbs up. price chuckled, nodding his head in thanks at your gesture. soap tugged his helmet off, the sweat making the longer strands of his mohawk stick to his forehead. “come out with us after tha game!” he called, his voice slightly muffled by the plexiglass. you didn’t even hesitate. “yeah, ‘course i will!”

…

it was a handy victory after that, simon managing to eke out a goal of his own before the game was over. this win would move them up in the league rankings, signal to everyone else that they’re a force to be reckoned with. with an ever-rotating roster of fresh blood, rebuilding years were bound to happen. but now they were on the rebound, and it felt better than any vice they indulged in. 

that wasn’t going to stop them tonight, though. the four of them stepped out of the locker room to find you waiting, your coat draped over your arms. your eyes were glued on your phone, a familiar crutch to pass the time. the moment you heard soap and gaz’s jovial chatter, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of your victorious men. you flashed them a smile and a little wave, closing the distance between all of you. “that was a really good game tonight,” you said sincerely, your eyes flicking between the four of them. it wasn’t just a win for one of them, it was a win for all of them. you wanted to make sure they all felt properly congratulated.

“thanks, dove,” price replied, a smile of his own threatening to show through. usually, his mind was racing with thoughts of how they could improve, what they could’ve done better. but not tonight. tonight was for celebrating, and he wasn’t going to let his overactive mind get in the way of that. gaz chimed in, putting his hand on price’s shoulder. “well, it helped havin’ our good luck charm in the stands. didn’t it, cap?” his pointed glance settled on you as price chuckled, your cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. their good luck charm. how about that? “good point, kyle,” price said. the weight of their eyes boring into you threatened to overwhelm you, like the tide overtaking the shore.

thankfully, johnny’s scottish brogue broke the tension. “did’ja see my assist in the second period, bonnie?” he asked, shouldering past gaz to be closer to you. you couldn’t help but laugh a little, nodding at him as you clutched your coat a little closer to your body. “yeah, i did,” you reply. you also hadn’t missed the way he skated with more gusto after that, knowing that you’d seen him. “it was impressive. you all work so well together out there.” simon finally made his presence known, shifting on his feet beside price. “yeah, we’ve worked really hard to get ourselves there,” he said, sounding proud of the progress they'd made as a team. you notice kyle and johnny exchange a glance, but you can’t quite read it. there’s something there under the surface, something that goes beyond the game.

before you can spare it a second thought, price places his hand on your shoulder, guiding you out the doors of the ice rink. “c’mon, dove. we’ll take my truck.”

…

it’s around your third mixed drink that you start to get a little more comfortable.

they’ve paid for the last two rounds for you, indulging whatever fruity concoction you find yourself craving. they took you to the one good bar for miles where the air was free of stale cigarette smoke and depression. the five of them weren’t the rowdiest table by far, but they were holding their own. the boys carried on their own conversations in the background, chattering loudly about the game. as you sip at your vodka cranberry, your attention is on kyle’s phone screen as he swipes through pictures of his family. “and tha’s my brother, steven. he’s got a wife and kid. haven’t seen ‘im in a while, they live kinda far.” soap nudges him, causing his phone to nearly tumble into his pint of guinness. “don’ bore the poor lass,” he says, his words already starting to slur a little. johnny was drinking whiskey, which hit a little harder than the beers that his teammates were nursing. no wonder he was on his way to being three sheets to the wind.

you blush and shake your head, giving kyle a reassuring glance. “it’s not boring, i promise. i like getting to know you all. it’s what friends do, right?” friends. you hadn’t stopped to think about it before, but you supposed you’d fully entered friend territory with all of them. you’d come to watch them play multiple times now, and they’d come and watched you skate. not only that, they’d stayed for both your programs and stuck around when the final rankings were posted. mere acquaintances didn’t do that. 

your words seemed to strike some chord in each of them as the hum of their side conversations abruptly stopped. you caught price smirk over the rim of his glass as he took a swig of his drink, his posture confident with his shoulders back and chest forward. johnny looked at you like you’d hung the moon and stars just for him, but only for a moment. kyle’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, like he hadn’t expected you to perceive them as friends. and simon, as usual, was hard to read, but you were getting there. there was a tightness in his expression that spelled unease to you. you faltered, opening your mouth to backtrack before price waved a hand to cut you off.

“nah, the bird’s right, johnny. guess we should know some things about each other if we’re gonna be friends.” his smirk remained, his eyes now fixed on you. maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you could swear you saw a glint of hunger in his eyes. you swallowed, desperate to ignore the electric thrill that struck your core. “why don’t you start us off, love? we wanna know more ‘bout ya,” he said, leaning back against the booth seating and staring you down expectantly. you clear your throat and take another long drink from your glass. you’d need some liquid courage for all this.

“well, i’ve been skating since i was little. i’ve loved it for as long as i can remember.” the memories brought a smile to your face. you recalled sitting in front of the television set, cross-legged as you watched the figure skaters dance on the ice in your ballerina dress. your dad sat next to you, telling you that that could be you someday. you certainly hadn’t competed in any olympics, but you were proud of the level you’d achieved. johnny chuckled, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. it sent a bloom of warmth through you and your cheeks flushed crimson. “somethin’ besides the ice, bonnie,” he said playfully. “we wanna know you, not the skater.”

you composed yourself quickly after being startled at his touch, settling into the casual display of affection. glances were once again exchanged, but this time, it was price and simon. “umm…my favorite color’s green,” you said, looking between johnny and kyle for approval, to see if this was what they wanted. when you got a nod in reply, you decided to continue. you told them about your favorite foods, family vacations, the artists that were on heavy rotation in your car radio. they seemed to hang on your every word, letting the aura of you seep into their bones so they’d never forget it.

the more you drank, the more you talked. so price kept the drinks flowing.

…

kyle drove you home in price’s truck, your swaying body sandwiched between ghost and soap. johnny had an arm around your shoulders to keep you steady and simon had his hand on your arm for comfort. you’d been drunker in your life, but you certainly had a good thing going. all this contact from attractive men was only fueling the fire, butterflies stirring in your belly that weren’t born of alcohol. you muttered things you knew you wouldn't remember in the morning, something about how warm their bodies were and how good they looked in their pads and gear. they were gentlemen, of course. their touches remained innocent as they walked you to your door and made sure you got in safely, staying until they heard the lock click. they had to be satisfied that you were secure for the night.

as the four of them piled back in the truck and headed back down the road, it was simon who broke the silence first. “we gotta have her, yeah?” he said, his voice a rumble that harmonized with the engine. kyle and johnny didn’t respond, looking to their captain for a response. ultimately, he made the final call. price hummed, his head falling back against the headrest of the passenger seat.

“yeah, think we do.”

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Notes: So, this is my oopsy of adding another story to my roster, but oh well. Here's my other note: Just a little side note. To make this story work, I had to de-age the majority of the characters. So, Dick is 15, Cass 10, Jason 9, Tim 7, Duke 6, and Damian 4. Just FYI. Obvi The Nanny Inspired

Bruce Wayne x Reader, Batfamily, platonically, x reader

Summary: One day, after getting fired from your job by your ex, you somehow ended up in Wayne Manor as the family's new nanny. Working with six kids is tough enough, but the handsome, rich, and emotionally confused father, billionaire Bruce Wayne, who is just too charming makes it a bit more difficult as your feelings for him confuse you. Nonetheless, you love the job and the kids, but soon enough you realize that maybe you're falling in love with the boss, too.

Pilot Pt. 1

“You have to be kidding me, fired?” You said shocked, leaning over the counter.

Your boyfriend then quickly added, “And, I’m breaking up with you.” 

The words could not come off your lips. Instead, you babbled for a good thirty seconds before just turning on your heel to leave. You stopped a couple of times to say something, but the shock was still settling in. It wasn’t until you were outside, watching people on the street that your senses came back. Turning around, you sucked in a breath and threw open the store door.

You pointed at your ex and loudly announced, “You have a small dick, and I’m collecting unemployment! So, hah!” 

Not feeling the victory, but glad that there were more than a dozen people to continue the rumor of your boyfriend’s supposedly small penis, you left.

Luckily, you were quick to find another gig thanks to a family friend. Granted, you hated going door to door trying to sell insurance in Gotham, but it paid you just enough not to be out on the street. This week, however, you were assigned to the other end of the city—The rich part. And, it certainly did live up to your expectations. These people had yards and gardens, and the air even smelled better. If you could only find a rich man, you think you’d be very happy in such a place. 

You looked down at the list of addresses your boss had given you before looking back up at the impressive sight of the house. With a sigh, you pressed the buzzer on the gate and went over your script. 

“Hello, my name is…” 

Before you could finish a British accent came through the buzzer. “Are you here for the nanny position?”

Looking around, you didn’t see a reason as to why you shouldn’t say yes. Absent-mindedly, you said, “I could be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, um, yes! Yes, I am.” It couldn’t hurt 

Suddenly, another buzz and the sound was clicking of the gate unlocking. Cautiously, you pushed your way through and you headed up the path to the front door. It was a near quarter mile to get to the house and up a hill. By the time you got up to the front of the house, you were winded and slightly sweaty. At the top of the stairs stood an old man in a suit, looking down at you with indifference. Slowly, you climbed the stairs to him. 

“You really gotta warn a girl if she’s gonna take a hike,” You huffed. 

“Most people drive,” The old man said, and you recognized the accent from the buzzer. 

You snickered at the old man, following him in, and you were amazed by just how wonderful the place was. As you entered, you did a turn, and you were amazed by just how big the house—No, mansion—was. 

“Would you like me to present your resume to Mr. Wayne?” Asked the man. 

Luckily, you were quick on your feet, “No, I’ll do it myself. Thank you.”

The man relented, giving you a disbelieving look, and went away. You sat down in one of the chairs in the foyer, quickly pulling out some papers to write some type of passable resume. As you were going for a pen, you realized quickly that you didn’t have one. Panicked, you looked around for one. 

“Ugh,” A voice said, and a boy no older than seven or eight stumbled from a doorway. On him, fake blood and a knife. He cried, “I’m dying!” before collapsing onto the floor. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a pen, would you?” You asked, but the boy didn’t respond. Defeated, you decided quickly what you said as you saw the old man and a younger, much more handsome return. 

“Tim,” The younger man said. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t scare the guests.”

The boy opened his eyes, “I'm studying people's reactions to gore and pain.”

The man rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to you. He held out his hand toward you to shake, you took it and instantly liked the way his grip was strong. “I’m Bruce Wayne—”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve seen you on TV,” You said excitedly. “I loved the black suit you wore for that ceremony in the park last month.”

Mr. Wayne seemed taken aback by the compliment, but thank you anyway. “Just follow me into the kitchen. We can talk more there.” As he started to lead you away, he turned to the boy still lying on the floor. “Tim, go clean up, please.”

“I will, but only because you said please!” The boy cried out. 

Mr. Wayne shook his head and asked you not to mind him for now. Smiling, you replied that it was no big deal, kids were going to be kids either way. He seemed to agree with you on that and asked you more about yourself. You told him as much as you could think of, not willing or wanting to hold anything back. 

When you finally sat at the kitchen table did you stop talking to let Mr. Wayne talk, but he seemed more pleased to listen. Though, you knew better than to rattle on more than necessary. Maybe, you thought, this was why so many women thought him to be such a charming guy. 

“Can I see your resume, then?” He asked. 

Laughing nervously, you said, “Oh, uh, well, you see, I lost it on my way over here.”

“Is that right?” Mr. Wayne said, sounding like he didn’t entirely believe you. 

“Yes! Yes, it’s the damnedest thing,” You said. “I always seem to have these bouts of terrible luck.”

“Uh-huh,” He said. 

You were going to answer when a voice called out, “Dad!” 

Just then, two boys, one about fifteen and the other around ten, walked in. They seemed surprised to see you when they entered, glancing at their father before telling you hello. You got up, walking over to the boys and cupping their cheeks. 

“My, look how handsome!” You looked over your shoulder at Mr. Wayne. “And those pretty blue eyes! They must get them from you.”

“We’re adopted,” The younger one said. “And I’m Jason.”

You grinned and bent over to look at the boy. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…”

“You’re the new nanny?” The older boy said. 

You started to answer, but Mr. Wayne cut you off. He told the boy, named Richard, that he could be nicer to you. Richard, or Dick as he called himself unfortunately, protested that Bruce was shuffling his responsibilities on some random lady from the inner city. Bruce was quick to dismiss him to his room, stating that they would speak later, and immediately apologized to you. 

“A kid makes a smart-ass comment, what’re you gonna do?” You smiled. 

“Right,” Bruce cleared his throat, not paying attention to what you were saying. “Well, those two were the oldest boys, I have one girl between them. Then, it’s Tim, Duke, and Damian. My youngest is four.”

“Trying to build a basketball team, Mr. Wayne?” You couldn’t help, but laugh at your joke. He didn’t seem as amused by it, so you quickly went quiet. 

“Yes, well, thank you for coming, but I don’t think I’m in the mood to hire sales girls from off the street.”

You rolled your eyes, mumbling that you could do it and that you had plenty of experience in taking care of children as you babysat a lot when you were a teenager. Mr. Wayne didn’t seem to hear anything you said, though, nor the phone ringing off the hook. 

“Alfred! Will you get that,” He called, seeming a bit stressed. 

“Oh, you cannot be that rich not to answer your phone,” You said, getting up and picking up the phone from the receiver. Putting it to your ear, you answered, “Wayne residence.”

“Give me that,” Mr. Wayne said and snatched the phone from your hand. “Hello?”

He went back and forth with the person on the other line, talking about how he needed a nanny. Yet, he seemed to be getting nowhere. The entire time, you laid yourself in front of him as he tried to talk to the person on the other end to get him a nanny. After a minute or two, he put the receiver down and looked at you. 

You grinned, knowing that you got the job. “You’re hired—On a trial basis!”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wayne!” You threw yourself at him, squeezing him tight. “You won’t regret it.”

“Right,” Bruce cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have Alfred show you to your room—”

“I get to live here?” You asked excitedly. 

Bruce almost smiled, but held it back. “Yes. If you like.”

“If I like,” You laughed like he was joking. “Of course. Oh, it’s going to be great.”

Mr. Wayne nodded, acting like he believed you, but didn’t know for sure. He wondered if he made the right choice not only for his children but for himself as well. Since he only knew you for half an hour, he found himself being intrigued by you.

Despite this, how he felt didn’t matter. All that did matter was if the children liked you and if you were competent enough to look after them. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to fall in love with you. 

[princessbrunette]

how do you feel about flirting with aotc!anakin? whether it’s established relationship flirting or you’re just getting to know one another or whatever. i’m rly interested in seeing how you’d decide to write a younger (maybe more naive?) version of anakin. make it as dirty/smutty/suggestive as you want, i love anything you put out

(us acting like we weren’t giggling in dms about this 😝)

okay but yes.

flirting with him is so fun because… he’s a slut idc. i guess i understand when people wanna present him as some shy virgin but also like… did we even watch the same movie? aotc ani was bricked up for the entire 2hours and 22 minutes in this essay i will-

when you’re still friends — flirting with him is so much fun because he’s barely keeping it together. he shamelessly glances at your tits when you’re talking to him because how can he not? you’re practically begging for it with them pressed together like that, blinking up at him with faux innocent doe eyes. he’s already stiff before you’ve even been standing there for more than thirty seconds. he won’t shy away from telling you that, either.

the way you call him “ani” in that sweet breathy voice, reaching up to fix his short blonde hair. he knows your game. he stares down at you with that obscene smirk, shuffling a bit closer to you so he has a better view down your top. but soon enough, you’re pulling away slyly, putting an extra sway of the hips in your walk as you leave him to give him a show.

you have to constantly tell him to stop staring at you, because whenever you look at him he’s got this slight smile on his face — and not in the sweet romantic way, the sort of vacant and dark smile that says ‘I’m not focused on anything going on right now, because i’m imagining you creaming on my cock.’ aotc ani definitely dabbled in a fair share of holoporn, so he can get super creative with his daydreams.

maker forbid the conversation ever is lead down one of a sexual nature whilst you’re still friends — his curiosity causing him to prod and pry at your sex life, and brazenly offering to be added to your roster at a drop of a hat. “did your ex ever taste you?” he’s stepping into your space once more. you roll your eyes at his intrusiveness but shake your head anyway. “i would have. you should allow me. wouldn’t you like to see how it feels? i heard some girls compare it to heaven…” he gets impossibly closer like he’s going to kiss you but you break off the moment.

“what girls?” you frown jealously which only makes him grin boyishly and chuckle, stuttering over an explanation.

when the two of you finally end up together, you make him wait even longer to fuck you just because it’s fun — doing everything in your power to make him flustered. your favourite moment would have to be when you’d come to visit the temple for work purposes, running into anakin and his mentor obi wan. you’d been discussing something of a professional nature, ignoring the way anakin was eyefucking you as you spoke to his master. as soon as obi wan briefly leaves the room, leaving the two of you behind — you pounce, pouting and pushing yourself up against the flustered blonde.

“miss you ani, need you really bad.” you whimper quietly, being met with wide eyes and red cheeks. you take his strong, pretty hand and bring it to cup the shape of your cunt through your panties beneath your skirt. “m’so wet.” you watch ani take a jagged breath in, letting his fingers feel around for your soaked spot before you’re pulling back again, hearing obi wan returning. he gets so frustrated he has to excuse himself.

but that’s not the last you see of him that day, on your way out of the temple he ambushes you — hurrying you into a dark closet space with spare sparring mats and faulty saber hilts on shelves, lips finding purchase on your neck and his hands grabbing greedily at your ass.

“ani!”

“please— please let me fuck you.” he groans, pushing his hips against yours, hard cock pressing against your tummy. “cant you feel what you’ve done?”

“not here, in a dark closet. i would like it to be more romantic than that.” you speak between sloppy kisses, his hand coming up to gently hold your cheek still.

“well forgive me, but i don’t care too much for romance right now. you’re getting me way too excited.” he grips your waist.

“i care.” you turn your head, looking at him with a serious glint in your eyes when he pulls back. he sighs, rolling his eyes and steps back, nodding.

“very well then.” he frowns. you place your hands on his shoulders and stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

“ask obi wan for some time off, we’ll fly somewhere — can take our time. it’ll be worth it.” you smile and he exhales out his nose, nodding.

“alright alright. now don’t tease me anymore, it’s not nice.” he’s practically pouting and you giggle. it’s hard for his own smile not to break through too.

[nhlclover]

i can see you | jack hughes

summary: a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is becoming more and more difficult to keep hidden.

request: yes / no

warnings: semi-nsfw content, making out, implications of sex (i think?)

a/n: based on 'i can see you' by taylor swift. woah look at me posting!!! life got so busy recently so i am so sorry for not posting. thank you guys for the continuous support, it truly means the world. i might open requests again soon but i am balancing my summer job (camp counsellors 4 the win) so it might not be open for long. love you guys loads🩷 also I'm sorry i kinda hate this...

word count: 0.8k

Dawson and you walk into the reception area, taking in the sight of the entire Devil's roster dancing to Abba. You two step off to the side, grabbing glasses of wine from the bar and watching as your brother's teammates slightly embarrassed themselves. 

“Hey, man.” You hear his voice say. Looking to your right, he’s standing there, just feet away, in his new black Prada suit. The same suit you picked out as you spent 2 hours on the phone with Jack going over options. He looked chiselled in the suit which fit him in all the right places. You thanked his tailor in your head.

You never understood why your brother held off on introducing you to Jack. It took a couple of months before you were introduced to him at a game. Then you understood. Jack was the kind of guy you could easily become addicted to. His laugh, his humour, the way his eyes would make you feel like the only one in a room of hundreds.

“Wassup bud?” Your brother says, pulling Jack in for a hug. “You clean up nice. Your mom dress you tonight?”

“Not my mom, but I did have some help.” He chuckles. You know he’s talking about you but you don’t dare react to his comment.

The two of you were unsure how your brother would react to news of the two of you being... whatever you were. But suffice it to say you didn't think it would go well. To save both of you from being killed, you simply kept it a secret. Move fast and keep quiet.

“Oh don’t tell me someone was finally able to strap you down?” Dawson teases, clapping him on the shoulder.

Jack pushes Dawson's hand away giving him a playful shove. He turns to you, your breath catching as your eyes lock with one another. 

“How’re you, y/n?” He asks. 

“Uh just fine, thanks for asking.” You reply.

Brown Eyed Girl begins to play through the speakers and Dawson has already abandoned you in favour of Nico and Timo, who had both discarded their ties. 

“You look fantastic.” Jack says to you.

Your cheeks flush pink. Jack, loving his effect on you, flashes a delightful grin adding to the hue. “Thank you, Jack.”

He shoves a hand in his pants pocket, fishing around briefly before pulling out a small piece of paper. “Here.” Is all he says, pushing the scrap in your hand before walking back to the rest of the group.

You step off to the side, setting your wine glass down and unfolding the paper. Written in Jack's handwriting is ‘meet me @ midnight’. A small, uneven heart is drawn underneath. You smile to yourself, tucking the note into your handbag.

You join the rest of the wedding, spending the remaining hours thinking about Jack's note. The pair of you throw longing glances across the room to one another but don’t get close enough for more than a brush of knuckles. But that slight touch sent a rush of electricity from your hands to your feet. 

There are 5 minutes left till midnight when you excuse yourself from the still lively party, slipping down the hall of the country club that the bride and groom had chosen as their venue. Jack never told you where to meet him so you wander around, looking behind every door for the shaggy-haired boy. 

You had lost yourself within the corridors of the venue, having made a great many lefts and rights that you had lost track of. You keep walking until you finally spot a figure at the end of the hall staring out the window into the inky sky. 

The click of your heels makes Jack spin around. His necktie is loose around his collar, the top two buttons undone. 

“Hey.” You say softly.

“Holy shit.” Jack breathes out.

You stop in front of him, furrowing your eyebrows. “What?” You ask.

“You look fucking amazing.” 

Jack’s hands are on your hips as if being pulled to them by a magnetic force. He dips his head down, connecting your lips. He presses soft kisses to your lips, slowly trailing them down your jaw to your neck. Jack slips his arms from his suit jacket, throwing it to the floor.

His hands are back on hips as his lips are on yours. There’s a certain sense of hunger as you both know you don’t have much time. He walks you back, pressing you firmly between his firm body and the wall. Pinning a knee between your legs, he holds you up as his kiss weakens your knees. 

The pair of you are breathless when you break apart. His hair has fallen over his eyes, his lips a light scarlet colour. You reach up, brushing away his bangs. His lips hook to the left as he flashes a smirk. You pull him back in, feeling his lips smile against yours. 

The both of you are suddenly trying doorknobs, looking for an empty room. You finally slip into an empty dining room, you taking a seat on a table. His hands push up the skirt of your dress, the music from the wedding drowning out any noises the two of you made.

[phopollo]

Rubbing my hands together Aight guys I got some more cracks at what I think some StEx characters would look like as a cartoon for y'all

Again, heavy inspo from the 2024 London revival, but that's not the only one

Check out my crack at Rusty and Pearl over here too if you haven't already seen them

But now I've got enough characters solidly designed that I can do fake screenshots for a Stex cartoon too >:) so teehee, those'll probably be coming soon too Also hey!! Feel free to let me know if theres any particular character(s) you'd wanna see me take a crack at and cartoonify and be added to the roster for fake screenshots next! I'm very indecisive, and there's a lot of characters to get through,,,

[himbofan4444]

Excuse me sir, but I highly doubt your abilities. I'm one of the brightest minds in my tech company here in Silicon Valley have been doing exhausting work trying to convert mindless jocks into slender gay nerds like me. The most I can manage is making some brute nearsighted. But you're turning men into himbos? Hardly. Like anyone would dumb, meathead heterosexual? That's a fate worse than death in my book! I dare you to show me what you're made of.

You doubt my abilities? How come? Well, after reading your goals for the men of this world, I’m quite worried. You see, for the world to keep spinning and keep from collapsing, there must remain a fine balance of the dumb and the intelligent, the strong and the weak, the straight and the gay. You wish to disturb that balance as a way to vainly recruit more men into being lithe and gay. I’m very glad to hear you haven’t been successful.

So as for you, I don’t believe adding ONE more meathead to the planet’s roster would cause much issue, so that’s what you are going to become. Now I don’t want to give you too many of the objectively good traits, as you clearly have an ulterior motive, so I’m going to adapt you as I wish. Have fun!

I snap my fingers and all of your clothes vanish, your frail body on full display for me. Wow, this is gonna be a lot more work than I thought. I snap again and your muscles begin to swell to the size of a high school jock’s. Much better but ooh. You’re still a cocky little fuck so naturally you’re flexing your above average muscles, smirking obnoxiously. Let’s fix that. I snap again. Your face drops into a mindless expression and your arms fall to your side. A fog overtakes your thoughts, making any attempt to think a fruitless one. Speaking of fruit… I snap my fingers. Your microdick springs to life, hardly sticking out two inches from your body. Yikes that won’t do. Your dick slowly grows to be 6 inches, not small but not large either. Your dumb little brain sparks a thought, tits, pussies, curvy women bouncing on your cock. Your dick leaks like a broken faucet at the thought. And since they’ll likely be your only thought for a long time, it’s safe to say this leaking will never cease. I would say I’m sorry but I’m really not.

So you’re welcome, Earth. I have ridden the planet of a man trying to disturb the balance. Now the only thing he’ll be disturbing is disinterested women. Even this is no issue because his pea brain is so small he can’t even figure out how to actually use his strength, so he’s pretty much harmless. Let us rejoice! Another himbo added to my collection. I do hope for more variety soon. This lineup is looking quite similar.

[ashensgrotto]

Hey I was reading your yandere Azul fanfic for like the 50th time and I had this idea for a request:

Can you do the other overblot boys in similar situations?

Also when are we going to have Azul's redemption arc when we get trapped in Scariba?

Have a lovely day/night/morning/afternoon

Why, greetings my dear anon! I’m happy that you enjoyed the ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ to read it that many times - and I apologized that I haven’t been able to get started on the Scarbia segment yet (between that and Raison D’être plus work & other stories… and GloMas, I really need to get my priorities straight seriously -_-). However, I do intend on working on it as soon as I can so I can get it out sometime this month or in December - I mean, I think that would be the most logical since that one takes place during holiday break, right?

Now, for your request - I hope head cannons are alright for the time being. I’ll try to come back to them and do short stories for each of them that follows the same concept design as “Am I Feeling Love?” - which is the first installment of the Yandere!Azul series. I'm also going to divide this into two parts - about halfway through I realized I hadn't posted anything in a while and thus, I want to make it up to all of you for not writing or posting anything for some time.

Part 1 (Here) will feature Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, and Jamil Viper

Part 2 (Here) will feature Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, and Malleus Draconia

***

Riddle Rosehearts:

Yandere Riddle is more of the controlling type - that much is certain. While during his youth, he came across a story about ‘soulmates’ - and the idea of someone made for him took root like a weed in the rose garden. Although his mother ordered for him to dismiss the idea as nothing but a fairytale, Riddle could not push the idea away and it slowly became a source of comfort and drive - if he could stand out both in academics and athletics, surely his soulmate would recognize him as their other half. (There really was no way for him to search for his other half while trapped under his mother’s unwavering gaze, especially after the tart incident.) 

When he saw you in the mirror chamber for the first time many years later, he was awestruck by your grace and beauty, reminding him of how the queen of heart once was long ago… the problem was your impeccable timing. You had the worst sense of direction as well as time - quite literally to the point that he had to give you several (and I mean like five to ten) different watches to have on your person so you wouldn’t run late for your scheduled tea time and after school lessons with him (which he made a priority to keep an eye on your movements, especially with the way you hang around the ADuo).

He likes that you have a favorite tea flavor, but hates that you drink it. All. The. Time. (“There are other teas, you know?” he tells you softly, trying to reign in his urge to yell at you for drinking your tea when you should be drinking the green tea with honey that is required following a lesson with him.)

He recognizes you for your hard work - often watching you from the shadows when time permits as you paint the roses red, care for the hedgehogs, feed the flamingos in that pink attire he provided for you, and assist with the dorm’s random tea party celebrations. Riddle also enjoys your conversations - even though he would like it better if you opened your mouth and stopped speaking so quietly (“Look up, speak nicely. AND DON’T TWIDDLE YOUR FINGERS! Turn out your toes, curtsy, open your mouth a little wider and always say, ‘Yes, Housewarden Riddle.’" He’s constantly reminding you.)

The one thing he can not stand though: your friendship with Duece and Ace and the furball menace. He has added a new rule to the roster: ‘Rule #687: (Y/N) is to always be supervised by either Trey Clover or Cater Diamond when not in the presence of the housewarden.’ (It’s for your wellbeing, after all. Trey and Cater are much more reliable than those two annoying freshmen and fire-breathing direbeast.)

However, his real breaking point is when you side with Ace and Duece following the ‘collaring’. He wouldn’t have dreamed in a million years that you would’ve sided with them over him. He was only trying to look out for your best interests… the best interests of the dorm… He was supposed to be the one…

Leona Kingscholar:

Yandere Leona is more of the… dependent type. During his youth, one lazy afternoon, his older brother was talking to him about how he read in his studies about a certain smell that would allow him to know if his soulmate was nearby. Leona had at first shrugged it off, not really caring - after all, he wasn’t going to be king… why should he worry about finding the right one? He didn’t need annoying little brats running circles around him like his nephew did already… what a pain.

That changed the moment you entered the mirror chamber. Your scent wafted through the air and tickled Leona’s nose like a call of a hornbill to its mate. Leona could feel a need rising within him - a sudden need to protect and lay claim to you as his. And when the mirror turned you away, Ruggie was surprised when he stepped forward, offering a place to stay in Savanclaw.

It was no surprise to anyone that Leona decided to make you his personal gopher (although he knew that he couldn’t rely on you 24/7 as you weren’t allowed to attend the school - not that he cared much anyway for classes). During practice, you would bring water and snacks - the housewarden always scruffing the top of your head and messing your hair up, offering a cheeky grin that no one had seen before. In the dorm, you would sit with him and look over his homework and studies - Ruggie nearby to help you understand what was being taught, considering that this was something far beyond your understanding - especially since you had no magic ability either.

Speaking of which, Ruggie was the only other person - besides Leona - that was allowed to get close to you. Any other student that attempted to get within a foot of you would suffer under Leona’s frightening stare before choking on ‘King’s Roar’ until they begged for mercy when you weren’t around.

When the spelldrive tournament came up - and you unknowingly found out about the plan to hurt another student - you confronted Leona about it. Leona tried to play innocent - pretending not to know what you were talking about, Ruggie assisting with the typically ‘innocent until guilty’ look that he often gave you.

His last straw was when you and Jack warned the others of Savanaclaw's plan - the housewarden of Heartslabyul and his students effectively coming to your aid. Leona thought he could trust you… that you would respect him and love him as the king he was supposed to be…

Jamil Viper

Jamil is your typical stalker type - wanting to know about your every move, it’s ingrained in him after all. During his youth, he - along with the other servants of the Al-Asim home - would watch over the young masters as they grew up, one eye always on the lookout for danger that could befall the family. Kalim - as sweet and carefree as he was - would often spend time in Jamil’s presence, chewing his ear off with stories and such, Jamil often ignoring what he said or taking everything with a grain of salt. However - the story of the Scalding Sands princess and the thief never completely left his mind. Legends stated that the two were fated to be together - and the land had been prosperous during their reign. Jamil would often turn the story over in his mind a handful of times, but tsk at the idea of soulmates. It was only a fairy tale… right?

That changed the moment he saw you in the mirror chamber - your eyes wide by everything that was different and strange to you. If Jamil was honest, he thought back to the story of the desert princess and the thief right then and there - he imagined himself as the thief and you as the princess, and the longing that filled him had to be the same as it was for the thief when he had seen the princess’ beauty for the first time. It was easy to persuade Kalim to let you stay in Scarabia, using ‘Snake Whisper’ to charm him into allowing the headmaster for you to stay. Once within the safe confines of the dorm, Jamil offered for you to assist him with taking care of Kalim (“Trust me, my little desert flower,” he tells you, “things aren’t always as they seem. You will get what’s coming to you.”)

Speaking of which - like Azul’s pet name of ‘Angelfish,’ Jamil refers to you as ‘Desert Flower.’ When you asked why that was, Jamil would cough and say something about how you reminded him of the flowers back in the Scalding Sands - particularly the Desert Hyacinth (which is a parasitic plant, oddly enough).

Regardless, Jamil enjoys spending time with you - when not chasing Kalim around. In the evenings, when the dorm is asleep, he finds the evenings quite relaxing in your presence; playing Mancala on the carpeted flooring after having his feet rubbed in oil to alleviate the tension and pain from all the hard work he did. When he asks if there’s anything he can do for you in return, you simply smile and shake your head, explaining how you’re thankful for his kindness and generosity for keeping you company in the late evenings when you both know he should be getting rest.

However, as the holiday season approaches and the rest of the school heads home for the holidays, Jamil notices your disappearance one night - making him frantic to know where you had disappeared to. That fear turns into seething rage when you return with an octopus and two eels in tow - Jamil demanding to know what the meaning of this is. Out of the goodness of your heart, you explain that you sought help for him and Kalim - especially with Kalim’s strange mood swings making you more and more nervous with each passing day. The presence of the scheming octomer and his twin pals makes Jamil more on edge than ever - watching from the shadows as you and Kalim turn to your new allies. It would seem… desperate times call for desperate measures.

The look on your face when it’s revealed that he was the one behind the changes in Kalim’s behavior was enough to shatter Jamil’s heart into a thousand pieces - like a glass lamp crushed under the weight of stone. The fear… the anger… the resentment towards Kalim has become centerfold - but Jamil could never hate you… his little desert flower. If only he was headwarden… if he was in charge… none of this would have happened… it was all Kalim’s fault, after all…

[fanaticsnail]

Bar Shift: part 2

Barely proofread, but it's here! Finally I've pried out the first two parts of this little idea from my head. Part one is here: Part 1

Once within your room, you angrily threw off your casual dress clothes and began assembling your working attire. You opted to leave your hair down for your shift, wanting to showcase the amount of work you put into its presentation. Bar shift was more casual than the floor or behind the doors of the kitchen. It was known by the majority of the staff as the “party shift”, often being the one that brought in the most amount of berry to the till.

Searching your many clothes for work-appropriate bar attire, you stumbled upon something appropriate and began forming a cohesive arrangement. You sulked over to your vanity and brought out your collection of makeup and began applying it in a way that would last well into the night, adding dimension to your face with different natural tints and darkening your eyes to look more sultry under the bar lights.

Once slightly happy with your application and checking yourself once more in your room, you left to begin your shift on the bar. You hastened your step, switching fully into ‘work mode’ and checked in on the roster sheet – ensuring to harshly scribble out Cole’s name from the roster list and add your own at the bottom, noting the time down you started.

The beginning of your shift went smoothly, you made small talk with the regulars and introduced yourself to the newcomers while serving them with a flirtatious smile. As the sun began to lower itself onto the horizon, the dinner shift was in full swing; leaving the bar slightly barren.

“Hey, sweety,” you acknowledged your coworker, prompting her to turn to you, “I’m gonna go on break, ok? I’ll be back in about a halfa.” You tapped your hand on her shoulder and she nodded to you, returning to the task of sifting through the bar dishes and polishing the glasses before the night life began.

At this stage, you had been on your feet with no break for the past nine hours – only dipping out to go to the bathroom or retrieve something you needed from the kitchen. You passed the kitchen on the way to the staffroom, hearing an echo of: “Order up, table 103!” from Patty, prompting you to let out a laugh and shake your head in response. Table 103, being the non-existent table number that was often called from the pass when a pretty woman made their way over. Several members of the kitchen crew peaked their head up and snickered at you, prompting you to wave at them and continue on to take your break.

You passed Sanji, noticing he was wearing his waiter uniform and slicing up some complimentary bread close to the kitchen. You ran your hand over his shoulders, causing him to look up to you and give you a warm smile in response.

“You going on break, princess?” he asked you before turning back to cutting the bread with a large serrated blade.

“Yes chef,” you said with a slight flirtatious tone, reaching down and beginning to assemble the sliced bread into the empty basket for Sanji to bring to the guests. You took a small, porcelain ramekin and began to pour a portion of oil into the dish, topping it with a small amount of pink sea salt.

“Then off you go, then,” he said playfully, taking the ramekin from your hands and ushering you out of the floor and towards the staff room. You laughed a little, turning back to him.

“What time do you go on break?” you asked him, raising your brow slightly.

“As soon as I drop these off to the corner table and take their order,” he replied with a broad smile, gesturing to a booth with four guests; three men and one woman.

“I’ll see you back there, then,” you smiled at him, turning back around and briskly walking to the staffroom. Once making your way to the corner room, you began assembling a small assortment of food onto two plates from the prior made ‘family meal’ you assume was put together by Patty by the looks of it.

You placed the plates on the staff table and made to grab a mug to fill with the filtered coffee from the hot urn in the corner of the room. The door of the staffroom flung open, revealing your tall, blonde coworker as he sauntered over to the staff table.

“One of those for me, princess?” he asked you, gesturing to the plates on the table.

“Yes, love. You want a coffee too?” you asked him, pouring the dark liquid into your mug.

“I’d love one,” he said, taking a seat at the staff table, watching you as you picked up another mug and filled it to the brim with the caffeinated substance. You walked over to the table and placed one mug in front of him and the other in front of the plate you set aside for yourself. Before you could pull the chair out from under the table, Sanji rose back to his feet and moved the chair outwards, gesturing for you to sit in it.

“What a gentleman,” you commented with a small smirk, thanking him with a nod and taking a seat.

“Anything for you,” he flirted back before resuming his position on the seat adjacent to where you were sitting.

You and Sanji were very much accustomed to minor, and sometimes major, flirtations with one another. Being in the hospitality industry, words of charm and flirtatious advances were often commonplace as it would bring more berry to not only yourself but to your head chef. Feeding the bellies and the egos of the diners was a skill that went hand in hand, and you were more than grateful to Sanji for the ability to practice these particular skills with him.

You both sat in a shared, comfortable silence as you consumed the family meal with one another.

“I saw the redhead on table 12,” you slyly mentioned in between bites, prompting Sanji to turn his head up to you.

“Oh?” he responded with a quirk of his brow.

“Really pretty,” you offhandedly commented, staring at your dish and fishing for a pea that escaped your spoon.

“Not as pretty as you, cheri,” he smirked at you, prompting you to scoff and nudge him.

“No, I’m serious love,” you said, looking up at him and tilting your head to the side, “she looks like your type.”

“You don’t know my type,” he quipped back at you with a coquettish Cheshire grin. You rolled your eyes and retrieved your mug, taking a sip from the porcelain container. You sighed as you felt the caffeine enter your system, imbuing your body with a gift of energy pulled from the recesses of your body.

You looked at the time and noticed you had around ten minutes before you were due back at the bar.

“When’s your next rostered day off?” Sanji asked you, fishing for a cigarette from his inner jacket pocket. He retrieved your lighter he was yet to return and flick the flint to ignite the end of the cigarette.

“Oh, I don’t know. Never?” you replied, taking the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own. You inhaled deeply, maintaining eye contact with the blonde chef and returned the cylindrical object to his fingertips. You exhaled, ensuring you did not blow the nicotine riddled smoke at him but to the side of the room.

“Surely you’ve been scheduled off at some stage?” he asked, bringing the cigarette to his lips and deeply inhaling.

“Well,” you shrugged in response, “you know me, love. I never turn down a coverage shift.”

You collected both your and Sanji’s empty plates, utensils and mugs and brought them over to the sink and began washing them with scorching water, running a brush with dish soap over them and ensuring they were completely clean before placing them on the drying rack.

“Well, that’s it for me I’m afraid,” you said, drying your hands on a tea towel and smoothing over your top. You turned to face Sanji, noticing he was wiping down the staff table with a damp towel to remove any crumbs or blemishes from the surface.

“Just a halfa?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow up to you, “you’ve been on for nine hours.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got six more to go,” you shrugged.

“You’re working close?” he said, pausing his cleaning and looking up to you.

“Yeah, Lara hadn’t been feeling well so I offered to close for her. She’s heading off as soon as I’m back,” you said while scrunching up your nose.

“Leaving you with Jacob?” he asked you, throwing the damp towel onto the table.

“That’s right,” you said with a smile, “we’ve got good rapport. We’ll make it work.”

You gave him a pat on his shoulder and made to exit the staffroom, only to have your movements halted by a hand firmly grasping your wrist. You creased your brows and turned back around to look at the blonde chef in front of you.

“Are you ok, love?” you asked him, bringing your own hand to rest on the one grasping your wrist. You gave his hand a small squeeze in comfort, offering him a smile to further reassure him. His eyes bore into your own, lips slightly parted as he gazed into your eyes.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me,” he said, shaking his head and releasing your wrist from his grasp, “You’re working yourself too hard, is all.”

You offered him a genuine smile and placed your hand on his left cheek. You reached up on the tips of your toes to place a brisk kiss on his right cheek, holding him there for a moment. After releasing his soft cheek from your hand, you sunk down onto the balls of your feet and smiled in reassurance at him.

“You’re so beautiful when you care, Sanji,” you complimented him before stepping your body away from its close proximity to his. You could see a slight pink tinge cross his nose, cheeks and ears; prompting you to smile at him broadly.

“Come and see me for a drink when your shift is up,” you said, turning away from him, “I’ll make you something nice for your knock off.”

You briskly exited the staff room, made your way onto the floor and sauntered up the stairs to the bar where Lara was waiting to do a hand over with you for her portion of the bar.

Sanji was left stuck in his place for a moment before his enchantment was broken by an interrupting guttural cough. He turned to see the figure of the head chef, Zeff leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“Got something to say, old man?” Sanji taunted Zeff, reaching his hand up to rub over his face and fix his hair in an attempt to rid his features of any unwanted pigment.

“Not a damn thing, little eggplant,” he replied with a smug look, scratching the whiskers on his chin and smoothing over his braided moustache.

Once Lara completed handover with you, you placed your hand on her shoulder and wished her well on her recovery from sickness. You made your way over to Jacob who welcomed you to the bar with a warm embrace.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you tonight!” he exclaimed in delight, “this shift is going to be an absolute breeze.”

You laughed at him and went over to the sound system and began to create a small set list to blare over the speakers in the bar area to set the atmosphere for your upcoming patrons. Once you had managed to complete the list of rotating records, you ignited the speakers and swayed your hips a little to the rhythm.

As the night flew on, more patrons exited the restaurant and flooded into the bar. Both you and Jacob began to bounce off each other, juggling bottles as you created cocktails, shots and poured tankards for your guests. You paid special attention to a customer who introduced himself as a pirate captain who continuously ordered goldfish bowls full of fruit-forward cocktails. You would laugh at his many tales of adventures on the high seas, only halting your laughter as your attention was required of the other guests around the bar.

You sang along to the words relayed over the speakers near the bar and continued to create a pleasant atmosphere for the customers with your flirtatious service. Small touches here and there were exchanged in a friendly manner with some of the regulars who knew you by name, which you reciprocated as one would do old friends.

You began to collect a variety of discarded glassware to bring back to the bar to wash, placing each item in the rack you carried. You saw the redhead sitting with a man with three swords and green hair drinking a bottle of rum, their table littered with several empty shot glasses.

“Hello loves, can I take some of these glasses from you?” you asked with a warm smile.

“By all means,” the redhead said, sitting back to recline in her seat.

“But leave two,” the green-haired man grunted out, his hand hovering over one of the glasses.

“Absolutely,” you smiled, reaching forward and collecting three fishbowls, six shot glasses and an empty bottle of rum, “would you like a refill?”

“No-,” the redhead began, her words being halted by the swordsman.

“-Yes,” he declared. You arched your brow in response.

“I’ll just leave it for now,” you smiled, turning your attention to the redhead, “come and find me if you change your mind,” you added with a wink.

“Are all the staff here so flirtatious?” she asked with a hint of slight agitation.

“Only the fun ones,” you retorted with a shrug and a slight laugh. You turned back toward the bar and began sorting through the glassware to prepare them to be washed by your ‘bar back’, Tori.

You gave Tori a smile and turned back around and began preparing drinks for the new wave of customers littering the bar. You noticed a newcomer facing the bar, not yet being served with a drink. The pirate captain continued to spurt tales of daring adventures while he finished another fishbowl of mixed liquor.

You turned your attention to the newcomer, noticing his broad hat shielding his face from your vision.

“Can I get you something, sir?” you asked him. He tilted his head up to reveal his yellow, hawk-like eyes staring at you with an uneasy intensity.

“What varieties of red wine do you have currently,” he asked you with a quirk of his left eyebrow, continuing to bear his gaze into your own. Heeding the uneasy feeling no mind, you leant your arms onto the bar and brought your gaze closer to his own.

“It depends, darling,” you challenged the newcomer, “are you more of an aged vintage or late harvest kind of man?”

He hummed in response, leaning in with a slight smirk.

“Do I look like the type of man to have my dessert before dinner?” he taunted you with a slight hint of flirtatious contest.

“You look like the type of man who could have anything he wants in any order he desires,” you retorted, quirking your own brow and looking at him through half-lidded eyes. You allowed a small pause before you began listing the vintages you kept behind the bar.

“Our lighter reds are pinot noir, sangiovese and tempranillo,” you backed away from the bar slightly, maintaining the hold of your gaze into his own yellow eyes, “and our more heavy bodied varieties include cabernet sauvignon, shiraz and we’ve also currently got a fifteen year barrel aged grenache, syrah, and mourvedre combination if that more your fancy.”

You offered him a slight sigh while you fetched a large crystal chalice from the cabinet you kept below the bar, kneeling slightly to retrieve the object. You stood again to your feet with the glass.

“Our late harvests include a sauvignon blank and merlot combination, but we’ve also got a reserved tawny port and refined muscat if that more your style,” you quirked your head to the side.

“You know your wines,” he commented, relaxing into the bar stool beneath him.

“It comes with the job, darling,” you jested with him, placing the glass in front of him, “what will it be?”

“The GSM,” he said, clasping his hand around the wineglass stem, “please.”

“Right away,” you purred at him, turning to journey to the wall of the bar containing several bottles lying on their sides.

“Thank you for taking that one,” you heard Jacob utter from beside you, “I couldn’t take his intensity.”

“Oh, tush,” you disregarded the comment, “you can take sailors, marines, and pirates but you can’t handle the gaze of a single shirtless swashbuckler?” you teased him. He mocked a silent laugh at you before turning and continuing to ready the glassware that had been washed and dried by Tori.

“I heard Sanji made you breakfast,” he asked you with a knowing tone, “how did that go?”

“What do you mean, how did that go?” you asked him to confirm, “how do you think it went? You’ve sampled his cooking. It’s superb.”

“Not what I meant,” he nudged you, placing a corkscrew into your open hand for the bottle you were preparing to decanter, “I feel like all of the front of house know you’re sweet on him.”

You froze slightly at the words before you began using a small blade to cut away the wax on the neck of the wine bottle.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you uttered, removing the wax and aligning the screw end of the corkscrew with the wooden cork.

“Playing coy? So unlike you,” Jacob accused with a smirk, “I’ve seen the way you look at him. We all have.” He nodded his head to Tori, of which you met her gaze. She scrunched her nose and nodded her head with a smile.

“That obvious, huh?” you asked, twirling the corkscrew to the appropriate depth of the bottle and commenced levering it from its place within the neck of the bottle.

“So why don’t you make a move?” he asked.

“Haven’t you got somewhere else to be?” you retorted. He shrugged his shoulders and encouraged you to continue speaking.

“Fine,” you relented, popping the cork from the bottle neck without leaving wooden residue within the deep crimson liquid. You brought the neck of the bottle to the crystal decanter and began slowly oxidising the liquid by pouring it into the pitcher.

“We work together. He’s the sous chef, I’m the front of house manager. Sometimes I do kitchen duties, sometimes front of house, sometimes aiding Zeff with his managerial duties,” you began, focussing your attention on the liquid slowly pouring into the crystal chasm, “today, bar shift.”

“So?” Jacob asked you, opening his arms in question.

“Our whole job is to flirt,” you expressed, “we are to appear available, but never be available.” You crouched down to focus more on the angle of the neck entering the decanter, focussing on the moment any grape sediment that would seek to enter into the refined liquid.

“Believe me, I want nothing more than to act on my impulse with him,” you said, lifting the bottle up from it’s place in the lip of the decanter, “but as everyone on this ship knows, I never get a day off to keep for myself, let alone foster any time into a relationship.”

You grabbed the now semi empty wine bottle and discarded the dead yeast sediment and grape residue into the regular bin before tossing the bottle skilfully into the recycling bin. You paid no mind to your coworkers while you swirled the deep red wine within the decanter.

“So, you actually want him then?” Jacob questioned, “not just playful banter?”

“Oh, won’t you just leave it alone?” you asked him in response, poking out your tongue at him, “c’mon, we’ve got customers and the chefs and wait staff are probably going to want their knock offs soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jacob smirked at you as you made your way back to the intimidating swashbuckler with his perfectly prepared decanter full of red wine.

Part 3

[haddonfieldwhore]

on your side - jey uso

jey uso x fem!reader

word count: 0.9k

warnings: scripted violence, blurs kayfabe + real life a bit

raw: september 18th 2023

tensions had been at an all time high backstage for the last few weeks, ever since cody brought jey uso to raw. you understood that he had hurt a lot of people, and you knew that you were one of the few people that didn’t have an issue with him being back on monday nights. you didn’t know jey very well, but you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. you and cody were two of the top baby faces on the roster, and you shared a common trait; you believed in second chances and seeing the good in people.

it didn’t take long before the judgment day was trying to recruit jey, which would be a dangerous combination if he said yes. they were already a powerful group, you couldn’t imagine if they added the talents of main event jey uso to their ranks.

you were walking around backstage looking for adam to talk about a potential match for you next week, when you turned a corner and almost bumped into jey.

“whoa - my bad,” he said, holding his hands up like he expected you to get mad at him.

“no worries,” you smiled. “good luck on your match tonight.” he looked you up and down, and you weren’t sure if he was checking you out or looking for any sign that you were going to attack him. he must have decided that you were being sincere, as he seemed to relax a little at your friendly demeanour.

“appreciate that,” he nodded.

“have you thought about what you’re going to to about the judgment day?” you asked, and he ran his hand over the lower half of his face, smoothing out his beard as he shook his head.

“i don’t know yet,” he admitted.

“whatever you decide, make the right choice for you,” you said, and he nodded, obviously a lot on his mind. you stared walking away, not wanting to take up too much of his time since his match was starting soon.

“hey,” he called after you, and you turned back. “thanks. you’re cool,” he said, offering a hand for you to fist bump him. you smiled, tapping your knuckles against his before walking away to find adam.

•••

maybe it was because you were curious to see what decision he had come to in regards to the judgment day. or maybe you secretly wanted to cheer him on, but you had decided to hang out in gorilla to watch jeys match against drew. it was nearing the end of the match, and it had been a pretty even fight, when damian, finn, and dominik came out, surrounding the ring. you sighed, just hoping that jey took your advice and didn’t let them get in his head and distract him from the match that was currently going on.

jey was thrown into the corner, and the judgment day cheered him on, jey eventually standing up and giving priest a fist bump before super kicking all three of them, making his decision clear. unfortunately he turned around and walked straight into a claymore from mcintyre, and drew pinned him for the three count. jey was still laid out in the ring as drew jumped over the ropes, and started walking up the ramp.

you watched as a humiliated judgment day surrounded jey. they started kicking and hitting him relentlessly, jey having no chance on his own against the three of them as they picked him up and continued their attack. drew seemed to consider turning back to help him, but never did, and you decided you couldn’t watch this anymore. you ran out to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and pulling dominik off of jey first, and he went to swing at you until he realized that he couldn’t hit you. you superkicked him, and he rolled out of the ring. you managed to pull the other two off of jey, who they had let fall down to the mat, a crumpled heap on the canvas. they backed off as you stood between the fallen uso and the judgment day.

“this isn’t over,” finn spat, and you stepped eye to eye with him.

“yeah, i think it is.”

“we’ll see about that when mami gets back!” dominik yelled. you didn’t have time to reply as cody’s music hit, and the american nightmare ran out to the ring, running past drew and getting in the ring. finn and damian attacked him, now having an opponent they could fight back against, but you pulled finn off of cody, and managed to get him to back off out of the ring, joining dominik who was backing up the ramp in retreat. cody clotheslined damian over the top rope, the taller man landing on his feet before you and cody helped jey up.

jey looked at you, suprised that you had come out to to his aid, but more than that he was grateful. you looked at cody, who gave you a nod, and you returned it.

“are you okay?” you asked jey, and he nodded, finally able to catch his breath.

“you ain’t had to do that for me. you got a target on your back now.”

“i wasn’t just gonna let it happen. and if anyone wants to come for me, i’ll be ready,” you assured him. you knew as soon as she was medically cleared, rhea would be after you, but you had the advantage of knowing she was coming after you.

“thank you,” jey insisted, and you smiled.

“what are friends for?”

jey looked surprised, but cracked a smile, wincing slightly as cody raised his arm. he may have lost the match, and made a few more enemies, but he had gained an ally, and jey considered that a win.

[cadoodledoodleydoo]

THEY CAME!! THEY CAME!! THEY CAME!! THEY CAME!! THEY CAME!! SCREECHING! RABID! SHAKING THE BARS OF MY CAGE! Thank you so much @dragonnova!! Not only do you make amazing fanart + products but your communication and service are always quick, concise and clear! It's such a joy to not only support you and your lovely art but to get to have so many fun little trinkets to add to my collection! I too am a little dragon adding to my hoard!! As soon as I received my last order and saw the full roster of turtles available I knew I had to not only finish off my set of red banded boys, but also get some goodies to send to my other turtle friends! I'm amassing such a fun little collection of your ink drawings too and they make me so happy aaaaa! LOOK AT DONNY'S LITTLE SMILE YALL LOOK AT IT HE'S SO SOFT! AS SOFT AS THESE BUTTONS ARE!!

Ya'll if you havent checked out DragonNova and their shop you are MISSING OUT PLEASE PLEASE GO GIVE ALL YOUR MONEY AND LOVE AND SUPPORT HECC!! ➡ Shop link here!! ⬅

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Yellow Shy Guy

Debut: Certainly not Mario Kart Tour! (It was Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island)

Yeah yeah yeah this is a very Regular Mario Enemy. Yes, you are on the right blog! But this is a Regular Mario Enemy, in a Weird Mario Situation... yeah, it’s another post about the specifics of character alt colors in Mario Kart Tour. I hope you like those!

Shy Guys come in all sorts of colors! They always have! Red may be default, but yellow can always be counted on to make an appearance if other colors are present. It makes sense, since Yellow is one of the main characters of Colors. Do you consider the primary colors to be red/blue/yellow or magenta/cyan/yellow? Doesn’t matter! Yellow is there! Please do not bring up RGB. But if you do, I will simply retort that the powers of red and green light must combine to give rise to the mighty Yellow!

Yellow Shy Guy is also very often playable! In older, more limited games, the default red may be the only one playable, but these days you can confidently expect Yellow Shy Guy to be an option. If you were lucky in Mario Kart DS download play, you might be assigned Yellow Shy Guy by random chance! Yellow Shy Guy finally became selectable in Mario Kart 8′s DLC, which to me is more appealing than any of the added characters. While my favorite color is light blue, I am a big fan of Yellow Shy Guy, and find his green shoes more fashionable than Light-Blue Shy Guy’s red ones!

But then, along came Mario Kart Tour. Red Shy Guy was the first one present, no problem with that! We all knew the rest would come soon enough. But they came in a weird order! Black, pink, green, light blue, blue, white, orange... At the time of Orange Shy Guy’s release, it had been nearly three and a half years since the game launched. And yet, still no sign of that classic yellow fellow? I’m normally mellow, but that makes me want to bellow! Even a gold Shy Guy was added... gold. The coward’s yellow!

On the wiki’s list of Shy Guy colors, Yellow is among the only ones not using a render from Tour, instead being shown using one from Dr. Mario World, in a different pose. Yellow looks like an impostor among all these others! I’m here if he ever needs to vent.

According to Mario Super Sluggers, Yellow Shy Guy loves to steal. Hey! Stealing is bad! Is that why you’re not allowed in Tour, Yellow Shy Guy? Green Shy Guy loves to hit and run, but that’s okay. Mario Kart is all about vehicular violence. They love that kind of attitude!

This all being said, Yellow Shy Guy is technically playable in Tour, though as a variant in the form of Yellow Shy Guy (Explorer). This is an act of community service, as Yellow Shy Guy is graciously role-playing as an old-timey prospector as seen in the new version of Sunset Wilds, replacing the racist usage of Shy Guys from the GBA version of the track. Thank you, Yellow Shy Guy! But still, he should not have to hide himself behind a costume to get a place in the roster. Or I guess a second costume, in this case. When will being a humble Yellow Shy Guy be seen as enough...?

Poor Yellow Shy Guy. But oh? What is that, under the read more of this post? Wow! I can’t believe it! What a thing to behold! You should click Read More, so you can see it!

Donkey Kong is finally getting a costumed variant, and about time too! Congratulations to him! Sorry to Yellow Shy Guy though. Yellow Shy Guy is not Donkey Kong, you see. Unless he IS Donkey Kong under his robes and mask, and gorillas can be compressed into much smaller states than I was aware of.

...Huh? What’s that, live studio audience of children? There’s something I’m missing? There’s something else of note in this tour? Oh! Thank you for letting me know! Let’s see...

HOORAY!!!!!

Yellow Shy Guy loves to steal, it’s true. And he is especially great at stealing the show! I am so proud of Yellow Shy Guy for finally making it into Mario Kart Tour! #YellowShyGuySweep! It makes me want to play as Yellow Shy Guy in Mario Kart 8, which is a much better game where you can access Yellow Shy Guy quickly and easily.

To celebrate our friend’s victory, if you have Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, you could play the custom Yellow Mode I made up! Here are the rules:

1. All humans must play as Yellow Shy Guy, and use only the yellowest of kart parts!

2. Only yellow items may be used! This means Coin, Banana, Triple Banana, Golden Mushroom, Star, and Lightning!

3. Only yellow courses are allowed! There are not that many yellow courses, so you can use your imagination here. For example, Toad Circuit features a big Yellow Toad balloon, and untextured Yellow sand! Wario’s Gold Mine is about mining some Yellow Minerals! Ice Ice Outpost features a whole yellow track, but don’t even think about driving on the green one!

And speaking of yellow tracks... I hope everyone’s looking forward to the Simpson Tour, featuring the new Springfield Streetrace track! Mario Kart Tour? More like Mario BART Tour! Aye carumba!

[heart4reigns]

could i also request an imagine where it's reader and roman's wedding day and it's like a story from a fairytale and they exchange their vows that either make everyone laugh or cry because they're just so in love with each other that all the guests can feel their endless love (i'm a hopeless romantic)

WILDEST DREAMS, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, inaccurate events

tags: italics for flashbacks, pure fluff!!!, afab reader

summary: it's your big day and you couldn't help but to look back at your memories

THE sound of footsteps filled your eardrums as you focused on your reflection. “damn, (y/n) you look amazing!” your best friends, trinity and jimmy, entered the room. “you look amazing too, trin!” you complimented her. “how are you feeling?” jimmy sat down next to you, while trin helped you fix your dress. “terrible. what if i trip down the aisle?” “then we'll fall with you, we got you always.” she always had a way to cheer you up. “it’ll be okay, (y/n).” trin patted your back as you hugged her.

today was your wedding day. after countless days of planning, the day finally came. your fiancé and you were finally going to tie the knot. "right, you ready?" your dad asked you, looking confused at your state. "no, i'm not." you stuttered, anxiousness filling your veins. "hey, hey. it's going to be okay." he walked over to you, to lift your veil. "it's your big day today," your father paused for a second, holding back his tears. "you're my brave girl, this isn't anything compared to what you've been through." with that, you walked down the altar.

everyone's attention turned to you and you immediately made eye-contact with your soon-to-be husband. there he was, with the biggest smile plastered on his face. as soon as you were facing him, you couldn't help but to stifle a chuckle. that made him mimic your gesture and the two of you ended up smiling stupidly at each other. “you look beautiful.” he said. “you look pretty too.” and the ceremony began. the beach was filled with your loved ones; friends, family, and colleagues. everyone was there to watch you tie the knot with your partner.

“friends and family of (y/n) and roman… welcome and thank you for being here on this important day. we are gathered together to celebrate the very special love between bride and groom, by joining them in marriage.” the officiant stated, looking at the two of you with a smile. you couldn’t stop staring at the man in front of you, eyes filled with joy and love.

roman thought long and hard for his vows, he was finally going to say them in front of you. he took the microphone and he was ready to recite them. "(y/n), the first day i saw you... you were with alone, i remember being starstruck, not knowing what to say. our first impressions weren't so good. you picked up a fight the moment i stepped inside the room." the guests laugh at roman's sentence.

“do you want to meet your cousins first?” seth asked, tidying up his outfit before their showtime. "think you should go see them first." dean added. “sure, i’ll meet y'all back here.” roman was finally debuting in the main roster and he was nervous. the first thing he wanted to do when he arrived was meet his cousins. he didn’t knock on the door, he knew that his cousins would be there. to his surprise, jimmy and jey weren’t there, but a familiar face greeted him instead.

it was you. roman was always a big fan of you, especially with your current run. he stood there, not knowing what to say. “can i help you?” you raised a brow, eyeing him from head to toe. “uh…” roman muttered. “hello?” you said once again. “well, if you don’t have anything to say, move along, i’m trying to get dressed.” you closed the door on his face, causing him to tilt his head in confusion.

“damn, uce! been a long time since we seen you!” to his luck, his cousins greeted him from behind. “what are you doing standing here? let’s go chill a bit in our locker room!” jimmy opened the door and roman once again made eye contact with you. “(y/n)! have you met roman? this is our cousin and it’s his first day here.” jey introduced him to you. “oh, hi! sorry, i thought you were just messing around by standing in front of the door not saying anything… i’m (y/n), nice to meet you!” “nice to meet you too, i’m roman.”

you laughed at the memory. you were so used to your male coworkers messing around, you thought he was also going to mess with you. “i actually thought you were going to slam me to the ground… i was so scared of you, baby. remembering that moment actually made me shiver… can y’all believe it? i was terrified of her.”

“but when i got to know you, i think that changed my life. remember our first date? they were trying to set us up and it actually worked. i can’t believe that bar date made me fall in love with you… in the middle of nowhere, just the two of us. i’d take that stale beer any day.”

no one picked up his call. dean, seth, and the twins were no where to be seen. so there he was, sitting all alone in the booth with a beer. they were going to have a night out, but once again, no one answered his call. the bar was crowded but he couldn't careless, it was a busy day and he deserved a pint of cold beer. he laid his head on the table, feeling tired.

"hey! didn't expect to see you here." a familiar voice made him look up from his current position. you were standing in front of him, clearly confused. "oh, hey! what are you doing here?" roman furrowed his brows. "jey, jimmy, and your two funny friends asked me to come here for a night out..." you took a seat in front him. "same, but no one answered my call." roman shrugged his shoulders. "yeah, they didn't answer me too." then it clicked. "they set us up." you chuckled. roman felt his cheeks reddening. "oh, then i don't mind."

that specific date replayed in your mind. the boys set you up with him and you were thankful. you looked at seth who was sitting down and gave him a wink as he was the mastermind behind that plan. "who would've thought a glass of beer in a random city would lead me standing here in front of you, i'm so thankful for you. i love you and i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, (y/n)." that made you tear up.

"no one knows about this but i actually cried before going out because i used to daydream about our wedding and it was exactly like this. us on the beach, you looking beautiful as ever... and me being nervous just by saying my vows. you really make me weak. the thought of waking up to you every morning is something to look forward to, (y/n). i love you and i will always do."

roman was always a romantic boyfriend. you knew that he'd give the world to you and you'd do the same. the amount of sacrifices the two of you made were countless–and it was all worth it in the end. "you're gonna make me cry." you mouthed at him. "you're already crying." he joked.

it was your time to say your vows. you breathed out the warm and fresh air of the beach, preparing yourself. "i didn't believe in love at all. when i was caught up in my own feelings for roman, i was in denial of my own feelings. it's not shocking and everyone knew that i was practically against dating people from work... but he changed my perception of love."

"so you do actually love him?" jey asked, taking a bite of his bland catering food. "i do! but you know how hard it is for me to actually say it to him." you were stressed out. you were getting your makeup done and jey was there, bothering you like usual. "damn girl, just talk it out with him. he's practically head over heels for you." jey shrugged his shoulders. "thanks jasmine." you thanked the makeup artist and faced jey, who was sitting in front of you. "i can't... it's hard."

you were never one to be mushy and affectionate, but being with roman changed you. the countless dates, the butterflies in your stomach every time you made eye-contact, and the thought of him... everything made you weak to your knees. he was the one and you knew it. but you couldn't help but to push it all deep inside you as you were scared of being deep in your feelings. you were on top of your game, your career was flourishing and nothing could stop you from focusing on work.

nothing but a certain black-haired man who was carrying a bouquet of flowers, walking towards you. "hi beautiful." you smiled at him. "hey, who are these for?" you teased him. "just for charles, since i bump him a lot." he joked. you rolled your eyes. "it's for you of course." he ruffled your hair. "what's the special occasion? is it my birthday today?" you took the bouquet and put it inside your locker. "just wanted to give my pretty girl some flowers, i should do this very often tho. you deserve all the pretty flowers."

"and i thought to myself, well if this is love then i don't mind being loved forever by you." you cracked a smile, feeling tears slowly falling down your cheeks. "now my makeup is ruined but i don't care, i can't express how much i truly love you." roman chuckled, wiping the tears off your face. "it's okay, you still look beautiful as always."

"you were always there for me, baby." you continued, holding his hands tighter than before. "whether it was a sad day or a tiresome day, you were there. with your stupid smile and flowers. i sometimes feel like i don't deserve your love at all." you admitted. "but you made me realize that everyone deserves to be loved. you're my one and only, i can't imagine my life without you."

roman too, was in tears. the guests were deep in their feelings. people who were close to you knew that you were meant to be with him. ever since he stepped into the industry and became close to you, the two of you became inseparable. there was no roman without you and it goes the same way for you.

"without you, i'd probably still be all alone... maybe bothering trin and jimmy non stop like i usually did. my life has always been monotone but you came into it and suddenly, i saw nothing but colors. you really light up my world, love. i love you and like you said, i too, can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"do you, take (y/n) to be your wedded wife, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment, to love her faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?" "i do." the officiant looked at you. "and do you, take roman to be your wedded husband, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment, to love him faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?" "i do." the officiant smiled. "you may now kiss the bride."

the night went on and you were dancing with your husband. you made eye-contact with him and a grin spread on your face. "what are you smiling for?" he teased you. "i don't know, i'm happy." you chuckled. "i'm happy too..." he muttered, kissing your forehead. "you said that you daydreamed about our wedding... i really got into your head, huh?" "shut up, you know you're insatiable."

"looking back at our memories... and now we're here." you said. "it felt like it was only yesterday you threatened to break my arm because you wanted the last cup of coffee." you chuckled at that memory. "and you were actually scared of me, love." "i was, but look at us now. i wouldn't trade anything for our moments." he held your waist, serenading you to the music. "i love you, joe." you looked up to him. "and i love you too, (y/n). but i think you already know that."

a/n: omg... finally finished w this request... i'm sorry it took so long but to whoever requested this i hope you enjoyed it bc i got all mushy writing this </33 i just love writing couples looking back at their past memories ^__^ feedbacks are highly appreciated <3

[afterdarkprincess]

Between the Pages

Pairing: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels (pre-relationship) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,427 Summary: Bret confiscates a copy of Shawn's Playgirl from the locker room and gives it a read in the privacy of his hotel room, discovering some things about himself.

AO3 link

Shoutout to @taydaq - your headcanon of Bret reading the interview directly inspired this 💖

This fic is Explicit and includes Masturbation and fantasies of Oral and Anal Sex- 18+ only. Full Tag list on AO3

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @jeysbvck @harmshake @southerngirl41 @imabillyami @ambreignsfan4life (if you would like to be added to the list or I missed you please let me know!)

💗💗💗💗

Between the Pages

Bret Hart is a professional.

He comes into work, does his job, and goes home. He’s damn good at it, and he’s not one for gossip and drama. Whatever the rest of the guys in the locker room have going on in their personal lives that’s their own damn business as far as Bret is concerned.

Unfortunately sometimes they make their business his business.

Bret’s already not in the greatest mood when he gets to the arena for Raw that night. It’s been a rough few months with the contract negotiations, and his tolerance for bullshit has been pushed to the limit lately.

So when he walks past the door to the locker room, hearing giggles and tussling from the grown ass men he’s supposed to be coworkers with, his hackles are already raised.

He enters the room, unsurprised to find mostly the young and immature members of the roster playing keep-away with something.

“C’mon I wanna see-“

“I bet you do, Butch. Surprised you don’t have one of these in your gym bag.”

“No way man, Michaels ain’t my type!”

Bret fights the urge to roll his eyes at the Champ’s name. Of course that’s what this is about.

“Hey!” His voice bounces off the concrete walls, cutting through the noise and shutting everyone up. He stares at the guy whose clearly trying to hide something behind his back. “Give it here or I’m telling management to bench all of you.”

Sheepishly the man hands it over, Bret snatching it out of his hands as soon as it’s within reach.

“Bunch of children, I swear. Fighting over this garbage.” The shiny paper crinkles under his grip. “Who gives a shit what’s in here anyway, probably just Micheals on an ego trip as usual.”

A few of them start to protest but he just shakes his head and takes his leave, thankful that he and his brothers have the luxury of a separate locker room. He looks down at the crumpled magazine in his hand as he goes through the doorway, and of course he runs headfirst into someone.

“Sorry, are you—“ When he looks up, he finds the same face staring back as the one grinning up from the magazine cover. “Shawn, you good?”

He looks him up and down, the champ looks fine physically, no harm from the collision, but there’s an odd look on his face that Bret can’t quite place.

“Fine, fine.” Shawn replies, with a smile on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Nothing that you need to worry about, Hitman.”

Bret hesitates. Something is clearly not right here, but his relationship with Shawn these days isn’t the greatest. He really doesn’t wanna push or pry where he’s not wanted and make things worse.

“Okay- I’ll, uh. See you around.” Bret takes a step back to leave and waves, realizing too late that the hand he waves with is still holding the trashy girly magazine. With Shawn on the cover.

If someone could just strike him down now that would be great.

Shawn laughs real and genuine for a moment before an almost sadness returns to his eyes. “Yeah, see you around.”

It doesn’t sit well with him, but he has no choice but to leave it at that.

They’d been almost friends at one point, years ago now, before things got all… complicated. They’d never been as close as Bret is to his brothers of course, but their chemistry in the ring had translated well outside of it too. They’d even tagged a few times, but then Shawn had made other friends and the business isn’t kind. It’s cutthroat, every man for himself. And Shawn had shown himself to be in it for just that, himself.

But still he wonders sometimes what might be if Shawn hadn’t fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Surely he wouldn’t be nearly nude on the cover of some porn magazine.

Thankfully the Hart locker room is empty when he arrives. He should probably just throw the damn magazine away, but instead he shoves it hastily into his gym bag, where it stays safely hidden away from his brothers’ prying eyes.

—

Bret doesn’t have a huge part to play on Raw that night, just a promo and a backstage spot before he’s done for the evening.

Usually he would hang around for a while to see the rest of the show, but he’d spent most of the day in a car and the comfort of a hotel room bed was calling his name.

He didn’t think about the copy of Playgirl hiding at the bottom of his bag, forgetting it’s existence entirely until after he’d gotten a nice hot shower and was getting ready to settle in for the night.

Bret dove his hand inside the bag, searching for a fresh pair of briefs and was taken aback by the sound of rustling paper.

“Oh yeah,” He mumbles out loud, rescuing the crumpled up pages before returning to his search. He tosses the magazine onto the bed and puts on the briefs before climbing in himself.

He’s tired, but it’s early still. And he has to admit his curiosity is piqued.

Bret smooths out the cover of the magazine, eyes roaming over his scantily clad coworker as he reads the various headlines about other male celebrities. It is a decent shot of Shawn, signature cocky smile staring out of the page.

The blurb about his interview reads “This Heartbreak Kid Is Single, Sexy, And Waiting To Get Wet With You!” the text tucked into the glistening curve of his armpit and ribs.

What a joke. Who on earth reads this stuff?

He flips through the pages, trying to avert his eyes as much as possible in case he gets an eyeful of more than he bargained for. He knows what kind of stuff they get away with in Playboy, who knows what they do in Playgirl. Mostly he just sees ads for perfume and razors among the articles until he finds the full page spread of photos of Shawn, in and out of the ring, that mark the beginning of his interview.

The insert proclaims, “the World Wrestling Federation’s CHAMPION LOVER had our hearts pinned to the mat in record time!!” right over a shot of Shawn stretched out on a bed, looking inviting.

“This is really what the guys in the locker room were fighting over?” He mumbles to himself in the quiet of the hotel room.

He begins to read the interview, which is mostly just vapid nonsense. How did he handle all the adoring women fans and being “single and searching”. and if he ever yearned for a normal life.

He flips the page and is confronted with a large photo of a clearly nude Shawn with only a bedsheet covering his crotch. He looks vulnerable, hair tossed delicately over one shoulder. If his exposed chest hadn’t been completely coated in a dark covering of hair, he could almost pass as a girl.

A tiny flame of arousal comes to life in Bret’s stomach.

“Huh,” It’s a tiny sound, no more than a grunt that escapes his lips. He tries not to think about that too much and reads on.

Does the idea of somebody biting at your heels, the next WWF Champion wanna-be ever worry you? You know what? I don't think so. I'm just confident in my ability. I don't sweat anybody. Nobody can wrestle longer than I can, nobody can make people yell louder than me for more. And if they can, I just work harder.

That gets Bret’s blood boiling. “Just who the hell does he think he is?” He scoffs at the page, unamused. That’s the exact kind of attitude in these up and comers that he just can’t stand, the kind of shit that’s gotten him and Shawn into disagreements in the past.

A voice in the back of his head, one with more rational sense than he has right now, reminds him that of course Shawn would play up his confidence in this interview for all the ladies.

It shouldn’t bother him.

He scans through the rest of the questions on the page, mostly inane things about pushy fans. The next page is mostly text with a few in ring photos, should be more interesting questions.

So what's the first thing that attracts you to a woman?

Or not.

Apparently Micheals likes smart girls. How interesting.

Back to the physical. What kind of hair and eyes? Brunettes first and foremost. That seems to be the pattern. Eyes…not really a color- it's just something about them, that there's something behind them. It's just one of those things that has to hit me immediately. That's how everything important has been in my life. If I don't get swept off my feet right away, I figure it isn't all that real.

Bret’s fingers wander to his own dark hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear as his memory brings forth several occasions where Shawn lost his train of thought while making eye contact with him, in the ring or backstage.

But that didn’t mean anything right? Shawn’s talking about his taste in girls, that doesn’t have anything to do with him.

The heat in his gut grows a little bit, and he feels it in his face too.

Being the WWF champion makes you the best-known and most popular wrestler in the world, doesn't it? (Modestly) Well, I'd like to think so.

A better answer, a political one. Bret can’t blame him there.

He skims through the next few questions, flipping the page to be greeted with several shots of Shawn post-shower, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. A sight he’s intimately familiar with from so many years of shared locker rooms, but never with Shawn looking at him like that.

Bret feels himself stirring a little in his shorts, and he tries desperately not to think about that too much, instead reading around the photos. Unfortunately they’re mostly silly ones about the hearts on his gear, if women get intimidated by him, so on and so on. Softball questions meant to titillate the target audience.

The interviewer asked how Shawn got the nickname “Boy Toy”, something Bret had been curious about as well, even though he’d been around when Shawn’s gimmick shifted. Apparently the moniker had been given to him by an older woman around that time.

Why do you think she called you that? I guess I was some form of object to her at the time.

He goes on to say that he doesn’t mind being objectified, which Bret can understand, it is part of the deal in their line of work. But knowing that his nickname, something Bret’s thrown at him both in ring and out came from such an unsavory comment; it doesn’t sit right with him.

Shawn hasn’t always been his favorite person, sure. And he had to have agreed to using the Boy Toy gimmick, which he plays so well. But something about that answer feels so sad?

Maybe it’s the lingering look of sadness he noticed in Shawn’s eyes, but there’s a soft undercurrent to some the answers that show a glint of the unsure young man Bret used to know. It’s far more compelling to him than the obnoxious act Shawn puts on, no clear line where his character ends and he begins.

Bret feels a tugging in his chest- maybe he’s been too harsh on Shawn these last few years. The soft spot he had for the younger man is still there underneath all the misunderstandings.

He’s also acutely aware that Shawn’s being objectified in these photos, and the insistent pressure in his groin proves he’s not immune.

The last page has another half-page spread of Shawn on a bed, covered again in a sheet, stormy blue eyes staring back at him.

The thumb holding the page brushes softly against the waterfall of Shawn’s hair almost against his will. Has Michaels always been this…. pretty?

Underneath the photo is a blurb, a quote from an answer he hasn’t gotten to yet.

”I’ve been told that for a man, I'm overly affectionate. I'm kissy-kissy, touchy-touchy, feely-feely”

Bret drops the magazine.

Every match, every practice, every scrap in the ring, all of it comes back to him now. The feel of Shawn’s body wrapped around him, underneath of him, beside him.

He doesn’t know how to process this wave of feelings, the weight of what this attraction means, how weak he feels to it. He’s never considered himself gay before, but can he really be that queer when Shawn is so soft and feminine?

He’s not sure but Bret wants him.

His dick is hard, aching. He sticks his hand under the fabric, biting his other hand to stifle the noise he makes as he takes himself in hand.

He doesn’t waste any time, gripping himself tight and screwing his eyes shut, his imagination running wild.

Shawn’s lips wrapped around him, staring up at him with those eyes, looking at him the way he looks in the damn girly magazine.

Shawn’s hands tangled in Bret’s hair as he rides him, hips bouncing as their lips connect, swallowing down his whines.

Shawn beside him in the bed, grinning as he jerks Bret off, poking fun at the noises he makes with a warm undercurrent of fondness.

Bret’s already getting close, between the visions of Shawn in his head and the sweet pressure and glide of his hand around him, eased with the copious amount of precum that leaks from his tip.

“You gonna come for me, Hitman?” Shawn’s breath tickles his ear before tugging his earlobe between his teeth playfully.

He lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and grunt as his muscles tense and he erupts onto his waiting palm.

Breathing heavily as he comes back down to earth, the reality of what he’s done settles onto his shoulders and shame floods in. What does this mean for his sexuality? How on earth is he going to be able to face Shawn in the locker room? In a match??

He covers his face with a pillow and lets out a long groan.

“Fuck!”

—

The next day Bret is tired. He’d been kept up, plagued by thoughts of Shawn in all kinds of compromising positions. When he did sleep they came again in his dreams, leaving him hard again when the alarm clock went off.

He took a cold shower before getting on the road. He had a three and a half hour drive to make it to the city where he’s set to perform tonight, just a house show but he’d like to hit up a gym before call time.

Bret resolutely tries not to think about Shawn Michaels or the magazine that’s tucked into the bottom of his suitcase. He blares the radio instead, letting the familiar noise drown everything out.

He wasn’t sure if Shawn was on the card for the show tonight, but with him being Champ at the moment it’s hard to imagine he won’t be.

Either way nothing had changed as far as Shawn is concerned. They’re still two guys who don’t particularly like each other.

He’ll just have to keep himself composed when he sees Shawn. Act like everything is normal and he didn’t spend the previous evening thinking of him while jerking off.

He can definitely do this.

“And that’s when I told the guy to buzz off and get out of the bar!”

The sound of Shawn’s voice is followed by laughter. He’s surrounded by his usual gang of friends- Hunter, Diesel and a few others, when Bret arrives to the arena.

He tries not to pay them any notice, hoping that he can make it to the safety of his private locker room without having to interact with them. For a minute he thinks he succeeded, keeping his head down as he walks past, only breathing once the sound of their laughter starts to fade.

But then he hears footsteps. “Ey- Hitman! Wait up, won’t ya?”

Of course.

Of course it’s Shawn.

Bret turns, watches Shawn jog to catch up to him. He’s not in his ring gear yet, instead he’s wearing a nearly see through muscle tank with sweatpants. His hair looks freshly dried, curls a little frizzy from the humidity.

“H-hey Shawn,” He tries for nonchalant, hopes that Shawn buys it. Thankfully he still has his sunglasses on so there’s no chance of Shawn seeing the panic in his eyes.

“Wanted to get your advice on somethin’-“ Shawn starts talking animatedly about a match idea he wants to pitch to management, but Bret loses track of what he’s asking almost immediately.

His eyes get lost somewhere between the light in Shawn’s eyes and the sultry curve of his lips as he talks. He thinks about how Shawn’s lips would feel against his, how Shawn’s curls would look after rolling around in the sheets underneath him.

Bret only realizes that Shawn’s stopped talking when his eyebrows knit together and he suddenly looks pissed.

“Were you even fucking listening?” He rolls his eyes. “And you claim that I’m full of myself, you know I don’t even know why I bother when all you do is act like you’re so much better than me-“

Fuck. He has to fix this.

“Shawn-“ He interjects but he gets steamrolled.

“But all you are is a fucking JACKASS, Bret.”

“You’re right.”

That gets his attention. “I’m right? You’re damn right I’m right.”

“I’ve been a jackass, Shawn. Yeah I wasn’t listening, but it’s.” He sighs, trying to decide how much to say. “It’s not what you think, I’m sorry, okay?”

Shawn looks wary. “If it’s not what I think then what is it?”

Bret feels panic rising in his chest. He can’t just fucking spill his guts to Shawn. He doesn’t know how Shawn will react, hell Shawn might not be gay at all, he did just do a whole interview about how great ladies are. He might punch Bret right in the face, have his friends beat him up, hell he could tell the whole locker room and make his life a living hell if he so chose.

No way he can tell him the truth. Not now anyway.

He searches for something to say, but he can’t find any good excuse. He’s terrified and frustrated and all he can do is stare at Shawn and think about just kissing that distrusting look of his face.

But he can’t of course.

When he doesn’t answer, the scowl on Shawn’s face deepens with hurt. “Fuck off Bret.” He spits before turning on his heel and heading back towards his friends.

He makes it a few feet before Bret realizes he’s fucked up even further.

“Shawn- wait!” He reaches out and grabs Shawn’s upper arm, holding tight even as Shawn tries to wrench out of his grasp.

“Get your hands off me-“

“I read your interview.” The words fall out of his mouth, hanging between them as Shawn goes still. “In the girly magazine, I read it, okay?”

“Oh.”

Bret’s fingers burn where they’re still holding on to Shawn’s arm. After a moment Shawn’s other hand moves slowly and wraps around his wrist, not moving to pull it off of him, just another point of contact between them.

Shawn’s eyes stare into his, like he’s sizing him up, searching for something. He stares right back, unable to look away.

For just a second he imagines that Shawn sways towards him, like he might bridge the gap between them, for what he doesn’t know.

But suddenly someone clears their throat and the moment is over.

Behind Shawn stands Hunter, with one eyebrow cocked, looking at them both suspiciously.

“Everything good here?”

The question is clearly aimed at Shawn, but Bret answers anyway. “Yeah man, all good. Was just leaving.”

He lets go of Shawn’s arm, taking a step back, but Shawn’s fingers stay locked around his wrist, not letting go.

“Shawn?” Hunter puts a hand on Shawn’s shoulder, and it seems to break Shawn from whatever spell he’s under.

His fingers release Bret’s hand, and he steps back into Hunter. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Bret watches as they go, befuddled as to what the hell just happened. Shawn looks back at him for just a moment, a small smile on his lips as their eyes meet.

His stomach is doing Moonsaults, but he feels something like hope.

He keeps the magazine.

[lots-of-sun]

A/n: Somehow I always end up writing about people walking LOL. Also a lot of my fic titles come from song lyrics!

Tamao Serizawa x Fem!Reader

SO KISS ME

Working at a bookstore always had its interesting experiences, especially when I'm usually the only person on shift everyday. Despite still being in high school, I was always rostered on, I guess being in senior year was bound to have it's downsides. The boss was always so picky about who worked here, not that it really mattered as long as you were competent. But over the two years I'd been employed here, I seem to be the only one who stuck. Not that my boss was ever mean or harsh, just didn't accept lazy or disrespectful staff. That's how I always ended up on the same schedule every week. Not that I minded, consistency was oddly relaxing, not having to worry about what to do next, always knowing.

The shop is small, yet packed with book shelves and a single table seating area right at the front of the main floor, across from the counter. I'd always loved the vintage and cozy vibe this building had, tucked away on a back street, like a little treasure that you'd only be able to find if you looked hard enough or stumbled across by accident.

One thing that kept me around this job for so long, was the people. With every face that stepped through that entrance came a new story, a new corner of the world I'd never learned about, a new adventure. The odd sense of home I got from the regulars who frequented for the newest reads or even the classics, always put a smile on my face. Though there was someone who stopped by often, despite never buying anything.

Tamao Serizawa had slipped into my life fairly nonchalantly, so much so that I don't entirely remember ever meeting him in the first place. Though I do recall the first time I'd seen him, walking past the open doors of the bookstore about a year and a half ago. He'd been surrounded by his group of friends, laughing along with them. He hadn't noticed me back then, but that changed a few months later.

I had easily forgotten about seeing him, I saw almost a hundred faces a day, even if it was just from people watching when the store was dead. It was a Monday afternoon when he'd entered the shop with his usual gang, I'd been adding pricing labels to newly arrived books from behind the counter near the door. They all wore classic school boy uniforms, yet they all seemed to be tweaked differently, defining them to being individual. They'd piled in near the entrance and brushed off my offer for assistance, though a pair of eyes seemed to linger on me. Even after they had looked around and left without purchasing anything, I couldn't shake the feeling of having someone watching me. Though I tried to brush it off as nonchalantly as I could.

That was until they began to come in more frequently, sometimes it was the whole group and other times it was only two or three of them but Tamao was always amongst them. Soon, they'd started spending most afternoons in the small seating area near the front of the store, never reading but always talking, plotting things I'd only eavesdropped on when I got bored. It became apparent to me pretty quickly that they were a part of one of the neighboring gang schools, though I didn't judge, there was no point, not when I didn't know them. After their first few rendezvous, they began including me in conversations, some were incredibly trivial, the kind of chats you'd have with friends. And others were serious, asking for advice and even if I didn't know how to answer, I tried my best.

On most weekends, Serizawa came in alone. Browsing the visual novel section, making small talk and asking for recommendations. He was always more engaged and at ease when he was alone, like he had more time to think without someone talking in his ear all the time. It's something I found comfort in, getting to see two separate sides to the same person. I wonder if he was like this with his friends, if he was actually always this calm and I just overlooked it when he was surrounded by others. But I definitely grew attracted to this side of him and eventually began to watch him more often, even if it was brief glances in his direction.

Today was no different than any other, heading straight to work after my final class of the day, changing out of my uniform in the stores bathroom and relieving my co-worker from their shift. I head out to the main floor and take a seat on the wooden stool behind the counter. My eyes scan the open notebook that sits next to the cash register, going over the list of responsibilities I have to complete before closing the store for the night.

Then the entrance bell rings and I don't even need to look up to know who it is, I'd heard them before they even made it to the door. The familiar sound of chatter and heavy shoes against the hardwood floors makes me smile. I raise my head to see exactly the people I'd expected.

"Hey guys, finally decide to indulge yourselves in literature?" I joke, knowing the answer is a resounding no. I take in all of their appearances, looking how they always do, save for a few extra bruises. My eyes linger on Serizawa for a split second, his gaze already fixed on me by the time I look towards him.

"Not today, but maybe one of these days" Tokio speaks up first, over the chorus of greetings I received.

"I could use a good book" Tokaji mumbles, already heading over to the seating area with Tsutsumoto.

"Serizawa's definitely trying to indulge in something else" The Mikami brothers whisper to each other, snickering at their own teasing words. They earn a slap on the back of the head by the man himself, the same hand retracting to run through his short hair.

"Don't mind them, monkeys haven't had their banana today" Serizawa's voice is thick as he lunges towards the brothers who scurry away to join everyone else at the table. He turns back to me, giving a small smile. "Yellow suits you" He adds softly, referring to the crew neck sweater I wore, before turning to join the others.

I smile at his words, feeling my heart leap in my chest. My eyes follow him to where he sits, it's kind of odd seeing him so outwardly different when he is around his friends, knowing there's a whole other side to him. I need to stop staring before any of them notice, even worse if it's Tamao himself. I busy myself with the duties of the checklist that's been taunting me since I sat down, but don't miss the feeling of someone watching me.

I hadn't even noticed how late it had gotten until I come out from the back room and it's getting dark outside. Tamao and his gang had left not too long ago, having said their goodbyes before disappearing down the street, while I continued to pack up for the night.

I let out a sigh of relief, happy to be finally heading home. I double check that I've locked the doors properly before turning to start my walk home, maybe I'll catch a taxi instead, I'm tired tonight. But as I turn to my left, there he is. Tamao Serizawa, standing under a yellowed street lamp with a half finished cigarette hanging from his lips, which he exhales the smoke through his nose. He's facing me, watching me like he usually does. Except this isn't usual, he's never here when I close the store, not that I've noticed at least. But overall, he seems to have been waiting for me. He flicks the cigarette to the pavement and puts it out with his foot, clearing his throat as he takes a few slow steps towards me.

"Serizawa? Is everything okay?" I ask, a slight concern filling my voice. Blame it on the overthinking, but I jump to the conclusion he might need support, whether it be emotionally or physically. Though as he lets out a calm chuckle, I think he might want something else.

"I hope so" He responds shortly, a smirk ghosting his lips as he stops when he's close enough to talk more gently. "Sorry to make you worry, I just thought I could walk you home." He clears his throat, "It can get... lonely"

I sort of blink at him as I purse my lips, trying to hold back a smile at his reasoning. It was clearly an excuse but I let it slide, barely. I notice the way the corner of his lips quirk up and his eyes squint, obviously being aware of how blatant his defense is. Now we're both standing here, staring at each other in the dim light of the side walk, clearly trying not to laugh. He tries to break his expression but ends up falling into a deeper grin.

"Yep" I squeak out, closing my eyes as my voice cracks with a rising laugh. "It can, how thoughtful of y... you" My slight pause comes from the lurch of my body as I try my hardest not to laugh at the expression he's making, he looks like he's trying to hold in a sneeze and I probably don't look much different.

We both let out a small snicker at each other, which devolves into a chuckle and a laugh. It feels like I'm melting into this moment and the implications of why he'd want to walk me home has my heart racing. We try to compose ourselves, a small giggle here and there. He looks down at his shoes before back up, seemingly regained his previous demeanor, despite the curl of a smile on his lips.

"Let's go, it's late as is" He tries to be serious and I let him, let him be who he wants to be. I nod in agreement with him and as I begin to walk, he follows.

It's not long before we're in my neighborhood, I'd always lived close to where I worked, not wanting to have to take the packed trains everyday. We'd walked in near silence the whole way here. It didn't bother me though, if anything it was sort of endearing, not feeling like I have to talk all the time. Serizawa is the first to break the silence as we near my house.

"I don't want to mess this up" His voice is vulnerable, it almost shocks me into freezing but I match his slowing steps and look towards him. I open my mouth to speak, ask if somethings going on but he cuts me off before I can.

"You mean a lot to me, more than I thought you would. You were always beautiful to me and I couldn't stop myself from coming back to you, even when I wasn't sure. But now I am sure, I know how I feel and I don't want you to slip away without ever telling you." His voice is the calm, soft tone it always was when we were alone together and my heart leaps to my throat at the realization of what he's trying to say.

"Serizawa, are y-"

"I like you a lot and if you are willing, I'd love to take you out" He speaks again before I can finish my sentence. He seems so assured in what he's saying. A smile is now growing on my lips as I go to respond, to tell him I'd love to.

"Tama-" And once again, before I can say any more he interrupts, this time sounding slightly more nervous and he holds an unreadable expression. He brings his hand up to run his fingers through his hair.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way but I needed to at least tell you, I wouldn't be able to let you go if I didn't say anything" He concludes sincerely and this time he finally looks towards me. I can't help but grin and the heat that's rushes to my cheeks tells me I'm blushing. He looks unsure, like he thinks I might just start laughing at him.

"You know what I love about you?" I start, a small laugh escaping my lips. "How you let me finish my sentences" It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he mirrors my smile, giving a small chuckle. It's my turn to cut him off as he opens his mouth to say something.

"And, I love when you come around and the way you run your hand through your hair when you're nervous" My grin widens as he looks away slightly, seemingly surprised I'd noticed his anxious habit. I place my hand on his arm softly, "And I'd love to go out with you"

His smile widens and his expression is something I've never seen him have before, it's a mixture of relief and adoration. The way his eyes are trained on mine in the soft glow of the street lamps, it has my heart pounding. I let myself relax, relieved that my feelings weren't one sided.

"Then it's settled, let's date?" He asks, sounding like he's double checking that's what I really meant.

I can't help but grin wider, shaking my head softly in disbelief. Pushing the gate to my house and holding it open with my body, I face out into the street to look at him, I nod reassuring.

"Yeah, let's date, unless you've already changed your mind" I tease him softly and I watch as he rolls his eyes sarcastically. It feels odd how easily we seems to fit in with each other, feeling closer and more confident.

"I could kiss you right now" He says those words like it's the most natural thing to say in this moment and maybe it is, but I still feel my face burn in a deeper blush. He lets out a chuckle and stuffs his hands in his pockets, preparing to leave. But I don't want him to go, not yet at least.

"Then do it" I take a step closer to him, hearing the gate squeak softly as it moves with me.

He looks up towards me now that I'm standing on the small step that leads to the gate, his eyes shine with something I can't quite recognize. He takes a step forwards as well and I lean down slightly so I can reach his face. One of his hands withdraws from his pocket, raising to rest on the curve of my waist and my hand moves to cradle his jaw. Our lips connect in a soft but quick kiss, one that leaves me wanting more. His lips are cold but inviting and I don't want this to end. As I pull back gently, I feel his hand leave my side and mine retracts back to tuck under the warmth of my crew neck.

"Goodnight, Tamao" I whisper, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

I enter the front area of my house and begin to close the gate as he steps out of view behind the solid fence of my property, not before hearing a small 'night' come from him. As I approach my front door, the hum of a tv playing fills my ears. Though as I step up on the front step that leads to the threshold of the building, I turn back to look over the top of the fence, watching the back of Tamao's body get further and further away.

"Yes!" It's soft but I still hear it and watch as Serizawa pumps his fist in the air like he's won a great victory. The sight makes me cover my mouth to hold in a small laugh. I finally look away and I find myself still grinning. I don't want the way my heart lurches for him to stop and something tells me it won't ever, something tells me he'll keep my heart safe.

[six-white-venus]

UHMM uhm. thoughts on strays

Dear God,

I am- you must know my name already, right? After all, I’m your child. My mother tells me you used to be a shepherd. My hair is white like that of a sheep. You must’ve let me go astray. What a bad master you are.

Dear God,

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.

Dear God,

Father (I can call you that, right? I’m your son, after all), won’t you take care of ma? She’s sick, and she screams way too much these days. You will take care of her, right? Ma tells me you are everywhere. I think I saw you yesterday. The doctor looks an awful lot like you when she tells me ma’s gonna be alright. I see you, father. You have a pretty smile.

Dear God,

I kissed a boy today. He tastes like apples.

Dear God,

I haven’t seen the boy I kissed in a week. The doctor won’t look me in the eyes anymore. I can’t see you. Where are you?

Dear God,

Would you come running if I burn the words that praise you? Would you come running, not for your kin or your children, but for yourself?

I must say, fire looks prettier than your smile. I rather like it. The smell of your beloved bible burning stings my nose. How very sweet.

GOD,

IT HURTS. IT HURTS. MOTHER CARVED MY EYE OPEN WITH A CROSS. NOW MY EYE BEARS THE CROSS YOU HUNG ON. HOW AWFUL. IT HURTS. I CAN SEE YOU.

Father,

Mother died today. The doctor cried. I see you. Do you know how I figured that was you, right there?

There was no sorrow in those tears.

God,

What do I call you, now that I have deemed you unworthy of prayer? You are not human. You are not holy. You are cruel and twisted. You, do you exist? No. No, you exist. If you don’t exist, then that means I am my own God. Then that means I am the one who hates me so. You exist. Can you see me? I can’t see you.

I think I know what to call you. Coward sure does have a good ring to it.

Coward,

No one knows I talk to you.

I laugh when someone brings up your name when I’m in the room. I spit on your existence. I don’t pray. But I talk to you. Because it’s soothing to pretend you’re here. You villain. It’s easier to pretend I’m just a stray searching for its way back to Bethlehem. Easier to pretend there is no freedom for a stray. I roam the streets searching for you with my leash in my mouth, whimpering, weeping, howling. It’s terrifying to be alone. So I talk. If I am the cause of my own demons, then what’s adding one more to the roster?

Demon,

I made a priest go mad with anger today. In my defense, he kissed me back. I was the one who let go, too. A perfect gentleman. He told me I would never know of the lord ever again. I wanted to tell him: you silly thing. I have known him my whole life.

He is a stray stuck on the top of a lonely mountain. He is your father, the one that beats you black and blue for your own good. He is the light that blinds you. He is the filth that spills out of your mouth. He’s the hands you pulled me closer with. He is the holiest sin. To be holy is to be sinful. To sin is a thing of beauty. Beauty has always been bloody. I know God. He is the bloodiest one of them all.

Dear God,

I like to talk to you because one day, when I find my way home, I can fall to my knees in front of you. Father, look at these teeth you’ve given me. Father, I will promise to make you holy again. Father, why are you screaming? Father, don’t be scared, it all happens for a reason. Did you know a stray doesn’t cross the path of another in fear that the other will sink its teeth in its fur? Is that way you hid from me for so long, Father?

Father, look at these teeth you’ve given me. My hair was never sheep-white, was it? It has always been the white of Lilith’s fangs. I will see you again, Father. You would be proud to see the man your son has grown to be.

Can you hear me, Father? Soon, I will be the holiest (bloodiest) of them all. Watch out for my teeth, father. Watch out for the one stray you never came back for.